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╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗.  [ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀsʟᴇʏ
ǫᴜɪᴅᴅɪᴛᴄʜ ʙᴏᴏᴛᴄᴀᴍᴘ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
- Scottish Highlands
( September 2nd, 1994. )

𝑻he sun was just beginning to burn through the mist clinging to the Hogwarts grounds as Cassie made her way to the Quidditch pitch. It was the morning of September 2nd, and while most of the castle was bustling with students hurrying to their classes, she was heading into what felt like a completely different kind of test.

She spotted Fred and George waiting for her by the broom shed, their identical grins unmistakable even from a distance. Fred twirled a Beater's bat lazily in one hand, while George leaned casually against the shed, clearly enjoying her approach.

"Well, well," Fred said, his voice carrying easily across the dewy field as she reached them. "Look who actually showed up."

"Thought you might chicken out," George added, his grin widening. "Smart thing to do, really."

Cassie rolled her eyes, pulling her hair into a quick ponytail. "Oh, shut up. I'm here, aren't I? Now, are you going to teach me or just stand there making jokes all morning?"

Fred whistled low. "She's feisty today," he said, glancing at George. "This might actually be fun."

George pushed off the shed and handed her a broomstick. "Alright, let's see what we're working with. You remember how to mount a broom, yeah?"

Cassie grabbed the broom, clutching it tightly. "Of course I remember," she said, though her voice wavered slightly.

Fred smirked. "Go on, then. Let's see you take off."

Cassie hesitated for a moment before positioning the broom next her leg. She muttered the familiar command, "Up," and the broom jerked into her hand. With a deep breath, she swung her leg over and pushed off the ground.

For a heart-stopping second, she wobbled dangerously, gripping the broomstick like her life depended on it. But to her relief, she steadied herself a few feet off the ground. "See?" she called, her voice brimming with forced confidence. "Easy."

Fred and George exchanged amused glances before kicking off their own brooms, circling her with practiced ease.

"Not bad," Fred said. "For a first-year."

"Very impressive," George agreed, though his grin betrayed his teasing tone. "But you're going to need a lot more than that if you want to beat Oliver."

Cassie scowled. "Then stop with the commentary and start teaching me."

Fred nodded, tapping his bat against his broom. "Alright, first lesson: balance. If you're going to fly like a real Quidditch player, you need to stop gripping that broomstick like it's about to buck you off."

George nodded in agreement. "Yeah, loosen up, Cass. Relax your grip, trust the broom. Otherwise, you're just going to end up fighting it the whole time."

Cassie hesitated, her knuckles white against the wood of the broomstick. "Relax, right. Easy for you two to say—you were practically born on these things."

Fred grinned. "Maybe, but even we had to learn at some point. Now, stop whining and show us what you've got."

Cassie narrowed her eyes, loosening her grip slightly and urging the broom forward. It wasn't graceful—far from it—but she managed a slow, shaky lap around the pitch.

"Not bad!" George called, clapping his hands mockingly. "Only looked like you were going to crash twice."

Cassie shot him a glare as she returned to the center of the pitch. "Keep it up, George, and I'll aim a Bludger straight at your head."

Fred cackled. "Now there's the spirit! Alright, let's move on to the fun stuff. Time to learn how to hit things."

Cassie groaned, already regretting her decision, but she tightened her grip on the broom and nodded. "Bring it on."

As the twins set up for her next lesson, Cassie couldn't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and dread. She might not have been a natural on a broom, but she wasn't about to let that stop her—not when her pride was on the line.

Fred tossed a Bludger bat to Cassie, who caught it clumsily, the weight surprising her. She turned it over in her hands, frowning slightly.

"Feels heavier than it looks," she muttered.

"That's because it's meant to do damage," Fred replied with a grin, twirling his own bat effortlessly. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it—if you survive the first round."

"Comforting," Cassie deadpanned.

George hovered nearby, holding the crate with the Bludgers secured inside. He tapped the latch with a dramatic flair. "Alright, lesson two: hitting a moving target. The key is timing. It's all about predicting where the Bludger is going to be and getting there before it does."

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "And what if I miss?"

