Scratches (Fred Weasley)

(23) Gryffindor VS Ravenclaw

All was well, the Ravenclaw team believed that. The last time Davies had checked, Harry's firebolt was still in Madame Hooch's office, in a cabinet and locked away. They were going to win this; Roger had this airy feel of confidence in him as he dismissed his team from planning game strategies the day before. But that wasn't the case during Friday afternoon, as McGonagall had been circling the whole castle in search for Harry. It could have only meant one thing.

He gathered his team in a bustle, their mouths gaping and their confidence dropping as they watched Harry carry his firebolt out of McGonagall's office, a wide, ecstatic grin on his face. Roger gulped, and the dream of winning shrunk smaller and smaller in his eyes.

They sat huddled at the Ravenclaw common room, partially bitter because the Gryffindors might be dancing around Harry's firebolt by now like an ethnic tribe. Cho remained positive though, but Roger didn't look too good. Florence was solemn, leaning against Jeremy who looked half as bad as Roger did. Grant, and Jason looked as if their house cat just died, and Duncan just rubbed his temple in exasperation.

"Come on, you guys." Cho said, frowning at her teammate's negativity, "Pick yourself up from the floor, Roger. We're not sulking today. Not a day before a big game." she chastised, her voice raising to a few octaves. "We could still do this. It isn't always just about the snitch, remember? We have three amazing chasers...we could score more goals."

"Yeah, but that isn't happening with Oliver Wood, Cho." said Jeremy, "That boy's probably itching to win since he's in his final year."

"We appreciate you trying to lift our spirits, Cho. But we really need this right now. We need to sulk." Florence said, running a hand through her hair. "I mean, we were so confident that Harry Potter wouldn't get his broom back, and he did. And what's worse is he got it back at the last minute..."

"Well I think all of you are being babies." Cho declared boldly, folding her arms over her chest as her teammates looked up to meet her determined glare. "It's just a bloody broom, you guys. An  international standard broom doesn't change the fact that we've practiced, hard. We're prepared..."

"...What if we loose, then?" asked Duncan gloomily," Cho pursed her lips, "Then we lose. What matters is that we gave it our all and we actually tried, rather than to think that we're dead meat because of Potter's damn firebolt."

Cho was the one in the group who had almost nothing to say every meeting or during practices. She would comply, but this time she had surprised her teammates, being the one who encouraged them not to fret. After Cho's motivational outburst, everyone felt a little better. It didn't matter to Cho that she wasn't able to completely remove their anxiety, but atleast she was able to deduce it.

Breakfast the next day didn't make it all too better, Florence and the rest of the team sitting in their respective places at the Ravenclaw table. Florence had remembered what Cho had said the previous day, which she kept on repeating again and again, to assure herself that she's going to do fine.

But Cho's words weren't enough to handle the situation as Harry Potter walked in with his almighty Firebolt broom, and suddenly everyone in the hall was ogling at it. Davies just groaned, banging his forehead on the surface of the table, pulling at his hair whenever he heard the word 'firebolt'. Florence's face paled, devoid of color as she watched others swarm around, Oliver Wood holding a smug expression.

"I think I might pass out," she mumbled, loosing her apetite altogether. "Relax, Flo. You guys will do fine. Win or loose, our house will be proud of you guys, nonetheless." said Alexander, patting her friend on the shoulder for comfort.