Kiana
"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins," I said, holding one up for examination at the end of our fourth meeting. "On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry and I set the date of the next meeting we'll change the numbers on our shared coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic ours."
A blank silence greeted my words. I looked around at all the faces upturned to me, rather disconcerted.
"Well I thought it was a good idea," I said uncertainly, "I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But well, if you don't want to use them we don't have to. It was just an idea."
"You can do a Protean Charm," said Lucas.
"Yes," I said.
"That's a NEWTs level spell," Jace said.
"Oh," I said. "Oh well yes, I suppose it is."
"How come you're not in Ravenclaw," Luna said. "With brains like yours?"
"Well, the Sorting Hat considered putting me in Ravenclaw well practically any of the Houses during my Sorting," I said brightly, "but it decided to put me Gryffindor in the end. So does that mean we're using the going with my idea?"
There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forward to collect one from the basket. Harry looked sideways at me then Cho. I felt my blood boil. I can tell I wasn't the only one.
"You know what these remind me of," Harry said.
"No, what's that," I asked.
"The Death Eaters' scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join him," Harry said.
"It's where I got inspiration but instead of it being on our body it'd be a sort of camouflage way of letting everyone know," I said.
"I prefer your way," said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his Galleon into his pocket. "I suppose the only danger with these is that we might accidentally spend them."
"Fat chance," said Ron. "I haven't got any real Galleons to confuse it with."
****
As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, our D.A. meetings were put on hold because I insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game.
I realized how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving us homework in the week leading up to the match.
"I think you've got enough to be getting on with at the moment," she said loftily.
Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at me and said grimly, "I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, and I really don't want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won't you?"
"I'll prove myself professor. I'll do my absolute best and bring our team to the upmost standard you've held Oliver at," I said.
"How's the team looking?" She asked.
A small frown faltered onto my face.
"We could do better that's for sure," I admitted. "I think everyone's just so concerned with passing their exams."
"Everything going okay?" She asked.
"Just trying to keep my head in the game with everything that's happening here," I said. "I should get back to work and strategize."
Minnie sends me a wide smile. I exit her office and make my way to the Gryffindor common room.
****
"I've only just found out the final lineup for Slytherin," I said. "Looks like last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left now, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two blokes we know very well Crabbe and Goyle."
"We do," said Harry and Ron together.
"Well, obviously they aren't bright enough to tell one end of a broom from another," I said, "but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way onto the pitch without signposts."
"Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mold," Harry assured me.
"I know," I said. "I also know they'll ply dirty so watch your back."
I could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators stands now. Some people were singing, though I could not make out the words. I was starting to feel nervous, but I knew my butterflies were as nothing to Ron's, who was clutching his stomach and staring straight ahead again, his jaw set and his complexion pale gray.
"It's time," I said in a hushed voice, looking at my watch. "C'mon everyone good luck."
My team rose, shouldered their brooms, and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sky. A roar of sound greeted us in which I could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles. The Slytherin team were standing waiting for us. They too were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as Dudley, with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught my eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.
"Captains shake hands," ordered the umpire, Madam Hooch, as Montague and I reached each other. Anyone could tell that Montague was trying to crush my fingers, though I did not wince. Instead I squeezed back which let him wince.
"Mount your brooms," Madam Hooch said.
Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew. The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upward; out of the corner of my eye I saw Ron streak off toward the goal hoops. I saw Harry zoom higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco was doing exactly the same.
"And it's Black, Black with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me," Lee Jordan said.
"JORDAN," yelled Professor McGonagall.
"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's ouch been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe — Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse passes to Angelina Johnson and Johnson's away — dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger close call, Kiana and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?" Lee said.
I tried so hard to ignore all the noise around me and concentrate on me team and strategies to win the game. But I could not ignore the sound coming from the Slytherin stands. I pass the Quaffle back to Angeline seeing as she was the only open Chaser.
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.
"— and Kiana passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, and as I swerved, my insides boiling at what I had just heard, I knew Lee was trying to drown out the sound of the singing. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! SHE SHOOTS SHE aaaah . . . Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Kiana and Katie."
The singing from below grew louder and louder as I drew nearer and nearer Ron —
Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.
I could not help myself.
"Katie, Angelina! Rally together. I'll be back," I hissed.
They nodded. Abandoning my Quaffle to Angelina, I turned my Firebolt toward Ron, he was at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goal hoops while the massive Warrington pelted toward him.
"— and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead —"
A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring . . .
"— so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team — come on, Ron!"
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherin end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them, straight through Ron's central hoop.
"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck, Ron . . ."
The Slytherins sang even louder:
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN . . .
"— and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch —" cried Lee valiantly, though the singing was now so deafening that he could hardly make himself heard above it.
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING . . .
"Harry, WHAT ARE YOU DOING," I screamed, soaring past him to keep up with Katie. "GET GOING!"
WEASLEY IS OUR KING,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING . . .
I flew towards Ron and flew besides him.
"Ron, you're doing good, just ignore —," I began.
"KAY WATCH OUT!"
I turned around only to be knocked off my broom and landed on the grassy field. Now I was pissed. My teammates were about to fly down to check on me.
"STAY UP THERE AND PLAY I AM FINE," I screamed.
I turned over and stood up.
"Accio Firebolt."
My Firebolt flew into my hand and I mounted it. You woke the dragon up and I know my team knew I was not messing around.
"PINBALL," I yelled.