"You don't," Fred said simply, his grin turning wicked. "Or you'll have a Bludger coming back to knock you off your broom. So... no pressure."

Cassie shot him a glare, gripping the bat a little tighter. "Fantastic. Anything else I should know before you release the homicidal ball?"

George leaned on the crate, pretending to think. "Hmm. Don't die?"

Cassie groaned. "You two are impossible."

Fred laughed, giving her a thumbs up. "You'll be fine. Probably."

George opened the latch, and the Bludger shot out like a cannonball, rocketing into the air before curving in an unpredictable arc. Cassie's eyes widened as it hurtled toward her.

"Go on, Cass! Hit it!" Fred yelled, hovering nearby, clearly enjoying her panic.

Cassie gritted her teeth, raising the bat awkwardly. She swung just as the Bludger got close, but her timing was off, and it zipped past her, narrowly missing her shoulder. She spun her broom to follow it, wobbling precariously in the air.

"Almost had it!" George called, clearly lying.

"Try not to fall off!" Fred added, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Cassie shot them both a glare, her heart pounding as the Bludger looped back around, barreling straight toward her again. This time, she steadied herself, adjusting her grip on the bat. When it was close enough, she swung with everything she had.

The bat connected with a satisfying crack, and the Bludger veered off in a different direction. Cassie gasped, barely able to believe she'd hit it.

Fred and George cheered loudly, Fred clapping his hands. "Now that's what I'm talking about! Not bad, Cass, not bad at all!"

"Alright, you're officially not hopeless," George added, grinning. "Still not good enough to beat Oliver, though."

Cassie glared at him, a spark of determination lighting in her eyes. "Give me another one."

Fred's grin widened. "Now you're talking. Let's see if you can do it twice."

For the next half hour, the twins put Cassie through her paces, sending Bludgers at her from every angle. She wasn't graceful, and she missed more often than she connected, but with each swing, she got a little better. A little faster.

By the time they finally called it quits, Cassie was sweaty, out of breath, and sore in places she didn't know could be sore—but she was also smiling.

"Not bad," Fred said as they landed back on the pitch, clapping her on the back. "You might just survive Saturday after all."

George nodded in agreement, though his grin was still teasing. "Don't get cocky, though. Oliver's going to give you hell."

Cassie smirked, handing the bat back to Fred. "Let him. He won't know what hit him."

The twins exchanged a look, their grins widening.

"She's got the fire," Fred said.

"And maybe the tiniest bit of skill," George added.

Cassie rolled her eyes. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Fred laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they started walking back toward the castle. "Don't let it go to your head, Cass. We've still got a lot of work to do."

Cassie sighed, already dreading their next session.

𝑪assie flopped onto her bed in the dormitory, her arms stretched out dramatically as she stared up at the canopy. Her muscles ached from the impromptu Quidditch boot camp, and she wasn't sure if she was more tired or exhilarated. Across the room, Judeth, Mel, and Tessa were lounging on their own beds, eyeing her with varying degrees of amusement.

Tessa leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "Cass, I love you," she began, her tone light but blunt, "but you do know you don't actually have a chance, right?"

Cassie turned her head to glare half-heartedly at her. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tess."

"I'm just saying!" Tessa laughed. "Oliver Wood? The guy's practically a professional already. You've, what, flown a broom twice before this week? It's not exactly a fair fight."

Cassie pushed herself up onto her elbows, smirking. "I don't need to win," she said with a shrug. "I just need to bruise his ego. And trust me, I'll consider that a victory."

Mel snorted from her corner of the room. "That's a pretty low bar, don't you think? What's the plan? Trip him up and hope he falls off his broom?"

"Maybe," Cassie said, grinning mischievously. "Or, you know, actually hit the Bludger better than him. It's not impossible."

Judeth, who had been quietly flipping through a book, finally looked up with a skeptical eyebrow raised. "Cass, I love your determination, but even with Fred and George helping you, you're going up against someone who probably dreams about Quidditch plays at night. Are you sure this isn't just some elaborate way to flirt with him?"

Cassie let out an exaggerated groan, flopping back onto her bed. "Merlin's beard, not you too, Judy. It's not about flirting! This is about principle. He said I don't have the nerves for it. I can't just let that slide."

