"There is no evil in sorcery. Only in the hearts of men."
- Merlin
Almost everyone in the wizard community know who the Weasley Family is; an old line of purebloods with red hair, freckles and enough children to start their own Quidditch team. But S...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Usually, Seraphina was excited or nervous before a Quidditch match. But when she woke up the morning after the incident with Rosier, the last thing she wanted to do was play Quidditch. Not when it meant seeing Rosier. Not when her head was pounding. Not when her shoulder hurt every time she lifted her arm.
The wisest thing to do would be to simply skip the game – yet she couldn't bring herself to do that. She couldn't bring herself to give Rosier the chance to even think that he had beaten her. That he had won.
That morning, she put on her green and silver Quidditch uniform, wincing at the pain in her arm - that really grew dull after a while like she had gotten used to it. Raising her arms for too long felt like unnecessary, self-inflicted pain, so instead of braiding her hair, Sera pulled it up into a high ponytail.
When she descended the stairs down to the common area, Regulus was waiting for her, dressed in his own robes. The concern in his eyes almost made her want to run backup and hide in her dormitory. "Are you sure you should play today?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Seraphina asked, walking past him.
Regulus quickly caught up with her, "You look – tired."
"You will just have to catch the Snitch quickly then," Seraphina told him, lips pursed and her eyes downcast as they walked. Over the years, nervosity had been replaced by excitement when it came to playing Quidditch. As the Captain, she usually challenged all her confidence during game days but now she couldn't muster enough willpower to not look like she hadn't slept at all that night.
. • ⚯͛ • .
"Ravenclaw needs to win against Slytherin today if we want to stand a chance of winning the Cup this year," James speculated as the others tried to eat breakfast. Then he bitterly added, "But seeing as Ravenclaw lost against Hufflepuff, I don't see that happening."
"I never took you for a quitter, Prongs," Remus mused, not even looking up from his book.
"I'm not a quitter," James insisted grumpily. "Gryffindor's chance of winning the Quidditch Cup is relying on another team's ability to play."
Noticing how Sirius wasn't even paying attention to their conversation, James punched his best mate's shoulder. Wincing, Sirius was knocked out of his own thoughts; for the first time since he sat down, his eyes turned away from the Slytherin table to look at his friends, "What?" he asked with annoyance, rubbing his shoulder. "This is child abuse."
"You are seventeen," James deadpanned. "You are not a child anymore."
"Then it's just abuse," Sirius shot back. "Have any of you seen Sephy today?"
