Amazing CI by Bear&Fox at TDA <3
It wasn’t fair.
Six years, four with Quidditch, endless fights and detentions, and he managed to do it. Sodding Potter had gotten that Captain’s badge.
“Rina, calm down, the hallway is not the right time to explode…”
His connections had obviously helped him. How else would he have gotten the coveted title?
“Breathe, he’s coming this way, please don’t hex him in front of McGonagall…”
It was inevitable that one of us would have gotten the badge after Peter Wood left last year. I mean, I guess it would have stung less if someone like Roberts had got it – brilliant person, rubbish chaser – but of all people… Potter.
“C’mon Rina, let’s walk away slowly now…”
So I guess you’re wondering why I hated James Potter the Second (or as I prefer it, Junior), so much. It seems a little… undeserved, no?
See, it all started (not that) long ago, in second year. Little Katrina Fields, daughter of the Minister of Magic. Returning to Hogwarts after a boring summer for her second year, eager to continue the school life. Since a young age, I strived to be the best at everything because of the desired image my parents constantly pushed me to be. I succeeded easily in academics, but had trouble in the magical sport of Quidditch. For once in my life, I had to work to beat everyone else, for I had competition – James Potter, the son of the famous Harry Potter. He was actually quite good – the Quidditch skills in his genes had clearly come through.
Potter constantly taunted, teased, and mocked me as we rose through the ranks of the Gryffindor Quidditch team – him being a seeker while I was a beater. However, I fought back quite a bit – Potter was the victim of plenty of my pranks and beater’s bat whacks.
So, you could probably feel my frustration of seeing Potter sauntering across the common room as if he owned it. Sadly, in my mind, he now did. Potter had the one title which I had wanted for my whole school life, and he flaunted it in my face. He wiggled his eyebrows at me across the hall, laughing with his friends. He smirked at the utter disbelief on my face.
You see, McGonagall and Professor Longbottom had taken such a long time to decide the recipient of the title that they hadn’t handed it out before school started.
They waited until today, in the second week of school, allowing Potter even more satisfaction.
“See something you like, Fields?” He couldn’t help tanuting as he walked away.
That stupid, son of a-
“Come on, Rina!”
My two pals tugged my arms and herded me up two flights of stairs into our dorm, interrupting my inner rambling. Dom Weasley and Laura Green looked at me with apprehension. At least, Laura did. Dom was snickering, most likely because she anticipated my incoming tantrum.
“AAAAAGGGHHHH! I just can’t stand him! That stupid prat gets everything he wants! ONE thing which I have strived for, and he gets it just like that! And then has the guts to MOCK me!” I growled in frustration while pounding my pillow with force.
Laura was hiding behind her own pillow, as she usually did when I was angry. Dom was sitting on her bed and watching me amusedly.
“Rina, James didn’t really mock you. Not like he usually does…” She started, though I just glared at her.
It made her be quiet – my glare is quite terrifying.
“You know what the worst thing is, you two? It’s that after all this time, he now has a position of power over me. I have to actually listen to him and obey what he tells me to do! Not only is my pride hurt, but he’s probably going to abuse his position and humiliate me!” I flopped down, face first, onto my pillow before rolling and falling off the bed.
Oh, well. The floor was quite comfy during a meltdown.
Dom and Laura came and sat on the floor beside me. Dom started to pat my head, trying to be comforting – not that it worked.
Laura piped up while she leaned against a bedframe. “Well, will food make you feel better? It’s almost lunch.” Gah. The girl knew exactly how to end my moping. It was quite unfortunate, actually, as I was in a moping mood.
I grumbled my assent to them as they started to pull me back downstairs. It was a Saturday afternoon, which were usually enjoyable. More so without random blows to my pride, like today.
We headed to the Gryffindor table, an instant picker-upper – food! How sad. Far from normal teenage girl behaviour. (Case in point, the bimbo Hufflepuffs who ate nothing but rabbit food, ahem, lettuce – yuck).
