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Chapter 3 - Quidditch

'But why? Why can’t I play?’

‘Because you’re too little, Ginny,’ Fred answered automatically. He’d lost count of the times he’d had this conversation. ‘You have to be older for Quidditch.’

‘I am not little!’ said his sister shrilly. ‘I’m eight now! And Ron’s only a year older and you let him play!’

‘Hey, keep me out of this...’

The twins grinned. Just like their older brothers had teased them about not being old enough for Quidditch when they were younger, they enjoyed doing the same to their little sister.

‘I know how to fly, if that’s what you’re saying,’ said Ginny, her arms crossed as she stood outside the back door of The Burrow.

‘How can you know?’ laughed Fred. ‘Hey – wait! You haven’t—’

‘She can’t have, Fred,’ said George rationally. ‘The broom shed’s always locked.’

‘Yeah, you’re just bragging,’ Fred told his sister, convinced. ‘Well, see you! Go play with the gnomes or something.’

With an angry shout of exasperation, their sister went back inside, saying something about telling Mum. The twins laughed in spite of themselves, and made their way to the orchard behind their back garden with their eight-year-old brother Ron, the afternoon sun hot on their necks and a warm breeze ruffling their hair. Their brooms hung over their shoulders and Fred carried a ball strangely decorated with black pentagons he’d found years before in the playground; they were going to use it as a substitute for a Quaffle. Percy never played, and Bill and Charlie apparently were too busy to play with them nowadays; Fred and George had heard their mother say something about a ‘scary stage of life’ called "adolescence". They weren’t too sure what it meant but they didn’t care enough to ask.

‘We’re playing as two teams today, Ron,’ said Fred. ‘You’d better fly better, at least try to outstrip the speed of a butterfly this time.’

Ron scowled and punched his brother playfully. ‘It’s not my fault my broom’s lousy. Anyway, how are we supposed to have two teams with just the three of us?’

‘There’s a girl from the village who’ll be playing too. She says she’s a pretty good Keeper,’ said George, giving him a meaningful look.

They arrived at a wide paddock after a few moments, where Amara was waiting, sitting under the shade of a tree and eating an apple. Her broom lay at her feet, a Nimbus 1000 she’d borrowed from the Burkes’ broom shed. It was quite old, the handle was badly scratched and some of its twigs were bent, but it was good as far as she was concerned.

‘Hey, I thought we were meeting back there,’ said Fred, pointing his thumb behind him.

‘I got a little lost,’ said Amara vaguely, finishing her apple and throwing the core in the trees.

‘Is that a Nimbus?’ George said, walking over and gazing at the broom with wide eyes.

Amara nodded, and the three brothers bent down to get a close look at the broom.

‘The Chudley Cannons use those!’ said Ron excitedly. ‘Can I have a go? It looks amazing – of course if it wasn’t they wouldn’t have got one for everyone in the team... needs polishing, though,’ he added in a proficient tone. ‘And the twigs need to be unbended.’

‘Thanks for pointing that out, Ron, we wouldn’t have realised if it wasn’t for you,’ Fred said, rolling his eyes. Ron’s ears turned scarlet.

Amara saw his embarrassment and smiled. ‘That’s ok – Ron, isn’t it? You can try it out if you like. That Shooting Star’s the same one the Wimbourne Wasps use, so it can’t be too good, can it?’ she laughed, glancing at the twins.

‘The Falmouth Falcons fly on Comet 250s! Those are even worse!’ protested Fred.

‘Yeah, and how come Ickle Ronniekins gets to try the Nimbus and we don’t?’

‘Because at least he supports a decent team,’ said Amara, grinning at the twins’ indignation.

Fred and George got up, Cleansweep 5s in hand.

‘Go on, then,’ smirked Fred.

‘You and Ron against us,’ said George, smirking identically.

‘We were going to be nice and let both of you pair up with one of us—’

Amara snorted and got up, Ron following her lead. They swapped their brooms and turned back to the twins, looking superiorly expectant.

‘Our goalpost is between that tree and that one,’ said Fred. ‘And yours.’ He pointed at two apple trees slightly wider apart than theirs.

‘Wait, we can’t just let you have the upper hand like that. Your goalpost is smaller, so we take the ball,’ said Amara, pulling the football out of Fred’s hands and giving it to Ron, who looked slightly scared at being the Chaser. Fred shrugged in a we’ll-pound-you-anyway way.

‘OK, then,’ he said. ‘Mount your brooms. Ready? – Oh, what’s that behind you Ron? – GO!’

They pushed hard off the ground and flew five, ten, fifteen feet into the air, Ron a few seconds late. It didn’t feel strange to Amara for a second time, but not familiar either. She guessed that after a few more flights she would get used to it. The wind blowing in her face was exhilarating, but it made her feel slightly nervous too. Thirty feet above the ground and she was glad she was wearing shorts instead of a skirt – the wind was strong at this height. She rushed over to the space between their two trees and waited, watching Fred trying to wrestle the ball out of Ron’s hands.

