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Foul Play by doratonks14
Chapter 1 : Scavenger Hunts and Quidditch Bumps
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 14

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I rolled over in bed, searching for the warmth of the body that I had been snuggled against all night. All I felt was cold mattress. I sat up, swiping at my eyes blearily and pulling the covers up over my naked chest. Oliver was nowhere to be found. 

I wanted to call out for him but no one knew I was here, and I really didn’t want to give it away. I mean, it was embarrassing enough that I was left here alone – it would be ten times more embarrassing to call out and have one of Oliver’s roommates find me here, in his bed, naked and alone. 

I looked around at the surroundings, taken in the drawn crimson curtains, the crumpled sheets, and the pile of clothes at the bottom of the bed. Oliver’s, quite conspicuously, were still there. I reached down to the foot of the bed and pulled my clothes out of the pile, carefully and quietly redressing myself. I buttoned up the last button on my blouse and zipped up my jeans and ran my fingers through my mussed hair. 

This was bad. This was very, very bad. I was stuck in Oliver’s bed until he came back. Because we hadn’t told anyone that we’d been dating. See, he’s the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and I’m the star Chaser on the Hufflepuff team. It would just be contradictory if we dated. 

So we snuck around, waiting for each other after Quidditch practice or meeting in the halls after class. I was a Prefect as well as being on the Quidditch team, so we sometimes snuck out after curfew to see each other. It had all been nice, until last night. It’s not that I didn’t want to fool around – I had. But Oliver insisted that we go up to Gryffindor tower, seeing as I would blend in more there and there was not the problem of boys not being allowed in the girl’s dorms. 

So I’d conceded, but now he was nowhere to be found, the slimy little git. I sighed quietly and resettled myself on his bed. I couldn’t wait all day. Soon I would get hungry, or have to use the bathroom, I reminded myself. I felt butterflies erupt in my stomach and my hand was shaking as I reached out and pulled the curtain aside a little bit. I glanced quickly around the dorm, my eyes glazing over mountains of clothing and piles of rubbish. No one was around. 

I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out from his bed. I scurried quickly over to the bathroom and quickly fixed my mop of blonde hair in the mirror. I was about to turn and leave when a piece of purple paper, stuck to the mirror caught my eye. I instantly recognized it as a Post-It note. It was probably mine too, taken from my school bag. I was the only student in this school who used Post-It notes. I have and obsession with them. They’re just so convenient. You just pull one off and stick it where you need to – they’re perfect for reminders to myself, or taking notes in one of my books. 

I grabbed the note from the mirror, my conscience screaming at me that I shouldn’t be reading notes that probably weren’t for me, but my curiosity was piqued, and I couldn’t help myself. 

I recognized Oliver’s messy scrawl on the Post-It and I couldn’t help but read it now. 

Good morning, Julia. I’m sorry I can’t be here when you wake up, but you know, it’s game day and I need a good start. Don’t worry about being caught coming out. We Gryffindors are pretty oblivious. 

I do have a little surprise for you today. We’re going to play a game, if you’re up to it. I know you should be getting ready for the Quidditch match, but it shouldn’t take you long, if you play it right. Here’s the game. I’ve left you clues on other post it notes around the school. Each note will contain a clue to the next note – and finally your surprise at the end. 

Sound fun? If you’re willing to play, here’s your first clue: 

The foulest tasting substance on the planet, which Poppy likes to torture us with. 

Good luck. I hope to see you at the end. 

I grinned and read over the note again. A challenge. I’d never been one to shirk away from competition. But like Oliver said, today was the big day. The match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Could I risk taking the time out of preparing to play Oliver’s stupid little game? What would Cedric say if he heard that I was giving up our ritual day of rest before the game in lieu of playing a scavenger hunt set about by the enemy? 

