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Memoirs of a Chaser by wingtipswaltz
Chapter 1 : Prologue
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 3


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Hello! This is my first story since getting back on hpff, and I'm really excited about writing a new one for everyone :D

This is only a taster of the story, SO I KNOW IT'S SHORT :) It's only a prologue, there is definitely more to come.

Everything belongs to JK, apart from Elana, she's my brain child :)

Enjoy!

____________________________

“YEAAAAHHHH!”

My cry of victory resonated around the colossal stadium, and I did a loop in the air on my broomstick. The crowd roared and I watched our seeker fist-pump the air with the golden snitch tightly grasped in his leather-gloved hand. I felt adrenaline flood my veins; the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end as I flew as fast as I could towards my team mates, who were congregating forty feet in the air. I joined them and held whoever I could, tears of joy streaming down all our cheeks as the realisation of what we had just achieved hit us.

Our team captain led us in a lap of victory around the pitch, the crowd’s cheers and songs filling my ears, and I didn’t even need to try to smile. We had won the Quidditch World Cup. I looked to my left as we lapped the pitch for a second time, and grinned at my husband, who smiled back and grasped my hand as we flew through the air together.

___________________________

5h September, 1977

Sirius was always better at charms than I was. One example was this: I dragged my heavy trunk, owl, broomstick and bag down the corridor of the poxy little flat that we shared in east London, nearly slipping a disk, and he sent his floating gently down the stretch of hall, letting it land neatly on the front door mat with a gentle thud. I turned to him and he looked at me smugly.

“Do you want me to do the protective charms then?” He asked as he walked back into the living room, running his fingers through his dark hair. I started ticking off things on the checklist in my head. Broomstick, check. Books, check. Uniform, check. I think.

“Erm... yes, good idea.” I said, unlocking my trunk to search for my uniform. It was there. Check. I followed Sirius back into the living room where he was double checking that the electricity was off around the whole flat. I went up behind him and tucked in the label that was sticking up from the collar of his V-neck jumper, my fingertips brushing the skin on the back of his neck. He turned around and leant against the counter of our kitchenette, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow, eyeing me up with an air of mock seduction.

“Miss Cole, getting a bit close aren’t we?” He smirked, shifting his weight onto his other leg. I gave him my ‘you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me’ look which I tended to give Sirius on a regular basis.

My name is Elana Cole. Seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and official best friend/wingman for Sirius Black; womaniser and sex addict extraordinaire. Our friendship started when we were both about two years old, and he used to come round to my house (which was conveniently the house next to his) and we used to play in my paddling pool. Naked. Obvious proof that Sirius Black has trouble keeping his clothes on, even in his early years.

So after frolicking in my paddling pool for a few summers, we became inseparable. We attended our first year of Hogwarts together, were sorted into the same house, and when he left home due to his bitch of a mother crushing him under her fat thumb and disowning him, we decided to buy a flat together in London with the money that his uncle has left him.
“No, I’m not.” I said with a smirk, in answer to his question. “And you know I’m not.”

“I know, I know, I’m just messing.” He replied with a wink. “But, we do have to start thinking about getting you a boyfriend a some point in this year.”

I backed off, and furrowed my brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you are in your last year at Hogwarts and you still haven’t had your cherry po-”

“Sirius!” I interrupted him, and slapped his arm. I looked at my watch which read ten thirty. “Come on, we should get going. The train leaves in half an hour. Have you turned everything off?”

“Yep, all done. Fridge empty?” I opened the door to check and threw a lump of stale cheese out of the window into the wheelie bin below.

“Okay then, let’s go” I said, making my way down the hall. I shoved our belongings out of the front door and Sirius protected the flat with a variety of enchantments. With both hands on our luggage, we apparated out of the hallways outside our flat to Platform 9 3/4.

We arrived on the platform with steam from the train billowing around our ankles, the chatter of families and kids filling our ears.

“Sirius! Elana!” I heard our names called, and spun around to see a tall, skinny boy with black hair that was sticking up at the back as usual, and dark hazel eyes that shone through round glasses.

So it starts again. A whole year of lovesick trauma, as I was in love with James Potter.




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