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cxliv. weasley is our king

There was some sort of pride in Tori's chest over the following two weeks, knowing that Dumbledore's Army was fighting back. The DA was resisting Umbridge under her very nose, doing the very thing she and the Ministry most feared, and whenever he was supposed to be reading Wilbert Slinkhard's book during her lessons she dwelled instead on satisfying memories of their most recent meetings, like how she had finally used her first non-verbal spell.

Hermione soon devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to all the members in case they needed to change it at short notice because it would look suspicious if people from different Houses were seen crossing the Great Hall to talk to each other too often. She gave each of the members of the DA a fake Galleon (Ron became very excited when he first saw the basket and was convinced she was actually giving out gold).

''You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione said, holding one up for examination at the end of their fourth meeting.
The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. "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 sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."

A blank silence greeted Hermione's words. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted.

''Well  —   I thought it was a good idea," She 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 — "

''You can do a Protean Charm?" said Terry Boot.

''Yes," Hermione replied rather harshly.

''But that's... that's NEWT standard, that is," He said weakly.

''Oh," Hermione smiled, trying to look modest. "Oh... well... yes, I suppose it is."

As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, their DA meetings were put on hold because Angelina 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; the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretense of sportsmanship, were determined to see their own side victorious. Tori realized how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them 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 Tori and George 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?"

Snape was no less obviously partisan; he had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Tori turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Chaser, Montague, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.

Fred wasn't so merciful about the pranks he set out for him.

Other than that, Tori felt optimistic about Gryffindors chances; they had, after all, never lost to Slytherin: team. Admittedly, Ron was still not performing to Wood's standard, but he was working extremely hard to improve. His greatest weakness was a tendency to lose confidence after he'd made a blunder; if he let in one goal he became flustered and was therefore likely to miss more. On the other hand, Tori had seen Ron make some truly spectacular saves when he was on form; during one memorable practice, he had hung one-handed from his broom and kicked the Quaffle so hard away from the goal hoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the center hoop at the other end; the rest of the team felt this save compared favorably with one made recently by Barry Ryan, the Irish International Keeper, against Poland's top Chaser, Ladislaw Zamojski.

Even Fred had said that Ron might yet make him and George proud and that they were seriously considering admitting he was related to them, something they assured him they had been trying to deny for four years.

After eating nearly nothing for breakfast Tori went down towards the pitch with the twins. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes.

Angelina had changed already and began talking as soon as they entered. Tori helped Ron get his robe on, then sat down to listen to the pre-match talk while the babble of voices outside grew steadily louder as the crowd came pouring out of the castle towards the pitch.

''Okay, I've only just found out the final line-up for Slytherin,' said Angelina, consulting a piece of parchment. "Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left, 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 called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them  — "

''We do," Harry and Ron said together.

''Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from the other," Angelina sighed, pocketing her parchment, ''But then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way on to the pitch without signposts."

''Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mold," Harry assured her.

"There's there the new keeper, from what I've heard she's good." Angelina paused for a moment. "Dove Silvers."

Tori let out a sigh, mentally preparing herself for the game. They could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators' stands. Some people were singing, though Tori could not make out the words. She was starting to feel nervous.

''It's time," said Angelina in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. "C'mon everyone... good luck."

The team rose, shouldered their brooms, and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight, a roar of sound greeted them in which Tori could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles.

The Slytherin team was standing waiting for them. They were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, stood rather proudly. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. Dove stood behind him, looking rather pale.

''Captains, shake hands," ordered the referee Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Montague reached each other. Tori could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, though she did not wince. "Mount your brooms..."

Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.

The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Tori swept in immediately, racing after Angelina.

''And it's Johnson — Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still wouldn't go out with me — "

''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 Tori Silvers and Silvers's away  — "

Tori flew through the field, her eyes on the hoops. "—  dodges Warrington, Beater Fred Weasley swiftly takes a crack at a bludger away from chaser and his girlfriend Tori Silvers! Took them long enough to get together, ah, I remember my first joke about them —"

"JORDAN!"