Surely he would skin me alive. But did he have to find out? My annoying conscience screamed again that loyalty to my team should come before playing a game set about by my not official boyfriend, but another part of me, probably the id, told it to shut it’s fat gob. It did shut it’s gob and I looked back down at the Post-It, rereading the small, scrawled clue. 

The foulest tasting substance. What tasted foul? Pumpkin pie really tasted foul. But Poppy. Who was Poppy? And why did he/she like to torture us with whatever the foul substance was? 

I ran through a list of people in my head. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Professor McGonagall, seeing as she had never fed us anything, let alone something foul tasting, and I’d heard Professor Sprout calling her Minerva the other day. So she wasn’t a possibility. Was Professor Sprout’s first name Poppy? It might make sense. But what had she ever tortured us with? Professor Sprout wouldn’t have tortured us with anything anyway – she was the most good-natured teacher of the bunch. Maybe it was Professor Snape. The evil man was always torturing us with some sort of new potion. Some of those tasted really bad. But the idea of anyone calling him Poppy, or any sort of nickname for that matter, made me sick to my stomach and I decided that it wasn’t anything that had to do with Professor Snape. 

He had said that Poppy liked to torture ‘us’ with it. Did that mean that we both had been tortured with the horrible substance? Or that just us students in general were subjected to it? If it was the first case, then it had probably occurred because of Quidditch.  

Suddenly the answer just fell into my lap. It really was so obvious that I felt stupid that I had not realized it before. 

Skele-Grow. The horrible potion administered by Madame Pomfrey, who’s first name was Poppy, to us students who had the misfortune of severely breaking our limbs, or heads, or other body parts. 

I folded the tiny note in half and tucked it into my jeans pocket. I gave myself a once over in the mirror and then decided that it would have to do. I slipped out of the bathroom and then cautiously opened the door to the dorm, checking to make sure that no one was coming. When I figured that the coast was clear I crept down the stairs, waiting for the moment that someone would come up the stairs and find me. Luckily I made it down the stairs okay. I peeked out into the common room. There were only a few people mulling about on this warmer autumn morning – what looked like a few first years and probably a group of two or three fourth year girls. I was lucky. No one would recognize me, hopefully. 

I pulled my long curtain of hair around my face and slipped down into the common room. I felt as if everyone watched me as I crept towards the portrait hole, but I couldn’t be sure as I couldn’t see them very well. I finally made it out of there and let my hair fall back into its natural middle part. I found my feet steering me towards the Hospital Wing as my brain just sort of went blank, the relief of getting out of there unscathed still to fresh to concentrate on the task at hand. 

Before I knew what was happening I was standing at the large wooden doors to the infirmary. I paused with my hand on the door, quickly formulating a cover story in case the nurse saw me come in. I could just tell her I need a bandage. She wouldn’t object much, would she? 

I pushed open the door without answering my own question and felt my stomach drop. There wasn’t anyone in here to provide a distraction for me and the door had let out a rather loud squeak. The matron would be coming any moment. I heard the door to her office open and I dove behind the nearest bed curtain. My breathing came in stressed little bursts and I put my hand over my heart in an attempt to calm myself. 

I heard the squeak of the matron’s shoes against the floor and her curious call of “Hello?” I didn’t respond and soon she returned to her office. I darted out from behind the curtain, searching for the potion chest that would contain the Skele-grow. I found it on the wall at the back of the Wing. Cursing my luck, because I would have to pass her office, I got down on my hands and knees and very cautiously and quietly crawled over to the medicine chest. With one last cautious glance over at the door to Madame Pomfrey’s office I pulled myself up to my normal height, which really wasn’t too much more than when I had been crawling, and pulled open the door to the chest. 

It opened easily and I scanned the rows of potions for the Skele-Grow. I found it at the back and I pulled it out. I didn’t see a Post-It anywhere. I spun it around in my hands and examined the back, but it still wasn’t there. I tipped it over carefully, so that I didn’t accidentally spill any of it, and there, sitting on the bottom was a bright green Post-It.  I yanked it off the bottom and put the foul potion back into the chest and closed it, then darted across the ward, not bothering to crawl this time and yanked open the doors. I didn’t bother to wait and listen to see if Madame Pomfrey was coming – I just ran with all of the energy in my body away from there.

