i | xxxv. can't take my eyes off of you

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The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Lyra and Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time they'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan.

"You too, Lyra," Dean whispered to the little girl, knowing her Quidditch position hadn't been disclosed. "Eat," he pushed.

"Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry after he saw Lyra give a shiver at the morbid thought.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Jordan, Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for their two Quidditch-playing friends, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said 'Potter for President,' and Dean, who was good at drawing. had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

On another sheet that Seamus had brought from home for the school year, they painted 'Lyra the Lovely Little Lion,' and Dean had drawn another Gryffindor lion. However, this lion supported a heart-shaped mane and had little hearts painted around it, which were falling around the lion like snow would, thanks to Hermione.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Lyra was pacing the floor after changing into her scarlet Gryffindor Quidditch robes with the rest of the team. Harry walked over, grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her in her tracks, and was about to talk to her when Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Lyra and Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years, We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Lyra followed George out of the locker room as Harry followed Fred as the two younger players were hoping their knees wouldn't give out as they walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in hand.

"Now, I want a nice, clean game — from all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Lyra noticed from her spot on the field that she was seemingly speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth year.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lyra saw her fathers, Lily, and James sitting in the stands near Dean and her friends, who held banners flashing Potter for President and Lyra the Lovely Little Lion over the crowd. Her heart swelled and she felt as though a weight had been lifted slightly from her shoulders. She could do this.

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