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Crime and Punishment by platform 9 3_4
Chapter 5 : In The Art Of Payback
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 19

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Disclaimer: As always, it all belongs to JKR, who I am extremely jealous of by the way. Chapter Title inspired by a review from last chapter from the reviewer Lone Wolf :)

You hit me once 
I hit you back 
You gave a kick 
I gave a slap 

- Kiss With A Fist      - Florence And The Machine


Zach Wood


Another amazing chapter image by Deianiera@tda

Chapter 5: In The Art Of Payback


“It’s all gone!” cried Dan, “They’ve taken it!”

“Taken what?” asked Max, immediately on the alert.

Dan seemed in a state of shock, clutching at her wet hair in panic, staring about her in bewilderment.

I gazed towards her wardrobe, which was usually filled with piles of clothes and jewellery (that she was always trying to get me to wear, which I in turn refused to do). It was completely empty.

I stared at it in shock and then looked over at Alex’s, which was always filled with neat piles of white blouses and skirts that were all arranged perfectly, was also empty. I looked dreadingly at Max’s wardrobe and then to mine. Both were completely bare.

I jumped up from my bed.
“That little…” I muttered, looking under the beds in case it had all magically disappeared under there. It was in vain.

By now Max was also panicking. A lot.

She paced up and down the dormitory, her hands flapping wildly about in disarray.

“FUCKING HELL!” She screamed loudly, making us all jump in fright, “THOSE IDIOTIC, MARAUDERING TOE RAGS!”

The exact same thoughts were passing through my head.

“What are we going to do?” asked Dan, “I need my clothes! They’re expensive clothes!”

“Like that’s what matters!” cried Max, looking about ready to start pulling out her hair in panic, “By now they’ve probably thrown it all off the astronomy tower, or put it on a washing line display around their bloody quidditch pitch!”

Damn Potter, that childish, infuriating little git.

Oh, he’s going to pay dearly for this.

Very dearly.

Over the two years I had been at Hogwarts I had succeeded in breaking Potters various bones many times, in ways that grew more and more imaginative.

And trust me, he deserved every single one of those times.

Now he’ll be lucky if I don’t break his skull in half.

And we’ve got our first quidditch match of the season tomorrow, against Hufflepuff, so I can kick his ass then too, even if we are on the same team.

I took a brief moment to fantasize about throwing a couple of bludgers accidentally on purpose in Potter’s direction while he was in mid-air.

“Did they take our underwear too?” asked Dan, flinging her drawers open frantically.

Apparently they hadn’t, because she fell back onto her bed, exhaling loudly in relief.

“Why wouldn’t they take our underwear?” asked Max, looking confused for a moment.

“I put a protective shield charm around our drawers last year,” I admitted to them, “I thought he might come in here and try to steal it.”

“Well, it’s a good job you put it on the rest of the wardrobe because otherwise we’d have no clothes, oh, wait a minute! YOU DIDN’T!” Dan screeched.

“OI!” I yelled back at her, “Just be grateful that I put it on your underwear, otherwise they’d probably be starting an auction for it right now!”

Max cleared her throat.

“And here we have a purple bra belonging to Daniela Abbott,” she said in a deep booming voice, “We’ll be starting the bid at six sickles.”

“It’s not funny!” cried Dan. But she was laughing a little.

“Alright,” I said, “We need to do something about this. And fast.”

“What can we do?” asked Max, “Go down to the laundry room? In our pyjamas? That’ll be the humiliation of the century.”

“No,” I said, a small smile at the corners of my mouth, “I have a better idea.”

“We are not telling McGonagall!” shrieked Dan.

“Give me some credit,” I sighed in exasperation.

“What’s going on?” came a voice from the bathroom. Alex was standing there, a towel wrapped around her, a concerned expression on her face. 

“The boys have taken all our clothes,” said Max, looking sombre.

