x. weasley is our king

CHAPTER TEN:
WEASLEY IS OUR KING

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AFTER MONTHS OF ANTICIPATION, it was time for serpent and lion to go head-to-head on the Quidditch pitch. D.A meetings were put on hold as pressure from the upcoming match backed the Gryffindor team into a corner. Freya felt like she barely saw Fred and George as Angelina had them out training for hours each day, not that she minded with the Slytherin team taking jabs from every angle. If anything, it brought her closer to Angelina. They'd be rivals themselves in a matter of weeks, but both girls longed to watch the Slytherin team fall, their silence having turned into scathing confidence that put everyone on edge. Something had changed in the weeks leading up to D-Day, and it gave Freya a bad feeling. Every smirk had her second guessing herself, wondering just what they had up their sleeve.

When the morning of the match dawned bright and cold, Freya was one of the last to arrive at the Great Hall. It took Solana fifteen minutes to drag her out of bed, causing Solana to grumble the whole way to breakfast, Freya stumbling tiredly after her. They went straight to where Fred and George sat with Lee, their Quidditch robes blending in with the house's support for red and gold.

"Morning, boys," Solana excitedly greeted as she looped an arm around Fred's shoulders and kissed his cheek. "You still ready to kick some snake ass?"

"Hell yeah," Fred cheered, his confidence mirrored by George, who's eyes were already on Freya as he grinned. "Nice sweater, babe."

Solana smirked and looked down at the maroon jumper she'd stolen from his wardrobe the day before. Freya had laughed when she returned to the Common Room swamped in the oversized sweatshirt, Fred's Quidditch number and last name printed on the back. But she regretted it now as she stood out in her yellow and black, earning furtive glances by passer-by Gryffindors. She should've invested in a scarf or something, even if she would only wear it once or twice a year.

"McKinnon, what are you wearing?" Fred suddenly sniffed as he eyed her Hufflepuff jumper. "Don't tell me you're supporting Slytherin."

Freya rolled her eyes. "As if. But unlike Sol, I don't have a Gryffindor boyfriend's cupboard to raid, so I'm supporting you in spirit."

"Not good enough."

Again, Freya rolled her eyes, amused laughter bubbling past her lips as Fred dramatically shook his head. "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Let me change the colours of your jumper," he insisted, pulling away from Solana to hold his wand out to her.

"No way!" Freya immediately denied, shoving behind Solana so that Fred couldn't get to her.

After a moment of cat and mouse with a snickering Solana Thomas caught in the middle, a bag unzipping could be heard and George pulled out a jumper identical to Fred's, the only difference being the number on the back that matched George's own robes. Freya raised an eyebrow as he bashfully held it out to her.

"Here," he said, stubbornly ignoring Fred and Lee's matching smirks as the tips of his ears burned red. "You can wear this if you want."

Fighting off a wide-brimmed smile, Freya didn't hesitate to accept it. "Thanks, Georgie," she said, quickly shrugging off her Hufflepuff jumper to tug the Gryffindor one over her shirt. It was decently bigger than her thin frame, the sleeves hanging over her hands, but it was comfortable and it smelled like George in a way Freya couldn't quite describe. Like broom polish combined with sandalwood and cinnamon, a hint of cologne in the mix. She rather liked it. "There. You happy now, Fred?"

"Oh, very," he nodded victoriously.

Eventually, Freya retreated over to the Hufflepuff table. She hugged each of the twins in good luck, leaving George and Lee to deal with the sappy couple as Solana murmured assurances against Fred's lips. Chuckling to herself, Freya sat down in the first empty section of the bench she could find, which unfortunately happened to be across from Zacharias Smith. He glowered at George's sweater with a visible pout on his lips. After a moment of trying to bite his tongue, he turned away from his friends to address her.

"You know it's not a good look for the captain to be representing another team, right?" he said, to which Freya just blinked at him. "If I was the captain--"

"Well, it's a good thing you're not, isn't it?" she scoffed, smirking as his face flushed red. "Keep your opinions to yourself, Smith. Today isn't about us."

He didn't get to say anything else as his friends tugged him away and Solana sat down with a warning glare in his direction. The two girls quickly finished up their breakfast, hurrying out to find a good spot in the stands to wait for the game to begin.