 I stopped two floors down and leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I remembered the tiny slip of green paper that I had done so much to get. I uncrumpled it from my fist and read: 

Jules! If you’re reading this, you’ve obviously decided to join in on this little scavenger hunt and you’re doing well. The clues are only going to get harder as we go along, so I hope you don’t just give up. 
Here’s your second clue: Trolls in tutus. 

Trolls in tutus. Bloody hell, that was harder than the last one. What the hell did trolls in tutus have to do with anything? I was pretty sure we didn’t have any trolls in the school and tutus, well, there probably wouldn’t be any of those either. What the hell did he mean? 

“Trolls in tutus…. trolls in tutus,” I said aloud, massaging my temples in an attempt to make myself remember something that might lead me to the next clue. “Trolls in tutus…” 

“You don’t mean Ulrich the Odd, do you?” someone asked, and I spun around, looking for whoever had spoken to me. There was no one around. “Over here!” the voice called again. I turned back to where I had first been looking and saw the man in the portrait across from me staring at me intently. 

“Who is Ulrich the Odd?” I asked, hoping I didn’t seem crazy for talking to a painting. 

“Ulrich the Odd was an insane wizard from a few centuries ago that had all of the oddest ideas. He listened to Augrey’s cries and in one instance, which leads to his death, tried to teach the trolls ballet. There’s a tapestry of the incident up on the seventh floor.” 

“Of course!” I cried, remembering to have passed that tapestry on several occasions and having thought it was rather hilarious. “I know what you’re talking about. Thank you so much for all your help!”

“Oh, no need to thank me dear,” the old portrait said, his cheeks getting rather flushed for a painting. “Just do your best in the Quidditch match today.” 

“Of course,” I told him. Damn. I’d completely forgot about the match today, which definitely wasn’t a good thing. I really should have been keeping an eye on the time. I looked down at my watch and saw that it was only nine thirty. I had an hour and a half before I had to be down at the pitch. 

I raced down the hallway and up the nearest staircase, getting severely thrown off balance when the staircase started moving. I righted myself in time and stepped carefully off when it came to a stop.  I decided that running around was just wasting energy that I would need for the match and I walked the rest of the way to the seventh floor.  

The hallway was deserted and I hummed quietly to myself. I rounded the corner that I knew the tapestry was on and even from here I could see the little yellow Post-It tacked to the wall next to the image of the dancing trolls. I hurried over there and pulled down the note. 

 If you’re reading this, I guess you’ve decided to carry on. I have to say, very well done love. You’re really doing well. There’s not much time to beat around the bush. 

So here’s your third clue: I’m the natural enemy of order and know how to make even the mildest tempered students peeved. 

I grinned to myself. Even though Oliver was convinced that his clues were getting harder, I was pretty sure that I knew the answer to this one. It was Peeves, Hogwarts resident poltergeist. He’d practically given me the answer in the clue. 

I set off down the hallway, keeping my eyes and ears open for any sort of disturbance that would lead me to the poltergeist. I didn’t know what I would do once I found him. Should I just ask him if he had my next clue? Or should I just see if it was taped to his back or something along those lines? 

No matter what happened I probably wouldn’t escape with all my limbs in tact. Maybe that was Oliver’s idea – impair me so much that I wouldn’t be able to play in that match today. He wouldn’t do that, would he? 

I decided that he wouldn’t – he was my boyfriend after all – and that this scavenger hunt was just a fun little game he was having me play.  I loved him regardless. 

I walked down a few flights of stairs, not really paying attention to where I was going, still to intent on finding Peeves. 

