An American at Hogwarts

Chapter Eighteen

"About that..." started Dale.

"We decided to wait for you!" blurted Alana. "We're going the week after Christmas, when you're back!"

"Aw, you guys, really? Jackson?"

"Hey, don't look at me like that," he said, holding his hands up. "We made peace, remember? We'll wait."

"Thank you guys. Seriously, that means a lot," I said, feeling a newfound love for these people. What was I thinking when I decided not to keep in touch with them? Thank goodness they'd refused to let me make that choice.

"Yeah, yeah, we're all very sweet and thoughtful. Whatever," said Jackson, waving the conversation off with one hand. "How's that crazy boarding school of yours?"

I smiled and we spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. I tried to tell them as much about Hogwarts as I could without breaking any wizard laws, which wasn't much. I mean, how the hell do you explain how crazy Quidditch really is without mentioning the flying broomsticks? Either way, it was nice to do some post-competition team bonding.

About half an hour into the conversation, Angelina and Alicia came and sat with me instead of continuing to guard against magical interruptions. We had a great time together, although I had to cover once or twice when a muggle reference went completely over their heads.

We talked right up until it was time to head to dinner, all of us agreeing to try to find another time to talk before December.

The next couple weeks went pretty well. Quidditch really hadn't been much of a commitment yet, since the season hadn't officially started. I had plenty of time to do my homework and everything else, and the first month of school was behind me before I even knew it.

Unfortunately for me, my relatively calm schedule was about to change.

About a week into October, Oliver called a Quidditch strategy meeting, mandatory for all of us to attend. Just by passing him in the hallway I could feel the nervous, agitated energy coming off of him. I could only imagine how much worse it would get between breakfast and when we met later tonight.

****************

"Alright team. Listen up."

The sun was just setting as the eight of us representing the Gryffindor Quidditch team gathered in the locker rooms. We all sat together, huddled on the benches as Oliver stood in front of us. I could tell he had to work not to pace, and the stress in his posture and face made me want to give him a hug.

I got the feeling that would make things worse rather than better, though, so I stopped myself.

"This is our last chance—my last chance—to win the Quidditch Cup," he began. Apparently he couldn't hold back the urge to pace anymore; he started walking back and forth in front of us.

"I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it," he continued, not really looking at any of us. I could tell this was a conversation he'd had with himself many times. "Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world—injuries—then the tournament getting called off last year..."

He paused and grimaced like he was in actual, physical pain.

"But we also know we've got the best—ruddy—team—in—the—school!" Now Oliver stopped his pacing and looked at us. "We've got three suburb Chasers.

"Two unbeatable Beaters."

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George, fanning their faces and pretending to blush. Oliver ignored them and moved on to me.

"One alternate who has some of the most ridiculous natural ability I've ever seen.

"And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!" I'd never been much of a school sports person, but suddenly my chest was swelling with pride. Oliver's words made me believe we could do anything, and more than that they made me want to go out there and try. I wanted to rally around my team, play my heart out, and destroy anyone who got in our way!

"And me," he added at last, in a much quieter voice. I hardly thought that was fair. He was an incredible Keeper, and as far as I'd seen the heart and soul of the team.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," George spoke up.

"Spanking good Keeper," Fred agreed.

"The point is," Oliver continued, once again ignoring the twins. His pacing resumed, but now it seemed more determined than frantic, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing..."

Wood's fire had suddenly lost its heat, and now he seemed back in the rut of disappointment and deflation. None of us could let him stay there, not after he picked us up and got us motivated.

"Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" cried Angelina.

"Definitely," Harry agreed.

"We'll destroy anyone who gets in our way!" I added, yelling the words with the same conviction Oliver had used earlier. The rest of the team roared their approval, and Oliver started to grin.

"Alright then, team," he said. "Let's win this season!"

We all yelled some more, and then headed out onto the pitch. There wasn't much we could do in the growing dark, but we did our best. Training sessions became three nights a week, even when it was freezing cold and raining buckets, but surprisingly I didn't have the slightest desire to skip practice. I loved my teammates, and I saw how much this meant to them. I wanted to do everything I could to help them win.