“WHAT?” cried Alex, staring around her in shock, her eyes flicking from empty wardrobe to empty wardrobe. A look of fury passed her usually calm expression.

“Those little…” she muttered darkly.

“My thoughts exactly,” I said, “But we need to get them back.”

Alex paused, obviously in deep thought as she contemplated the situation.

“We could steal their clothes,” she suggested.

“Actually,” I said, grinning wickedly, “I was thinking of something a little more… unconventional.”



“The coast is clear,” whispered Alex, peeking her head around the corner of the pillar.

“Right,” I muttered, looking at Dan who stood crouched behind me, completely on the alert.

We crept down the staircase to the landing, where the door to the boy’s dormitory was visible. It was covered in posters, photographs and even graffiti, all marked with the phrases like ‘If you’re reading this, why are you so close to the door?’ or ‘Keep Out, that means you Charlie Walker.’ But mostly it was covered in giant lettering reading ‘The Marauders.’

McGonagall had tried to remove it but Potter had used some of Fred’s dad’s non-removable glue, and it wouldn’t come off.

I never heeded the large, forbidding signs on the numerous occasions that I had broken into their dormitory. Dan and Max and I joined Alex in front of the dormitory door and I pushed it open, my wand at the ready.

There was a familiar clang from inside, which signalled the warning bell they had set up around the door. I shot a jinx in the bell’s direction and it stopped abruptly.

I was now not only accustomed to ignoring the signs on the door, but also getting rid of the alarm bell before it could raise any attention on their part.

I took a step inside. The boys had already gone done to breakfast, and knowing their love of food, they might be down there for a while. Max, Dan and Alex followed me in, still on the alert, ready in case one of the marauders jumped out from underneath a bed.

“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” asked Alex, looking doubtfully at the unmade beds and the clothes strewn across the floor.

“Just come on,” I sighed.

Dan ventured into the dormitory and began to throw open their wardrobes in a dramatic manner.

“Do you think they’ve hidden our clothes in here?” she asked, glaring around with suspicion.

“I doubt it,” said Max, “They’d have known we’d try to break in and take it all back.”

I threw open the first wardrobe that I reached. It was filled with a pile of unfolded and crumpled laundry.

Now, I was no stranger to crumpled clothes and untidiness, but even this was a bit much.

“Gross,” muttered Dan, looking at the pile of clothes with disgust, “Don’t boys know how to wash their clothes?”

“Apparently not,” I said, “Well I suppose we’ll just have to get on with it.”

“No way,” said Dan, taking a step away from the wardrobe and a step closer to the door, “Absolutely no way in hell.”

“Oh come on Dan, what did you expect?” I sighed in frustration, “Spic, span, squeaky clean room? Made up beds? This is the Marauders we’re talking about.”

“Still,” she muttered sulkily, “I though they’d have at least taken some lessons in basic hygiene.”

“You were the one who’s so worried about getting her expensive clothes back,” I pointed out.

She pouted crossly and sighed.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” she said, “I guess the looks on their faces will be enough reward.”

I looked around to see that Max and Alex were already in action.

“That’s the spirit,” I grinned mischievously.



“This was a terrible idea,” Zach murmured.

“Shut up, mate,” I chuckled, “It was bloody brilliant.”

“One of our best yet,” agreed Owen.

“Next time you do something as stupid as this, count me out,” Zach muttered.

“Don’t be such a wuss,” grinned Fred, leaning back in his chair, “What are you so worried about?”

“Oh I don’t know,” sighed Zach sarcastically, “Maybe because Walker’s famous for getting violent revenge. This could get ugly.”

We sat in transfiguration, eagerly waiting for the girls to show themselves. They hadn’t been seen at breakfast, which was a good sign. It showed that they were panicking. Walker always had quick revenge, and if there was no retaliation after a while, it meant she was stumped.

“Relax Zach,” I smirked, clapping him on the back, “it’s only Walker.”

“Are we talking about the same Walker?” asked Zach, raising his eyebrows at me.