"Sure, principle," Mel said, rolling her eyes. "Definitely not because you want to wipe that stupid smirk off his stupidly handsome face."

"Exactly!" Cassie said, pointing at her. Then she frowned. "Wait, no. Not the handsome part."

The girls burst into laughter, and Tessa leaned back on her bed, shaking her head. "Well, regardless, this is going to be entertaining. You do realize the whole school's going to hear about this by Saturday, right?"

"Let them," Cassie said with a shrug. "If I'm going to crash and burn, I'm doing it with style."

Judeth smirked. "And if you somehow pull this off?"

"Then Oliver Wood's reign of smugness is officially over," Cassie declared, throwing her arms in the air. "And I'll remind him of it every chance I get."

Mel laughed. "Alright, then. You've got my support. But you better make it memorable, Cass."

"Oh, don't worry," Cassie said, her grin turning mischievous. "Win or lose, he's not going to forget this match."

𝑭red and George burst into their shared dorm room, their faces flushed from the cool air of the Quidditch pitch and the lingering adrenaline of their practice session. Fred tossed his broom onto the nearest bed, while George flopped into a chair with a dramatic sigh.

Oliver was lounging on his bed, a Quidditch magazine open in front of him, though he didn't appear to be reading it. He raised an eyebrow at the twins as they came in, his expression equal parts curious and amused.

"Busy morning, was it?" Oliver drawled, his smirk unmistakable.

Fred smirked right back, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, you know, just out there preparing for the most anticipated match of the season."

Oliver snorted, sitting up and tossing the magazine aside. "You can't possibly mean that little stunt Cassie's pulling. She's what? Been on a broom twice? Maybe three times if she's lucky?"

George grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Ah, but you underestimate our dear Cassie, mate. She's got more fire than most of the actual players I've seen."

Lee, who was sitting at the shared desk, glanced up from the letter he was writing, clearly intrigued. "Fire, maybe," he said with a shrug. "But skill? That's a different story. You two aren't seriously trying to turn her into a decent player, are you?"

Fred feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. "Lee, where's your faith? We're excellent teachers."

"Brilliant teachers," George added.

Oliver rolled his eyes, leaning back against the headboard of his bed. "Sure, you are. But teaching her how to hit a Bludger doesn't mean she's going to hit me. Let alone win."

Fred's grin turned wicked. "You seem awfully confident for someone who's never played against her."

"I don't need to play against her to know how this ends," Oliver replied, crossing his arms. "She's got no experience, no stamina, and no chance. I'll give her credit for guts, though. She's got more of that than most."

Lee chuckled, setting down his quill. "She's got something else, too—pride. She's not doing this to win, Oliver. She's doing it to bruise your ego."

Oliver laughed, shaking his head. "Good luck with that. My ego's doing just fine, thanks."

Fred smirked, exchanging a glance with George. "We'll see about that," he said, plopping down on the bed beside Oliver. "You're underestimating her, mate. Big mistake."

George nodded solemnly. "She's not playing to win. She's playing to make you squirm."

Oliver tilted his head, eyeing them both suspiciously. "You two seem awfully invested in this. What's in it for you?"

Fred grinned, leaning back on his elbows. "Oh, nothing much. Just the sheer entertainment value of watching you get knocked down a peg."

"And maybe the tiniest chance of Cassie pulling off the impossible," George added, his smirk matching Fred's.

Oliver shook his head, though the grin tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. "You lot are ridiculous."

Lee shrugged, picking up his quill again. "Maybe, but we're not wrong. You're not going to live this down if she manages to so much as scratch you out there."

Oliver rolled his eyes, but a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—passed across his face. "I'll give her credit for trying," he said after a moment. "But don't get your hopes up. This match is going to be over before it even starts."

Fred and George exchanged a look, their identical grins widening.

"Oh, we wouldn't be so sure about that," Fred said, his voice full of mischief.

"Not with Cassie," George added. "She's got a way of surprising people."

Oliver leaned back on his bed, shaking his head but unable to suppress a chuckle. "Well, if nothing else, this is going to be entertaining."

Lee glanced up, smirking. "It already is."