Angelina, Katie, Fred, George and I began to play our position and I scored one in.
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN . . .
"— and it's Warrington again," bellowed Lee, "who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Black, come on now Angelina, you can take him turns out you can't but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, I mean, George Weasley, oh who cares, one of them anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell er drops it too so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle, and he's off up the pitch, come on now Gryffindor, block him!"
WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING . . .
"— and Pucey's dodged Black again, and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!"
I did not have to look to see what had happened: There was a terrible groan from the Gryffindor end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins. Looking down, I saw the Pansy Parkinson right at the front of the stands, her back to the pitch as she conducted the Slytherin supporters who were roaring:
THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING:
WEASLEY IS OUR KING.
But twenty–nil was nothing, there was still time for us to catch up or catch the Snitch, a few goals and we would be in the lead as usual, I assured myself, bobbing and weaving through the other players in pursuit of something shiny that turned out to be Montague's watch strap. But Ron let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in my desire for Harry to find the Snitch now. If he could just get it soon and finish the game quickly.
"— and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Kiana Black takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now Kiana GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty–twenty, forty–twenty to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle . . ."
I ducked a Bludger that Crabbe had sent rocketing in my direction and resumed my frantic scouring of the pitch for the open places to steal the Quaffle, keeping one eye on the Bludgers in case they showed signs of hitting me.
"— Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good I mean bad Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again . . ."
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN —
I continued to play as Harry and Malfoy raced for the Snitch. I heard a scream and I turned around. Harry had the Snitch on his hands. We were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won — WHAM! A Bludger hit me squarely in the small of the back and I flew forward off my broom; sadly I was about 20 feet above ground but I was winded all the same as I landed flat on my back on the frozen pitch. I heard Madam Hooch's shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Harry's frantic voice.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked.
"'Course I am," I said grimly, taking his hand and allowing him to pull me to my feet.
Madam Hooch was zooming toward one of the Slytherin players above me, though I could not see who it was at this angle.
"It was that thug, Crabbe," said Angelina angrily. "He whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch but we won, Kiana, we won!"
I heard a snort from behind me and turned around, still holding my broom tightly in my hand. Draco sent a sneer in our direction.
"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you," he said to Harry. "I've never seen a worse Keeper but then he was born in a bin. Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"
"Don't entertain him," I said. "Any of you. We won and they lost. That's all that matters."
I turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph, all except Ron, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and was making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.
"I'll go and talk to him," I sighed.
"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called, as Katie and Angelina hugged Harry. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly — we wanted to sing about his mother, see —"
"Talk about bad sports," said Angelina, casting Malfoy a disgusted look.
"— we couldn't fit in useless loser either for his father, you know —"
Fred and George had realized what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through hugging me they stiffened, looking around at Malfoy.
"Don't. He's just a sore loser,"I said at once, taking Fred by the arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost. DRACO SHUT UP."
"but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter," said Malfoy, sneering. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay —"
I grabbed hold of George; meanwhile it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Jake, and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. I looked around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.
"Or perhaps," said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it —"
I was not aware of releasing George, all I knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy.
"HARRY, GEORGE GET BACK HERE!" I yelled.
With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy's stomach.
"Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO," I screamed.
I ran towards the fighting group of boys only to be punched in the cheek, stomach and back. I could hear girls' voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled "IMPEDIMENTA!" and only when I was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did Harry abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach.
"What do you think you're doing," screamed Madam Hooch.
She was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other, her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the two Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background.
"I've never seen behavior like it back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now," Madam Hooch said.
Harry and George marched off the pitch. Hermione and Jake came running down followed by Ginny, Josh, Cedric, Christian, Jace, Ernie and Lucas. I stood up shakily. Angelina, Katie, Ginny and Hermione gasping as they saw me. I tasted my blood on my lip and I sighed.
"Kiana," Malfoy gasped as I turned around. "I'm sorry."
I was so tempted to raise my wand and say those two words that can end him.
"I've had it with you Draco. I'm done being nice to you. I'm done being nice to you all," I said.
I turned around and limped back up to the castle.
****
"Banned," I said in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. "Banned. No Seeker and no Beaters. What on earth are we going to do? This is so embarrassing."
I shook my head and frowned.
"I'm a terrible Captain," I groaned. "This would never happen on Oliver's watch. None of you would have acted this way."
It did not feel as though we had won the match at all. Everywhere I looked there were angry faces; the team itself were slumped around the fire, all apart from Ron, who had not been seen since the end of the match.
"It's just so unfair," said Angelina numbly. "I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?"
"No," said Ginny miserably; she and Hermione were sitting on either side of me. "He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."
"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything," I said furiously, I shoved a stack of books off of the table.
"It's not my fault I didn't," said Fred. "I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you two hadn't been holding me back."
"Are you sure you're okay Kiana," George frowned as he touched my cheek.
I slapped his hand away surprising everyone. Never have I ever hit or was angry with the Weasley Twins.
"I TOLD YOU THREE TO BLOODY NOT DO ANYTHING AND YOU IGNORED ME. YOU FUCKING HIT ME UGH. I NEED SPACE. I AM SICK AND TIRED OF BABYSITTING YOU THREE," I yelled.
We all grew silent. I stormed out of the common room and made my way to my Grandfather's. I knocked on his office door and he opened it. His eyes slightly softened.
"Dear —" he began.
"Can I hide out in here for the night?" I asked.
My grandfather held the door open and I entered.