It was then that I heard a scream and saw a few first years running away from the Transfiguration classroom. Either they were being tortured by seventh year Slytherins, or Peeves was coming after them. Three of them came hurtling around the corner in my direction and I plastered myself against the wall, not wanting to be trampled.  

When they had gone I pushed away from the wall and edged carefully around the corner, keeping my hands in front of my face in case the poltergeist decided to spit ink or throw a water balloon at me. I heard his malevolent little giggle and spread my fingers wider so that I could look through the cracks. Peeves floated a few feet in front of me, holding a little pink Post-It on the end of one of his stubby fingers. 

“Are you looking for this?” he cackled, moving his finger so that the Post-It swung tantalizingly in front of me. 

“Umm, yes,” I squeaked. I don’t really know why, but Peeves had always intimidated me. Maybe it was the fact that he teased children mercilessly. Or maybe it was the way he had set my robes on fire when I was in first year. 

“Your name’s Julia?” he asked, arching one of his fat little black caterpillar brows challengingly. 

“Yes, Julia Edwards,” I confirmed. “Oliver Wood, he said that you had that for me.” 

“That he did,” the poltergeist said, giggling. “I do have it for you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to you.” 

“What would it take?” I asked sweetly. 

“Oh ho, you’re a feisty little thing,” he said, turning himself upside down and looking at me that way. “And I have a feeling that you have somewhere you’re supposed to be soon, am I right?” 

“Yes, I have a Quidditch match that I have to get to in a little over an hour. So I really need that note,” I told him. 

“Why are you even playing Wood’s little game anyway?” the poltergeist asked, flipping right side up and staring at me curiously. “Isn’t he on the Gryffindor side? Had it ever occurred to you that he might just be trying to trick you? Lead you away from the match so that he as an easier time of winning?” 

“I trust Oliver,” I said, my voice shaking a little bit though. It really had never occurred to me that Oliver might try to do that. I knew that he was very competitive and that Quidditch was his life, but would he really try to sabotage us so that Gryffindor had a better chance of winning? That didn’t sound like him. At least, I hoped it didn’t. 

“And you don’t trust me?’ Peeves cackled.

“No, not really,” I growled, feeling anxious now. “Please just give it to me. I really need to get going.” 

“I’ll give you this note, if you do me a little favor first,” Peeves said leadingly. 

“What do you want?” 

“I want you to take this water balloon,” he said, producing a red filled water balloon from seemingly nowhere, “and drop it on the first person you see’s head.”  

“I can’t do that,” I said, horrified at the idea. I could play Quidditch and rough it up on the pitch, but I could never intentionally hurt someone like that. I knew too much what it was like. 

“Do you want this note?” I nodded. “Then you will do it.” 

I scowled at the meddling, malicious thing and grabbed the balloon from him. I turned on my heel and stormed down the corridor to the stairs and stepped out onto the moving staircase. Peeves floated along behind me, blowing raspberries obnoxiously and cackling when I winced. 

I looked down over the railing as we moved over other staircases and gulped when my eyes landed on the figure below me. Filch, standing there holding his monstrosity named Mrs. Norris. 

“Do it,” Peeves urged, looking over the railing at Filch. 

I took a deep breath and let it fly, instantly clamping my hands over my eyes so that I didn’t have to watch. I heard Filch’s startled and angry roar, Mrs. Norris’s hiss, and Peeves’ delighted cackle. 

“Nice one, Julia Edwards!” the poltergeist said loudly, sticking the Post-It to my forehead and then zipping off up the corridor. I glared after him. It was obvious that he was just trying to get me in trouble. Then I remembered the Post-It and pulled it off my forehead. I barely had time to look at it to see that it was the real thing before Filch was upon me, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards his office. 

“Oh, you will get it now,” he wheezed. “It’ll be the thumbscrews for you, girl.” 

I stumbled along after him, feeling seriously herded, as Mrs. Norris followed after us right on my heels, biting me every time I tripped. We burst through the door to Filch’s office and I was shoved down in a hard metal chair.  