“So Laura, how are the goings-on with Fred?” I nudged her and she turned instantly red. Laura was crazy smart and was paired with Potter’s cousin Fred for tutoring. The boy was nice and all, but was hideous when it came to Transfiguration. Laura, on the other hand, was a genius at it – thus, a perfect pair was born. She always came back from tutoring him acting all red and giggly, which was unusual for her. The only problem was that she would not admit her growing feelings, though it made it easy for Dom and I to tease her.
“Welp – well, not much you know, just Transfigurationness…” She turned red (of course) and tried the well worn distraction technique. “Hey, have you guys ever had red velvet cupcakes?” Her eyes were excited and darting around.
Dom snorted and bopped her on the head. “Yes, you dolt, we had them last Friday. Now stop trying to divert our attention from Fraura – or rather, the short form Fro.”
Had she finally lost it? “Dom, what in the name of Merlin’s left sock is Fraura?” I looked at the loon.
Dom sniffed at me and Laura, who looked utterly confused. “Fraura, my dear ninnies, is Fred’s and Lo’s couple name! Their names combined – duh.”
I have neglected to mention the fact that Dom spent all of last summer watching old American films on her grandad’s sputtering muggle TV. She mastered the use of American slang quite quickly.
Well, the name Fro did make sense… sort of. It just sounded trashy. I raised my eyebrows at her.
“Dom, that sounds stupid.”
“Say what you want Rina, but it will stick after they get together!” She harrumphed and shoved food into her mouth.
I sighed and glanced at Laura, who had a slightly dreamy look on her face after hearing “Fraura”. Blimey.
I snapped my finger’s in front of her face. “Lo, just take it slow, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt by him or anything – he never really gets tied down by any girl, and we all know how easily you fall for someone…”
A boisterous voice came from behind me. “Who doesn’t get tied down? No matter. Well, helloooo there, Fields. Missing something from your uniform, are you?” Potter, surrounded by his pals Fred Weasley, Adam Wilson, and Liam Baker came up to our spot at the table. He flashed his captain’s badge in my face, reflecting the overhead light.
Brightness! Gah. I couldn’t take him and his blindness techniques. Stupid git and his captain’s badge. Which should have rightfully been mine. I tried to burn a hole through the badge with my eyes.
It didn’t work. Where did random superhero powers go when you needed them? They always came spontaneously in Muggle comic books!
Yes, I read those… my slight rebellion as a little girl to defy my parents, who were obsessed with everything perfect about magic.
Hey, I never said my logic was good.
Back to the present. I still hadn’t said anything to the prat and his minions. Was I expected to? Well, considering I argued with him every time we came in contact, I guess so.
I flopped my head onto the table, but not before Laura hurriedly moved my plate out of the way. Hmph. Mashed potato face masks were totally cool, but noo.
Unlike superpowers, though, inspiration came when you least expected it. Like the present moment.
My words were slightly muffled by the table. “Potter, please sod off. I’m even being polite! Just because you have some stupid-” thump “-badge does not give you many bragging rights.”
He snorted. “Fields, you idiot, I can now tell you to do whatever I want at practice. You’ll be my minion!”
Ouch. See, this is where my brilliance came in. I decided to aim low. I sat up properly and stared him straight in the eye. “Face it Potter, Daddy probably spoke to
McGonagall behind your back. Even when you told him not to do so. After all, won’t Quidditch scouts be more impressed if you have that shiny little badge? We both know that your snitch catch times are getting slower-“ (found out by eavesdropping last year between Potter and our old captain, Wood) “-so don’t even try to act like you’re better than me. Clearly, you did not earn that badge with skill. Unlike you, my stats are getting better.” I turned up my nose triumphantly.
Laura’s mouth dropped open and Dom promptly smacked her forehead. Fred started going “Oooohh…” until Adam bopped him on the head.
James’ eyes narrowed as he came up really close to my face. Um, ew. Personal space, dude. “Well,” he hissed, “If you’re so high and mighty, let’s see who can get more scouts this year-”
Liam interrupted. He was our keeper, and a cracking one at that. After all, he was Peter Wood’s younger brother – he was a reserve until this year. “Um, well guys, it’s still only sixth year, more scouts will come for you guys in seventh-“
“SHUT UP, LIAM.” Potter and I shouted at the same time, then looked at each other in disgust. It caused everyone else to start laughing. Bah.