"Just a joke Professor! Close call, Tori  — and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

''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 Tori passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, and as Tori swerved, her insides boiling at what she had just heard, she knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. "Come on now, Angelina  —  looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! —  SHE SHOOTS  —  SHE  —  aaaah..."

Dove had saved the goal; she threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Angelina and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron.

''Weasley is our King,

Weasley is our King,

He always lets the Quaffle in

Weasley is our King."

'' —  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 the 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 Slytherins' 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...

WEASLEY IS OUR KING...

WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN..."

" — and it's Warrington again," Lee bellowed, ''who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Silvers, 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 Tori again and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!"

Looking down, Tori saw the pug-faced 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 Gryffindor to catch up or catch the Snitch. A few goals and they would be in the lead, as usual, Tori assured herself, bobbing and weaving through the other players after the quaffle.

But Ron let in two more goals.

" —  and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now, Angelina — what is she doing?!"

Angelina made eye contact with Tori before throwing the quaffle straight up in the air. Tori recognized the idea and sped forward. She held onto her broom tightly, kicking her leg out and flying upside down in a loop.

As planned, Tori's foot kicked the quaffle straight into the hoops. "GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle..."

Tori could hear a lion roaring amidst the Gryffindor cheers and felt heartened; only thirty points in it, that was nothing, they could pull back easily.

" —   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..."

Tori could hear the crowd screaming, but she didn't understand why. She threw the quaffle towards Dove, who missed it.

She heard Madam Hooch's shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells, and jeering, a thud, then Angelina's frantic voice to Harry, who was on the ground.

''Are you all right?"

''Course I am," said Harry grimly, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming towards one of the Slytherin players above him, though he could not see who it was from this angle. Tori landed quickly.

''It was that thug Crabbe," Angelina growled angrily, ''He whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch — but we won, Harry, we won!"

The rest of the team 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 seemed to be making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.

''We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called, as Katie and Tori hugged Harry. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly —   we wanted to sing about his mother, see  — "

''Talk about sour grapes," Angelina scoffed, 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 shaking Harry's hand, they stiffened, looking round at Malfoy.

''Leave it!" said Angelina at once, taking Fred by the arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little   —

"— But you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" said Malfoy, sneering. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you?"

Tori turned almost immediately, her eyes flaming with rage. "You better shut your damn mouth before I hex you into next month."

"Ooh. Feisty." Malfoy chuckled, glancing over at Fred. "Can't see how you stand the stink. I understand Potter at least. I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay —"

Harry grabbed hold of George. Meanwhile, it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Tori, and Katie to stop Fred from leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly.

"Stop it." Angelina hissed.

''Or perhaps," said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, ''You can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter."

"Probably like pigs," Dove spoke up. Tori hadn't even realized she was there. Malfoy continued his taunts. "The Weasley's pigsty must remind you of it — "

''Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!"

Tori had given up trying to restrain Fred and was cursing out Dove, who stared at her with wide eyes.

Malfoy was yelling, George was swearing, Tori was screaming, Fred was trying to break away, Angelina was shouting and there was a loud shout. ''Impedimenta!" and both Harry and George were knocked over backward by the force of the spell.

''What do you think you're doing?" screamed Madam Hooch, as Harry leaped to his feet. It seemed to have been her who had hit them with the Impediment Jinx; 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; Tori was right up in Dove's face. Fred was still being forcibly restrained by Katie and Angelina, 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."

Tori watched George and Harry turn away. She turned her attention back to Dove, her eyes burning with anger. Angelina pulled her away but Tori refused to stop glaring at Dove.

"Don't ever speak to me again!" She shouted at her. "Don't you dare even look at me! You hear me! You no good rotten little—"

"Enough, Miss Silvers." Umbridge had appeared next to the crowd. Tori shut her mouth immediately, watching Umbridge glance around at them all.

"You will both be severing Detention Mr. Crabbe and Miss Silvers sometime this week." And she strolled off.

i don't know why people like draco like i'm sorry but he makes me so mad.

i was literally shaking with rage after writing this chapter oh my god

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