“You stay here,” Filch ordered, “I’m going to go get my thumbscrews from the dungeons.” 

He limped out of the office and slammed the door after him and I was left alone with that vile creature that he affectionately called a cat, Mrs. Norris. 

“Stop staring at me,” I commanded it, shivering slightly when she turned away and walked over to her cat bed. 

I took advantage of the moment I was left alone and read over Oliver’s newest clue. 

So that one was fairly easy, wasn’t it? Maybe getting the note wasn’t. I’m sorry if Peeves caused you too much trouble. But we’re almost done. One more clue and then the final one to lead you to your surprise. Are you excited? 

Your new clue: The den of the fur ball. 

The den of the fur ball… what the hell did that mean? He could have been talking about the trunk of the three Quidditch balls. But none of those balls were fuzzy. And he had used the word den, as in an animal. I wasn’t aware of any fuzzy animals that lived in the castle. Unless he meant… 

I glanced over at the cat that was laying on her pile of rags next to me. She was studying me intently, as if she knew what I was thinking. Oliver couldn’t possibly mean Mrs. Norris’s bed, could he? How would he have gotten a note in there? Mrs. Norris hated all students without exception. She would bite off anyone who put his or her hand anywhere near her. He couldn’t have, could he?  

I glared over at the cat and she meowed menacingly, adjusting herself so that I could just see the edge of a blue Post-It underneath her. 

“Oh, how I hate him,” I mumbled, creeping down off my chair and glaring over at the cat, trying to psych her out. She glared right back and I felt myself entering one of those stupid staring contests that I could never win because I always giggled. 

I edged forward a little bit and she poised herself in the pouncing position, obviously ready to deter me from getting what I wanted. To be honest, I was afraid of that cat. She looked like she wanted to eat my heart for dinner. 

I took a deep breath and then darted my hand out. My fingers were only centimeters away from the Post-It when I felt a hot, sharp pain run down my hand and I cried out in agony. I looked down at my hand, which was now covered in my bright red blood, which ran from three deep scratches. I bit my lip to keep from crying and looked over at the beast, who was licking her paws of my blood. She looked up when she felt my eyes on her and I swear, she smiled. 

“Smile at this, bitch,” I growled, grabbing my wand from my jean pocket. “Petrificus totalis!” 

The cat froze like stone and toppled over onto her side, her paw still in her mouth. I reached over with my not bleeding hand and pulled the blue slip of paper from the rags. 

So you’ve found the final clue. Very good job, love, very good job. I hope Mrs. Norris didn’t hurt you too badly. Your final clue will lead you to your surprise. Good luck finding it. I’ll see you soon.


Your final clue: Edwards.

Edwards? That was my last name. What was that supposed to mean - that the last clue was somewhere on me? I would remember that, wouldn’t I? I pulled the shoulder of my shirt up and attempted to look at my back. I didn’t see any conspicuous blobs of color there. 

Was there another Edwards in our school? I didn’t think so. Did it have something to do with Quidditch? 

Oh dear Merlin, Quidditch! I looked down at my watch and saw that it was only twenty minutes until the game started. I didn’t have time to wait for Filch to get back, or to try to figure out Oliver’s clue. That could wait. My team was probably going into full panic mode now. I was never late to practices or games. That, and Jill would have probably noticed that I hadn’t spent last night in our dorm. Hopefully she hadn’t told anyone. 

I crumpled the Post-It in my fist and stood up from the floor quickly, not bothering to unfreeze Mrs. Norris. It would be kind of funny to see the Squib come back and have his precious kitty be frozen. 

I sprinted out of his office and down the nearest staircases, nearly running over a few second years in my haste to make it out to the pitch. I finally made it outside and my lungs burned from the sudden cold air that I inhaled. I kept going though, fighting through the pain until I made it to the Quidditch pitch. I hurtled around to the Hufflepuff changing rooms and banged through the door. 