I continued to give him a dismissive look.

He raised his hands in surrender, “Fine. Fine, but allow me to say I told you so when you end up in the hospital wing tomorrow.”


“Alright class,” said Professor McGonagall, appearing at the front of the classroom with a grim expression on her face, “what we will be studying today shall be specifically tested on your OWL exams so it is vital that you take notes and…” She trailed off, having noticed that a row towards the back was completely empty. She turned her head sharply in my direction.

"Potter, what have you done to Miss Walker and her friends?” she asked abruptly.

“Nothing!” I cried in fake surprise, “Aw, come on Professor, why do you always assume it’s me?”

“You know the answer to that question Mr. Potter,” she sighed, “Stay after class today. You three as well.”

We all groaned in unison. Secretly we were quite pleased at the attention our prank was attracting.

I leaned back on my chair and smirked, almost gleeful because it seemed I had finally beaten her.


An hour later we were well into the lesson, still listening to McGonagall talk about the deep, intellectual side of transfiguring objects into living things and visa versa. The only thing that kept me awake was the fact that Walker and the others still hadn’t turned up.

I continuously turned my head to look at the door, growing more and more anxious and yet more and more triumphant. Clearly they were stuck in their dormitory, too humiliated to come to class in their pyjamas.

I turned back to McGonagall, who was still talking.

“Now this spell is quite similar in theory to that of turning felines into water jugs, which you hopefully remember from last week’s lesson. This week I want you all to write a three foot long essay on turning animals into commonplace objects.”

The class groaned in frustration.

“Make sure it’s in by next week,” said McGonagall, ignoring our cries of protest, “If you forget it I shall give you a detention for at least - CHARLOTTE WALKER WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!”

Fred, who sat beside me, whipped his head in the direction that she had suddenly screeched in surprise.

“No way,” he muttered in a low, whispering voice that was filled with incredulity.

I turned, dreading what I might see.

My jaw dropped.

All four Gryffindor girls stood at the back of the classroom, all wearing our uniforms.

Our uniforms.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Walker looked triumphant. They all did.

They all wore the familiar boy’s uniform of long black trousers, un-tucked white shirts and a red and gold tie.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Those are our uniforms!” Owen shouted loudly in indignation. McGonagall looked as though she was in a state of shock.

“Sorry we’re late professor,” said Dan, sliding into a seat in their familiar row at the back.

“We had a little problem,” added Max.

“All our clothes were mysteriously gone this morning,” continued Walker.

“So we were in need of some new ones,” said Alex.

“And the boys dormitory was the only one we could get into,” finished Walker. She flicked her long dark hair in my direction and smiled angelically, “Hope you don’t mind Potter.”

My mouth was still hanging open.

Damn she’s good.

McGonagall seemed to have regained her ability to talk and she cleared her throat.


Walker winked at me. I glared back at her.

“My office,” McGonagall cried shrilly, “As soon as the lesson is over. All of you.”

She glared at me, and then turned her gaze to Walker who still sat grinning like a cat who’d got the cream.


“Well if it isn’t Charles, Maximillian, Daniel and Alexander,” I said jokingly as the rest of the Marauders and I caught up with them outside McGonagall’s office.

Walker didn’t waste time.

She swung around to face me and delivered a large punch on my nose.

Fuck, that hurt.

It really, really hurt.

I staggered backwards in shock.

I clutched at my nose and I could feel blood dripping down my face. Grimacing in pain, I glared up at her. She looked furious, the cheerful, triumphant expression from earlier gone without a trace.

Zach coughed quietly beside me, “I think this is the best time to say I told you so.”

“Thanks mate,” I growled.

That was for stealing our clothes,” snarled Walker aggressively, shaking her fist lightly, as though the punch hadn’t hurt at all, “And there’s plenty more where that came from if you don’t tell us where you’ve put them.”

“Give us back our uniforms,” Fred growled.