To distract our wayward pals, I continued on Potter’s previous tangent. “Fine. Let’s see who can get more scouts as sixth years! I’ll beat you easy. Heck, I bet Droopy Drella can beat you, Mr. Declining Skills.” In case you were wondering, Droopy Drella was exactly that – droopy. She was a now third year and a chaser on the Hufflepuff team.
But, aside from the point.
Potter glared at me. He looked indignant, as if he deserved the dumb badge. “Fine, Fields. We’ll see at the end of the year who has more scouting opportunities. I wouldn’t even try if I was you – practices will be hell for you if The Captain has anything to say about it.” He said the title like a six year old. Sheesh. The “Daddy” comment probably hurt his ego.
Potter stalked away with his pals, muttering “self centered bint” under his breath. Well, that was slightly rude. His pals followed, not really bothered by our exchange. In fact, Fred stole Laura’s lunch plate and continued walking while eating. This didn’t even bother her a bit.
Was this normal behaviour?
Anyway, Dom and the lovesick puppy glanced at me nervously. I shrugged at them as I turned back to my food.
“What? I can defend myself. He’ll probably be too chicken to do anything too terrible at Quidditch practice. I’ll be fine, you’ll see!”
“COME ON, FIELDS, IS THAT REALLY ALL YOU’VE GOT? YOU’RE BRINGING THE WHOLE TEAM DOWN! BEATERS, HIT SOME BLUDGERS AT HER!” Potter hollered at me through a magically enhanced microphone.
“POTTER, YOU FOOL, I AM ONE OF THE BEATERS!” I grit my teeth as I flipped him the bird. He’d been doing this for the whole first sodding practice!
After practice was done, I would hex him until the sun don’t shine. That’s right. Honestly, I couldn’t even believe he was doing this! He was abusing his position as the bloody captain of the team and treating me like dirt!
I swerved my broom to avoid a bludger hit by my fellow beater, Fred. He looked at me apologetically as he flew away. See, Fred was nice. I followed the swerving bludger and lined it up perfectly with Potter’s head. I got ready to swing and-
Damn. He noticed and swerved out of the way as he smirked. “Fields! No aiming at the captain! Laps, now!”
Unfortunately, I had to “respect his authority” and “obey” him. Gah. I seriously loathed him.
Swooping down to the ground and tossing my broom to the side in one fluent motion, I started my running. Laps weren’t really too difficult, you see, so it wasn’t too bad a punishment.
However, the premise of the whole thing really bothered me. That idiot was no better than I was in Quidditch, and had no right to boss me around. However, I ran anyway. I wasn’t going to start begging for mercy or anything.
First lap wasn’t too bad. It was actually quite cool to watch the game from the bottom up. I saw Liam block shots effortlessly – his older brother’s coaching had really helped him. Our chasers – Dommie, 4th year Mason Bridges, and 5th year Robbie Roberts (yes, that was his real name) – were practicing on Liam. Fred was wacking bludgers – oh man, I wished that I was up there with him. For some reason, the violent act of smacking charmed lead balls at people with intent of injury was strangely calming to me. It always helped me release my anger (in a legal way) and it gave me time to think. I did not have to communicate verbally with Fred during games; we usually relied on instinct, facial expressions, and experience – after working with one another for years, we both had knowledge of what the other’s next move would be.
Not trying to be cocky or anything, but Professor Longbottom said that we were up to par with Fred’s dad and his late twin.
No one was up to par with Fred (Senior) and George Weasley.
I was up to my seventh lap by the time I snapped out of my thoughts. Slightly out of breath, I glanced up at Potter, hoping the git would let me stop. It was useless to waste all my energy on laps! When he saw me looking, his features changed into an evil smile.
“Keep going, Fields, I didn’t say you could stop.” In between looking for the snitch, he mimed polishing the captain’s badge pinned to his Quidditch uniform.
This was going to be a long practice.
Hi! Yep, I started a new story... I should be working on Staying Afloat, I know, but I've hit a slight snag. Plot bunnies would not stop running around my head for this one! Let me know what you think by dropping a review :)