Ron watched in horror as the Quaffle plummeted towards the ground again with George close behind. It was the final match of the most involved two-on-two Quidditch series ever held at the Burrow and Harry chose now to get all twitchy? Everything was being taken into account here: how many goals, how many saves, how many times the Quaffle changed hands, and how long it took for one team to score a hundred points. This would determine once and for all who the best Chaser was, who was the best Keeper, and which two people played best with each other and in what positions. The only stat not in consideration was how often you look off in the wrong directionand drop the ball, and that's the stat Harry seemed determined to dominate.
George easily recovered from Harry's foul up, pulled out of the dive, and with a burst of speed came straight at him. Harry had been acting strange all week, suddenly running off whenever that strange owl showed up and being holed up in Bill's old room for hours on end. Usually he managed to come to his senses long enough for a good game of Quidditch, lunch, maybe another game of Quidditch, some chess or exploding snap, dinner, and maybe a game of chess before disappearing again though.
He pushed those thoughts aside; he was not going to be distracted now. With Harry's playing in the tank every scrap of his Keeper skills were being called up just to keep them in the game and he was not going to blow it now.
Left - right - left - right - George zigged and zagged as he closed on the goal until he finally began his throw. With a sudden burst of speed Ron shot to his right, snagging the Quaffle before it could cross the crossed branches that marked the goal. That was the fifth time he saved them after Harry's bungling and the game wasn't even over yet!
"Oi! Harry, get your head in the game!" he shouted as he scanned the clearing for his teammate. He checked down on the ground, then up in the air. Harry wasn't anywhere to be seen. Off to one side Fred and George already had their heads together comparing notes on the game.
"What happened?" Ron asked as he joined them.
"Game called on account of Harry," George explained, totaling up the figures.
"Take a look," Fred said, shaking his head and pointing to the receding form of Harry bounding back to the Burrow so quickly he could've been flying - if his trusty Nimbus hadn't been dropped and lying forgotten in the dirt.
"How can he live with himself, honestly?" Ron asked, shaking the dirt out of the Nimbus's tail as they headed back home.
"It's an absolute disgrace treating a Nimbus like that," Fred said. "What should we do, draw and quarter him?"
"Boil him in oil?" George offered.
"I think the broom needs a new owner," Ron declared, "at least until its current one learns to show it proper respect."
Fred and George made identical sounds of pain, their hands clutched to their hearts as if wounded.
"We're not even that harsh, little brother," George scolded him.
"Maybe if it were you, but not Harry," Fred explained.
Before they were even a quarter of the way home the distant Harry gave off a loud cheer, sending the white speck that was Hedwig flying back up to the open window of Bill's old room.
"Look at him," Ron said. "He's gone completely mental. It's like he's been crowned Emperor of the Moon or something."
They put the brooms back in their shed as George gave out the bad news.
"Turns out I'm incredibly mediocre," he said checking the final scores.
"Ah, don't let it get you down, Georgie. I could have told you that years ago," Fred consoled his twin. "Everyone knows I'm the heart, soul, and life of us. It only makes sense I'd be the better player too," he smiled.
"You're the better Chaser," George corrected his twin. "I'm the better Keeper. But this one," he gestured to Ron, "he came out of nowhere today to clobber my score. If I didn't know any better I'd swear those two planned it."
"What's that?" Ron asked, nosing his way over to check out the scores himself.
He was ahead. He might never make a passable Chaser, but in terms of Saves he was way ahead. It was with a bouncing mood he led them back into the Burrow. Ginny sat morosely at the kitchen table reading the copy of Quidditch Through the Ages he had left out while their mum tried to covertly check and make sure her daughter wasn't doing anything she shouldn't be while starting to get ready for dinner.
"Harry back up in his room again?" Fred asked as he slumped into a chair, tired from hours spent defending a goal which had never once been assaulted.
"Oh, yes," their mother replied. "Probably won't see him until supper. He's as quiet as a house-elf, isn't he? I could do with ten more like him. Raising them would be a breeze," their mother beamed. Harry's quiet manner and voracious appetite had definitely gotten on her good side in the short time he'd been here. Ron doubted she'd hear a word against him.
"He spends a lot of time in that room," Ron said. "How often can he really write to Gringotts?"
"What makes you think it's a bank he's writing to?" Fred asked with a grin.
"Oh, George, surely not. He's awfully young for that," their mother waved the thought away.
"I dunno, mum," George said, coming to his twin's defense. "There're a lot of girls who'd like to catch a young Seeker's eye. One of them might've done it."
Ginny didn't look like she quite knew what to do with this information.
"He has been in that room a lot since he got here," Fred said to press his point.
"Not any more than Percy and he certainly doesn't have-," their mother stopped and seemed to review everything that'd happened since she'd picked them up from the Hogwarts Express almost two months ago.
With a clang the dishes were left to lie in the sink as the middle aged housewife with a mission made her way upstairs.
"Percy?" their mother called. "Percy, what have you been doing up here all by yourself?"
Ron got a sinking feeling in his stomach, his joy from earlier completely deflated. He knew for a fact there was at least one girl who wanted to catch Harry's eye, and probably one girl he'd let himself be caught by if she so much as said a word. The fact they were the same person didn't please him in the slightest.
Following his mother's example, he got up to find out what exactly was going on.
.....
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