“When you give us ours back,” snapped Max.

I opened my mouth to retort but McGonagall opened her office door, her eyes ablaze with fury.

“Enter,” she said stiffly, looking as though she was trying hard not to explode.

For once, we obeyed her.

Once we were all inside we stood there, the girls on one side, us on the other.

“First thing’s first,” said McGonagall sharply. She pulled out her wand and flicked it at the girls. In the blink of an eye they were all wearing their usual uniforms.

A look of slight disappointment flickered across each of their faces.

“Now, gentlemen,” said McGonagall, “Where are their real uniforms?”

I remained sulkily quiet. It was childish, I know. But I wasn’t giving up that easily.

McGonagall sighed in frustration.

“I am sick and tired of having to sort out your brawls as if you are nothing more than five year olds. In fact, if you are not going to explain yourselves then you can sort it out yourselves.”

Eight pairs of eyebrows rose simultaneously.

“Please leave,” added McGonagall, “And clean yourself up Potter.”

We all got up. I smeared my face with my sleeve and saw that it was still covered in blood. I swore under my breath.

Once we were all outside the others dispersed to their next class.

It was just Walker and me alone in the corridor, glaring at each other.

“If you won’t tell me where they are-“ she began.

“What’s going on here?” came a loud, forceful voice.

Someone pushed themselves between us. I scowled.

It was Jeremy Peakes, the Gryffindor quidditch captain. He was a sixth year, with broad shoulders and a dark facial expression. He spent most of his time brooding and trying to look serious by furrowing his eyebrows. He also liked to swagger around arrogantly because he was captain, a position that he knew I desperately wanted.

“Nothing that concerns you Peakes,” said Walker sharply.

It astonished me how rude she was to Peakes, especially if he was rude to her. She constantly flipped him off during practice, and told him a large variety of places that he could go.

But she was, unfortunately, a good beater, and Peakes wasn’t stupid. Most of the time.

“Watch your tone,” said Peakes hotly, looking annoyed. He looked at me, “What’s wrong with your face Potter?”

“Nothing,” I growled, wiping my face on my sleeve again. I winced because at the touch the pain flared up.

Peakes recognized this to be Walker’s handiwork and he rounded on her.

“What have I said about injuring your teammates?” he barked at her.

“Shove off, Peakes,” she glared, emboldened by his aggressive tone.

“This is the last straw Walker!” He exclaimed loudly, “You’re off the team!”

Oh, now that I wasn’t expecting. Walker looked furious but Peakes didn’t flinch like the idiot he was.

If she’d looked at me like that, I would be running as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

“You can’t do that!” she cried.

“I’m the captain I can do what I like,” Peakes sniggered, “And I’ve had enough of you hitting Potter.”

“Believe me he deserved it!” she cried.

“I’ve warned you enough times!” insisted Peakes, still glaring at her but now there was a sort of triumph in his face, like he had finally won. “You’re off the team Walker.”

“You know you’ll never find another beater,” she said brusquely, “The game is tomorrow!”

“If I try hard enough I will, believe me it’ll be worth it to be rid of you,” said Peakes.

“Unbelievable!” she uttered incredulously. She rounded on me, rage in her eyes, “YOU!”

I was taken aback. I wasn’t the one who’d just ordered her off the team. I mean she’d just punched me in the face for crying out loud.

“This is your fault!” she exclaimed.

“You asked for this Walker!” I yelled. I pointed to my nose. “This fucking hurts!”

“Aw poor Potter can’t handle being beaten up by a girl,” sniggered Peakes.

I know, it looked like he was defending me in all this but Peakes never passes up an opportunity to make me look like an idiot or to mock me as much as possible.

“That doesn’t count!” I said in my defence, “She doesn’t count as a girl.”

There was an awkward pause.

I expected Walker to be glaring furiously at me, but she looked blank, almost expressionless, as though I’d merely commented on the weather. The sudden change in her expression was almost unsettling. I had hardly ever seen her without a wicked grin or an angry scowl on her face. This was something different. She looked uninterested.

