HARRY POTTER • FANTASTIC BEASTS | ONE-SHOTS

This Is War {Fred Weasley}

Once everyone is set, Madam Hooch opens up the trunk and the two Bludgers shoot into the sky, quickly followed by the Golden Snitch. Then, as soon as the Quaffle finally shoots free, the game starts.

It feels like a long match, like an endless cat-and-mouse game as both teams try and catch up to each other. For the longest time, It's a close call between scores, which makes all players —and the public— tense. Lee Jordan's commentary is all over the place throughout the game; one minute, he's excited when Gryffindor is in the lead, and then the next one he's accusing Slytherin of cheating when we take it (which most of the time ends up being true, but I look past it). Despite this, we put up a fairly good fight, and for the first time in so long, it feels like the Quidditch Cup is finally ours.

Unfortunately, we don't put up a good enough fight.

I'm too busy avoiding Bludgers and trying to take the Quaffle away from the opposite team that I nearly jump from my broom when I hear the whistle blowing again. Confused, I halt my flight and look around. I quickly spot Draco in the distance, running a hand through his hair in frustration, and I immediately know what happened.

Harry caught the Snitch. Again.

"Gryffindor wins!" Madam Hooch announces.

A loud wave of cheers erupts from the Gryffindors in the crowd, hugging each other and jumping excitedly at their victory. I groan as the rest of the opposite team lands back on the ground to go and congratulate Harry for the catch. I watch as they smile and pump fists into the air, and I shake my head in disappointment. I really thought we were going to win this time. "Well, I guess we're still the best team, huh?" A voice says and I turn to look at the person.

Fred is the only Gryffindor still mounting a broom, and he doesn't seem to be in any rush to join his teammates. He leans back effortlessly as if he's lying on a couch, with his hands behind his head. I scowl at him. "Shouldn't you be down there celebrating your victory, then, instead of bothering me?"

He shrugs. "I'd much rather be here, watching your defeat from up close."

My nostrils flare and if I had my wand I'd hex him here and there. "Aww, but don't worry," He fake pouts. "There'll be plenty of opportunities to try and win in the next few years. Too bad you won't be here to see it."

He finally flies away with that stupid smug look on his face and it takes everything in me not to throw a Bludger at his head. I try to ignore the fact that his words struck a nerve because he's right. This was my last chance to help win the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin and now It's gone. I missed it.

Shaking the thoughts away, I go to join my sulking teammates, who are all gathering around Draco. "I almost had it. I even touched it with the tip of my fingers," He's saying when I arrive. I have a feeling that that is not at all true. "But then Potter had to come in and ruin everything. I bet that broom of his was charmed with super speed or something."

No one says anything about it. I know they're upset about losing but they would never dare blame Draco for it. "We were so close, though," says Cassius Warrington in a frustrated tone.

"Yeah, and now we've got to think of another way to get back at them," Adrian adds.

As I watch the other team still celebrating, a light bulb turns on above my head. "Don't worry, guys," I reassure them. My wicked smile brings them a sort of comfort. "I think I have a plan to get them back."

***

"Okay, but why do I have to get dragged into this?" Daphne Greengrass, my puzzled best friend, asks as we step out of our dorm and into the dark hallway. "I don't have any beef with Gryffindor, that's your thing."