Dreams Are Falling Short

“Banned,” said Angelina in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. “Banned. No Seeker and no Beaters… what on earth are we going to do?”

It did not feel as though we had won the match at all. Everywhere I looked there were disconsolate and angry faces; the team themselves were slumped around the fire, all apart from Ron, who had not been seen since the end of the match.

“It’s just so unfair,” said Alicia numbly. ‘I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?”

“No,” said Ginny miserably; she and Hermione were sitting on either side of Harry. “He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner.”

“And banned Fred when he didn’t even do anything!” I said furiously, pummeling my knee with my fist.

“It’s not my fault I did,” said Fred, with a very ugly look on his face, “I would’ve pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you hadn’t been holding me back.”

I patted him on the knee, saying, “We all would’ve beaten him up if we could’ve gotten away with it Scott free.” It wasn’t completely true, of course – I wouldn’t beat Draco up, but I was obviously going to punch him a couple of times (probably not in the face) the next time I saw him.

“I’m going to bed,” said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. “Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream… maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and find we haven’t played yet…”

She was soon followed by Alicia and Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed some time later, glowering at everyone they passed, and Ginny went not long after that. Only Harry, Hermione and I were left beside the fire.

“Have you seen Ron?” Hermione asked in a low voice.

Harry and I shook our heads – no.

“I think he’s avoiding us,” said Hermione. “Where do you think he –?”

But at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind us as the Fat Lady swung forwards and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair. When he saw us, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Where have you been?” said Hermione anxiously, springing up.

“Walking,” Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things.

“You look frozen,” I commented. “Come and sit down.”

Ron walked to the fireside and sank into the chair furthest from Harry’s, not looking at him. The stolen Snitch zoomed over our heads.

“I’m sorry,” Ron mumbled, looking at his feet.

“What for?” said Harry.

“For thinking I can play Quidditch,” said Ron. “I’m going to resign first thing tomorrow.”

“If you resign,” I said testily, “there’ll only be three plays left on the team.” And when Ron looked puzzled, Harry said, “I’ve been given a lifetime ban. So’ve Fred and George.”

“What?” Ron yelled.

Hermione told him the full story. When she had finished, Ron looked more anguished than ever.

“This is all my fault –“

“You didn’t make me punch Malfoy,’ said Harry angrily.

“- if I wasn’t so terrible at Quidditch – “

“ – it’s got nothing to do with that.”

“- it was the song that wound me up – “

“ – it would’ve wound anyone up.”

Hermione got up and walked to the window, away from the argument, watching the snow swirling down against the pane. I watched the flames flickering in the fireplace, waiting for them to sort it out.

“Look, drop it, will you!” Harry burst out. “It’s bad enough, without you blaming yourself for everything!”

Ron said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of his robes. After a while he said in a dull voice, “This is the worst I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“Join the club,” said Harry bitterly, and I nodded along slowly.

“Well,” said Hermione, her voice trembling slightly. “I can think of one thing that might cheer you three up.”

“Oh yeah?” I said skeptically.

“Yeah,” said Hermione, turning away from the pitch-black, snow-flecked windows, a broad smile spread across her face. “Hagrid’s back.”

-

Hermione ploughed her way back to Hagrid’s cabin through two feet of snow on Sunday morning. Harry and Ron wanted to go with her, but their mountain of homework had reached an alarming height again, so they remained grudgingly in the common room, with me by their sides to help them, and trying to ignore the gleeful shouts drifting up from the grounds outside, where students were enjoying themselves skating on the frozen lake, tobogganing and, worst of all, bewitching snowballs to zoom up to Gryffindor Tower and rap hard on the windows.

“Oi!” I bellowed, finally losing patience and sticking my head out of the window, “There’s a Prefect up here, and if one more snowball hits this window – OUCH!”

I withdrew my head sharply, my face covered in snow.

“It’s Fred and George,” I said bitterly, slamming the windows behind me. “I’m going to go see what those gits are up to.”

I pulled the large jumper that I had been wearing earlier over my head and made my way over to the portrait hole. I made my way down to the front door, saying hi to people as I passed them and receiving glares from one or two Slytherin first years, who I stared down and shut up pretty quickly.

The weather outside was cold and snappy, and I was thankful for my jersey as I made my way over to the twins, who were building a snowman in the grounds.

“Oi, you two!” I yelled as I got closer.

They both turned around and let out a yell of joy, jumping up out of the snow in joy.

“You came down!” George celebrated.

“Well, yes,” I said. “But only because Ron and Harry have to study and you guys were being a pain.”

We were quiet for a moment, before laughing.

“You’re welcome,” Fred said, “We knew you didn’t want to be stuck up there with them.”

“Thank you,” I said sweetly. “Now, let’s go ice skating!”

I ran towards the frozen lake, the twins hot on my heels, all of us laughing as we went.