“See you at the game tomorrow,” she muttered to Peakes.

“I meant what I said Walker, you’re off-,”

But she didn’t hang around to listen to him. She marched away.

“Nice job Potter,” snapped Peakes, turning to me, “Now she’ll never back down.”

“You were the one who threw her off the team!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah and then you just had to go and throw in the jab about her not being a girl.”

I scowled at him and stalked off.

“Evening practice tonight Potter,” Peakes called after me, “6 pm sharp, don’t be late. It’s for the match tomorrow. Make sure Walker’s crystal clear about her being off the team. If she comes tonight I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

I heard him, but decided not to answer.





I marched into the common room and collapsed into an old armchair around the fire beside Max after classes had finished.

“Peakes threw me off the team,” I said plainly, finally spilling what I had been wanting to tell her all day.

She raised her head in surprise, “What? Why?”

“He saw that I’d punched Potter,” I muttered, fiddling with my nails sulkily.

“So he knocked you off the team?!” cried Max in alarm, “That’s totally out of order!”

“No,” I said monotonously, “He was right. I’m too violent. I hit Potter like I’m a boy. Hell, I practically am a boy.”

“Who told you this?” exclaimed Max, looking slightly angry.

“No one,” I sighed.

“It was Potter wasn’t it?” she growled.

“No,” I lied.

“You listen to me Charlie Walker,” said Max, looking at me seriously, “Just because you punch like a boy doesn’t mean you are one. You’re just…stronger than most.”

I chuckled slightly.

“Good news,” said Max, “they gave back the clothes. We got into the dormitory about half an hour ago and they’d all been returned.”

Well, it was about time. Potter and his comrades had clearly got the message. I sighed a breath of relief.

“Thank goodness,” I said, “I don’t think I could manage another Dan Abbott breakdown.”


Max laughed quietly to herself, “She’s up there now, hugging all her pairs of jeans,” she said, “She was stroking them lovingly last time I checked.”

I grinned at this.

“But Peakes dropped you when the game against Hufflepuff is tomorrow?” she continued, frowning seriously, “That’s a little risky.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” I said firmly, “I’m not moving. I earned my place on that team, and I’m not letting some annoying, poncy captain take it away from me.”

“That’s the spirit!” Max grinned. I gritted my teeth with determination.

I didn’t care what Potter or Peakes had to say about it, or however many taunting jokes they threw at me. They would have to try a lot harder than this if they wanted to get rid of me.

There was noise to our left and I inclined my head towards the staircase. Potter, his brother Albus and his cousin Rose were talking in hurried low whispers.

Then all at once they turned and made for the portrait hole.

Something about the way Rose briefly caught my eye and looked away guiltily was off, and the weird, hurried way that they were walking made me jump up from my armchair and spring in front of them, blocking their way to the portrait hole.

“Where’re you going Potter?” I said, folding my arms and frowning at him suspiciously.

“Nowhere,” he said quickly.

“Rose?” I asked, turning to her, “Al?”

They both pretended to have a sudden interest in their fingernails.

“It’s something to do with the team isn’t it?” I snapped, “A pre-game practice? A tactics meeting?”

“No,” said James.

“Absolutely not,” said Rose.

“Nothing of the sort,” added Albus.

I realised they weren’t going to tell me anything. Peakes had probably told them to keep information from me.

“Fine,” I sighed, privately deciding to follow them once they had left.

They continued towards the portrait hole. Rose turned her head slightly and mouthed ‘sorry’ to me.

I nodded at her. I liked Rose. She was a clever girl who had her head firmly on the ground and played chaser for the team. She also had a genuine sense of humour, and more than anything else she knew how to handle Potter.

The portrait hole closed as they left. I saluted Max and she nodded, already knowing what I was going to do. I waited fifteen seconds and then left after them.