After five minutes of continuous struggle, with Fred swearing loudly (only because Mrs Weasley wasn’t around to hear) and Ron securing the ball tightly underneath his chest and holding onto the Nimbus 1000 for dear life, Amara glanced at the opposite side, where George was crying with mirth and trying not to fall off his broom. She caught his eye and couldn’t help it any longer; she burst out laughing too.

Bent down, laughing uncontrollably, she heard a sharp whoosh to her right; she looked up and saw Fred, punching the air and bowing to an invisible cheering crowd, and behind her, the ball lying innocently in the shade of a tree.

‘Well, that was fast,’ Amara mumbled, crossing her arms and feeling thick for letting him score so easily. George was still laughing on the opposite side, and Fred had gone for the ball.

An hour passed, and as Amara saved another goal (they had changed course a few times and now Amara was Keeper and the others were all trying to score), a bob of red hair and shining glasses appeared below them, yelling something.

‘What’s that, Perce? Sorry, I can’t hear you!’ George shouted back, flying around in circles to annoy him.

‘MUM SAYS—’

‘Oh, who cares what Mum says?’ said Fred.

‘—SHE SAYS IF YOU DON’T COME NOW, YOU’LL BE DE-GNOMING THE GARDEN EVERYDAY FOR—’

Apparently Fred did care what his mother had to say, because he suddenly stopped in mid-throw, and grudgingly landed next to who Amara presumed was his brother. George, Ron, and Amara followed.

‘Well, I guess you’re not half-bad, Amara,’ said Fred, clapping her on the back.

‘Half-bad?’ laughed Amara. ‘Well, actually, that was only my second time Keeping.’

Fred, George and Ron gaped at her.

‘I’d say you’re pretty good, then,’ said George finally, grinning again.

‘Mum’s really angry, you know,’ cut in their brother, pushing up his horn-rimmed glasses. ‘Half the chickens have escaped—’

‘Why’s she blaming us?’ said George innocently.

‘—she found a bunch of gnomes eating Ginny’s birthday cake and Dad’s clothes have gone missing!’

‘The ghoul was cold! That old pyjama he had—’

‘It’s summer, Fred!’ snapped his brother, but Fred and George went on conversationally:

‘What baffles me is how she knew we’d fed the chickens that weird potion—’

‘—we did try to keep them from flying away, mind—’

‘—but we definitely didn’t let any gnomes near Ginny’s birthday cake, at least not on purpose.’

Their brother looked on the brink of exploding, so Amara quickly bade them goodbye and made her way out of the orchard, this time taking the lane going from The Burrow to the village. She didn’t want to imagine their mother’s reaction after seeing their brother’s. She laughed quietly. Having a big family must be fun.

Something thudded to her right and she heard a soft ‘umph!’ as someone fell. She looked around curiously, and peering through a clump of trees, she saw a girl getting up from the ground, a broom in her hand. She wasn’t much younger than Amara, and she recognized a long mane of bright red hair.

‘Hey, you’re from around here, right?’ she said, walking towards her.

The girl jerked around, her long hair gleaming in the sun. ‘Oh – hi. I thought you were a Muggle.’

‘No, I’m not,’ confirmed Amara, indicating her broom and realising that she'd left the Nimbus back with Ron. ‘Why weren’t you practicing with the others?’

‘You know my brothers?’ she asked, quite startled. ‘Oh, well, they don’t let me. Say I’m too young...’ she mumbled.

‘What? That’s stupid,’ said Amara sympathetically.

‘So were you playing just now?’ asked the girl rather sadly.

‘Yes, well – don’t worry, I’ll tell them to—’

‘Oh, no, don’t even bother,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying as long as I can remember. Guess I’ll have to practice on my own. Then they’ll be all surprised when they see me on the team at Hogwarts...’ she trailed off, staring ahead.

‘I’ll practice with you.’

Ginny looked back at her suddenly.

‘I mean – if you want to, that is...’

‘That’s awesome! Of course I want to! What position are you?’

‘Um, Keeper, I think...’

‘That’s perfect, then! I play Chaser, though practicing with apples is rather different... What’s your name, by the way? I’m Ginny.’

‘I’m Amara,’ she said. Ginny took out an apple from her robes and mounted her broom. She raced towards two trees with their branches forming a rectangular goalpost.

‘Better hurry up, then!’ she said cheerily, as Amara too mounted her broom.

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This chapter was a little filler - I know, sorry. I'm quite happy with it though. Let me know what you think of it Thanks as always for commenting and keeping it alive!