The room went instantly quiet and I realized I had just walked in during Cedric’s routine pre-game pep talk. 

“Nice for you to join us, Julie,” he said, his eyes angry but his tone conversational. 

“I’m sorry,” I said breathlessly, now feeling somewhat stupid for deserting my team. “I overslept.” 

I heard Jill tut at my lie, but no one else seemed to hear her. 

“Go get changed,” Cedric commanded. “The match starts soon.” 

I hurried through the adjoining door to the girl’s changing rooms and I heard Jill slip in behind me. I didn’t pay her any attention as I unlocked my locker and pulled off my shirt, letting it drop to the floor in my haste to get ready. 

“Where were you really?” Jill asked, sitting down on the long bench that ran though the length of the room. 

“I told you, I overslept,” I reminded her, undoing my jeans now. 

“Not in your bed,” she said, her voice holding a sickly sweet quality that made me want to gag. 

“No, not in my bed,” I agreed. I was reaching into my locker for my robes when I saw it, stuck to the top shelf. The final Post-It. I reached up and plucked the yellow slip from the shelf, abandoning my furious efforts at getting dressed to read it. 

So you’ve figured it out. I guess you want to know what your surprise is. Well here it is: I’m dumping you Julie. You’re a sweet girl, but I’m captain of the Gryffindor team, and you’re the star Hufflepuff chaser. It just wouldn’t have worked out. I’m sorry. Good luck today. I’ll be watching you. Remember, all is fair in love and Quidditch.



I stared down at the Post-It in shock, a million emotions running through my brain at once. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to puke, cry, or scream.  I couldn’t even comprehend what was going on right now.

“Julie! Julie! Hello? Get ready! We’ve only got a few minutes!” 

I snapped back into reality to see Jill standing next to me, looking concerned. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head in an attempt to clear my mind. It wasn’t working. 

He was dumping me? This whole thing was an elaborate plan to get me distracted from the game. Was it possible that Peeves had really been right? And then last night…. 

I felt an angry tear slide down my cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” Jill asked, holding out my Quidditch robes and gesturing for me to put them on. I grabbed them from her and yanked them over my head. 

“Nothing,” I said quietly as I strapped my wrist guards and shin guards before pulling my long blonde hair back into a high ponytail. 

“What’s that in your hand then?” she asked, grabbing for the Post-It. I tried to close my hand around it in time so that she couldn’t get it, but she was much too fast and grabbed it from me. I didn’t protest as she read it, her eyes growing wider and wider. 

“Him?” she asked when she was finished. “He’s who you’ve been sneaking around with? And now…” her voice trailed off with unspoken horror and anger and I nodded in confirmation. 

“We have to crush him today, if for nothing else than so that you can get the revenge you so rightly deserve,” she said confidently. 

“You’re right,” I said, all the anger I was feeling making my adrenaline pump. She was right too. I would show Oliver Wood just what happened to men who tried to play around with me. 

I grabbed my broomstick from my locker and shoved the Post-It back inside. We went back into the main room, where Cedric was just finishing up his speech. 

“Ready ladies?” he asked and Jill and I nodded. The entire team gathered around together in a circle, putting both hands in the middle. There was a moment of silence and then Cedric started up a snarl, which was mimicked by Brandon, and then Sean, and then David, and then me, and then Jill, until the whole circle was snarling and stomping. We heard the cheers from outside and then Lee Jordan’s voice over the megaphone and we screamed and screamed, until the doors flew open and our circle yelled “HUFFLEPUFF!” at the tops of our voices and then we broke and strode out confidently onto the field. 

I saw the crimson clad figures of the Gryffindors across the field and a powerful hatred burned in my stomach. I could easily pick out Oliver by the way he stood, calm and relaxed, leaning against his broomstick for support. Madame Hooch waited in the middle of the field for us and we sauntered over there, Cedric leading the way. 