I could see them at the end of the corridor. I followed them at a distance, yet I moved quickly, managing to catch fragments of their conversation.

“So just like that?” said Albus in concern, “Peakes just dropped her.”

“Git,” said Rose.

Now what are we going to do?” asked Albus, “Charlie’s the one who protects us from the bludgers, now we actually have to watch out for them?”

“Bloody Peakes.”

I grinned to myself as Rose voiced the exact words that were going through my head at that exact moment.

Bloody Peakes. Bloody, stupid annoying git-faced Peakes, swaggering around like he owned the place, furrowing his eyebrows and flicking back his hair.

God I hate him.

Maybe even more than Potter. No, scratch that, that’s impossible.

The others had left the entrance hall, and I edged out slowly after them, always keeping at a distance. They were making their way towards the quidditch pitch,

I knew it! They were having a pre-game practice, and Peakes hadn’t told me. I suppose he didn’t feel the need to, since he knocked me off the team about six hours ago.

Still, no one tells Charlie Walker what to do. Charlie Walker doesn’t go down without a fight.


I really need to stop thinking of myself in the third person.

The sun was slowly sinking in the evening sky, as it was getting colder and colder and it got dark earlier and earlier.

 It wasn’t just James, Albus and Rose that were walking down to the field. As well as the rest of the team (I could spot Joanna Rees, and Rose’s friend Sarah Finnegan, chasers) several other Gryffindors were making their way down to the field too, all dressed for quidditch.

I frowned and quickened my step, catching up with Rose, Albus and James. James growled at my appearance. He stopped and faced me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped.

“I followed you, you idiot!” I glowered at him, “What the hell is this? Practice, and I wasn’t invited?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re no longer on the team.”

“It’s only over when I say so,” I snapped, “Where the bloody hell is Peakes? Did he tell you to keep me away?”

“As a matter of fact,” said James coldly.

“Charlie,” murmured Albus calmly, “Don’t make things worse than they already are.”

I looked at him in surprise. Deep down I knew that wise little Albus Potter was right, but my pride wouldn’t let me agree with him.

“I’m sorry you got kicked off,” Rose said to me, “That Peakes is a real tosser.”

She touched my arm gently. I was touched at her sympathy, but Potter just looked angry.

“It’s her own fault she’s not on the team, jeez Rose whose side are you on?”

“That has nothing to do with it,” I interrupted him, “Who are all these people? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on Walker,” came a long drawl, “Is that we’re looking for your replacement. This is tryouts.”

I looked around and saw Peakes striding over, pushing his chest out arrogantly like he thought it made him look cool and manly. It had the opposite effect.

“You can’t have tryouts right before the game!” I cried, “You need at least a month in advance.”

“Well we’ll find someone,” Peakes drawled, “Someone who’ll be talented enough to be prepared. Beaters aren’t a vital part of the team, Walker.”

“Well I suppose you’re also a beater so you’d know all about being useless,” I sneered, “You know you’ll never find anyone as good as me.”

“Careful Walker,” said Peakes, smirking at me, “Boasting isn’t an attractive quality in a lady.”

I flipped him off and marched past him into the stadium that was slowly filling up with people.


People turned to stare in my direction and I waved my hands violently in the direction of the stadium exit.

“WALKER!” Peakes bellowed from about twenty metres away, looking livid, “GET THE HELL OFF THE FIELD! DON’T GO ANYWHERE, POTENTIAL BEATERS! POSITION OF BEATER IS WIDE OPEN!”

He finished his speech with a smirk that made my blood boil.

He approached me, and he was close enough to not have to yell.

"I’m staying here,” I growled, “I’m not going to leave while you find my replacement.”

“Fine,” he sneered, “But if you so much as touch a beater’s bat, a bludger or a broom I’ll carry you out myself.”

I stormed off and stood beside the queue that had formed in front of the sign up sheet. Peakes joined me to observe the potential candidates that cowered slightly under my glare.