When Ced got to the middle he stood in front of Oliver and Madame Hooch ordered them to shake hands. I watched the exchange, my hatred growing more and more for the tall Gryffindor. He was about three inches taller than Cedric and broader shouldered. He had kind brown eyes and messy brown hair that was being whipped around his lightly freckled face by the wind. How could the son of Satan have been so handsome? 

The handshake stopped and both captains turned back to their teams. I swung one leg over my broomstick and waiting for Madame Hooch to blow the whistle. This was my favorite part of the whole match. The pre-game electricity always made my heart beat erratically and reminded me that this is what life was all about. 

The whistle blew and I shot into the air, searching for the dull crimson of the Quaffle. I saw Angelina Johnson shooting towards our goal post and sped after her, the wind buffeting my face and making my eyes water. I pushed through it anyway and came up along side her, ducking my shoulder and speeding up so that my shoulder connected instantly with the Quaffle. It was knocked out of her grasp and I grabbed it out of midair, speeding around and shooting off towards the Gryffindor goal posts to the applause of the yellow clad side of the stands. I ducked a Bludger and just barely missed dropping the Quaffle when Alicia Spinnet tried to strip it from me, but before I knew it I was in front of the goals with nothing to stop me but the git himself. 

“Did you get my note, Julia?” he cried out, circling the goals. “I’m sorry it had to be this way. You and I just wouldn’t work. You know that right?” 

I didn’t reply but threw the Quaffle with all my strength towards the rightmost goal, snorting angrily when he just barely saved it. I saw him grin and I felt my stomach churn with disgust. What had I ever seen in that boy? I sped round and tried to shake it off, get back in the game. The Quaffle soared over my head and I saw Katie Bell grab it, speeding off towards our goal. I was too far behind to stop her now, so I paused for a moment. I felt Oliver’s eyes on me and I turned round. He winked at me and I spit in disgust. 

There was a ping as Angelina Johnson scored and Lee Jordan shouted something that I couldn’t make out over the roar of the crowd. The Quaffle was suddenly coming my way again, carried by Jill. She threw it to me as she swerved away from a Bludger and I caught it, spinning round to score. I had to get it this time. I through it again through the right goal and was disappointed when Oliver caught it at the last second again.  

“Come on Edwards!” Oliver cried tauntingly. “You can do better than that!” 

“You know what, I can do better than that,” I muttered to myself, flying over to our beater, Sean. He looked over at me confused and I didn’t bother to answer his unasked question before taking the giant club out of his hands. It was enormously heavy, but I managed to hold on to it, turning around to face Oliver again. I flew slowly towards him. 


“What are you doing?” Sean cried, flying after me. 

“Revenge!” I shouted, speeding up. I saw Oliver’s eyes go wide as I stopped about a foot from him, holding the bat out. 

“Julie, what are you doing?” he asked, obviously frightened. 

“All is fair in love and Quidditch,” I quoted mockingly, before hitting him over the head with the club. 

I watched him sway on his broom, holding his head, and then he fell off tumbling about twenty feet before landing on the ground. I smirked triumphantly and handed the club back to Sean. I heard the whistle being blown and then Madame Hooch was shouting something about a foul. 

I saw Jill fly over to me, and then she clapped me hard on the shoulder in support. I grinned back at her and we both watched from the sky as Oliver was gently roused by his teammates. He sat up and looked up at me, rubbing his head, which I could see now had a large lump on it. I could feel the intense glare coming from all of the Gryffindors, but I did not care. 

I smiled back at Oliver and waved at him triumphantly. Ah, revenge was sweet.  


A/N: Hi guys! Thanks for reading my newest one-shot. I've been really sick this past week, and I've been writing it during then, so I hope it made sense, and that you enjoyed it. I know I liked writing it. 

Please tell me what you thought in a review! Thanks for reading! :)

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