“That one’s too short,” I snapped, pointing to a small fourth year who flinched at my words.

“Shut it Wal-”

“And that one doesn’t have enough muscle,” I pointed to a girl whose arm was exposed as she lifted the quill to sign her name.

“Go away, Walker,” said Peakes angrily.

“Make me,” I replied coldly.

“Believe me, I will,” he sneered, “that is if you don’t shut up, and go and sit in the stands like the rest of the spectators.”


“What are you? Five? Go and sit in the stadium!”

“Yes mum,” I sneered.

A girl came running up to us, drawing Peake’s attention away from me.

I recognized her as Faye Hamel, a tall ravenclaw girl who ran the school newspaper, the Hogwarts grapevine. She was also the best student in our year and resident teachers pet.

She was everything I hated in a person: snobby, rich, two faced, perfect at everything, and beautiful.

Well, I don’t hate beautiful people. Just the ones who show it off and think it makes them better than everyone else. Like Faye.

She had a sort of light, reddish brown hair and brown eyes, with perfect porcelain skin.

Every guy in our school went slightly speechless in her presence, especially Potter, who made his admiration of her no secret. But it was comforting knowing that she had no clue as to what his name was, and she’d never made it her business to know either.

“Am I too late?” she said, smiling charmingly at Peakes.

Wow, how anyone could mange to speak that politely to a person as sickeningly conceited as Peakes was beyond me. But I suppose she was good enough of an actress to disguise her horrible personality, so it all added up.

“Not at all,” Peakes drawled, drawing back his shoulders and puffing out his chest again. I stifled a laugh.

“You’re right on time!” he exclaimed.

“Oh thank goodness,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief and giggling in a way that set my teeth on edge, “It was a little last minute.”

From the corner of my eye I spotted James coming our way briskly, attracted by Faye’s appearance like a moth to a flame.

“Hi Faye,” he approached her from behind, grinning idiotically.

“Oh, hello Jason,” she said, vaguely waving him away, leaving him looking crestfallen.

I was convulsing with silent laughter behind Peakes’ shoulder.

“This’ll bring great press for the game tomorrow,” said Faye, looking around her, “Everyone’ll want to see Gryffindor’s new last minute beater.”

Wait, what?

“Hold on a second,” I interrupted loudly, pushing myself between her and Peakes, “You’re doing a piece on the tryouts?”

She blinked at me.

“Oh,” she looked at Peakes, a little derisive smile forming in the corners of her lips, “ So you’re the old beater. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

I glared at her. She smiled innocently back, but her eyes were mocking me.

Peakes laughed jovially at her words. I felt a sudden urge to punch him in the stomach.

“Can I get a quote?” she asked, pulling a quick notes quill out of her bag.

“No,” I growled, stalking away.

I saw the quill scribbling violently across the paper and heard Faye’s high-pitched giggle ring out behind me. My fists clenched in anger.

I stormed off the pitch. I had decided I could no longer watch what was likely to turn into a completely humiliating turn of events.


Authors Note: Hey guys, well, the new chapter is finally up! hope you guys enjoyed it! The queue opened up on my birthday, which is very exciting, so i'm excited about this chapter :) Let me know what you thought in a review, the good bits, the not-so-good bits, the rubbish bits, all of it! Just a few words in the little grey box below :) i promise i'll answer them all! And i'd just like to give a quick shout out to my new beta, the fabulous Knockturn Alley, thank you so much!

The next chapter'll be up very soon! But until then, here's a little preview...


Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alex quickly slide a newspaper under the table.

“What’s that?” I asked promptly.

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“Give it to me,” I held out my hand.

“You don’t want to see this,” said Dan, shaking her head solemnly.

“Just give it to me!” I cried.

Alex reluctantly handed it over.

I looked at the front page and immediately my heart dropped like a stone.

See you guys soon! Thanks for reading, and, hopefully, reviewing!


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