"What do you think they're up to?" Solana asked Freya as a group of giggling Slytherin girls lead by Pansy Parkinson rushed past them, a glint of silver pinned to each of their chests that had Freya's eyes narrowing.

"I don't know," she sighed. "But I don't have a good feeling."

The Slytherin team was the first on the field. They stood in a line, all wearing the same expressions of anticipation, like they were waiting for a reaction to something. After another minute or two of waiting, the Gryffindors came out of their own change-room, lining up across from their Slytherin counterparts as Madam Hooch came to address them. From her spot in the stands, Freya couldn't hear what was said, but after what she assumed were the usual warnings and a pointed look at Montague, she stepped back and allowed him and Angelina to shake hands.

"Mount your booms!" the stands faintly heard before a whistle was blown and fourteen red and green dots shot into the air.

The stands immediately erupted into chaos. Freya was one of the many on her feet, leaning over the railing to watch the Gryffindor chasers place the quaffle back and forth in confident movements. They'd come prepared, and were fully intending to keep the ball in their court.

"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the quaffle," Lee's voice echoed through the stadium. "What a player that girl is. I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me--"

"Jordan!" McGonagall could be heard shouting, prompting a laugh from the Gryffindors in particular. Freya and Solana exchanged a smirk, though Freya's eyes soon drifted back to the game, not wanting to miss a thing.

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest -- and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's --" Lee cut himself off with a sympathetic wince. "Ouch! She's been hit from behind by a bludger from Crabbe... Montague catches the quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and -- nice bludger there from George Weasley!"

Freya clapped as the red-headed boy slammed the metal ball into the side of Montague's head, prompting him to pause and drop the quaffle right into Katie's waiting hands. A cheer erupted from the red and gold section of the stand, a sound that easily outmatched the Slytherin's annoyed grumbles.

"Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away! She dodges Warrington, avoids a bludger -- close call, Alicia -- and the crowd are loving this! Just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

Freya frowned, finally looking away as a wave of chanting voices erupted. She wondered if the Gryffindor team had planned something, but it soon became clear from their confused frowns that it had nothing to do with them. There was movement on the other side of the stadium, and Freya felt her heart slowly sink. Green and silver had united as one, their voices echoing clearly, their own personal message for Gryffindor's newest keeper.

"Weasley cannot save a thing. He cannot block a single ring. That's why Slytherin's all sing: Weasley is our Wing! Weasley was born in a bin. He always lets the quaffle in. Weasley will make sure we win. Weasley is our King!"

For a moment, Freya was stunned. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, that the Slytherins would stoop to a whole new level of cruelty just to mess with Ron's confidence. She could already see him faltering, his broom hovering between the goal posts like he wasn't sure what to do.

"Those silver things," Solana murmured, aghast.

"They must've been badges."

The entire stadium was filled with Slytherin's chants, prompting Gryffindor to return fire in an attempt to drown them out. Lee was now shouting into his microphone, voice strained with fury, "And Alicia passes back to Angelina! Come on now, Angelina... looks like she's got just the keeper to beat! She shoots, she -- oh."

Slytherin hissed with delight as their keeper saved the goal. Freya and Solana found themselves joining the Gryffindors with their screams, alongside several other Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Freya even saw Zacharias making some noise. What the Slytherins were doing was uncalled for, and beyond any reasonable attempt to intimidate the other team. Once again, the school was split in two.

"And it's Warrington with the quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of bludger range with just the keeper ahead--" The song repeated over and over. Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring... "So it's the first test for the new Gryffindor keeper, Weasley, brother of beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team... Come on, Ron!"

Freya and Solana had both leaned forward in their seats, waiting to see Ron's response. Normally, Solana would've tuned out or even dozed off, but everyone was buzzing in anger and wanting to rattle the Slytherin's little tune, something that unfortunately didn't happen as the quaffle shot through the hoop with ease.

"Slytherin score," Lee sighed, his energy drained as the Slytherins once again screamed 'Weasley is our King' at the top of their lungs. He quickly shook the disappointment off, though, to scream back with just as much fierceness, something McGonagall normally would've scolded him for had the poor sportsmanship not been so obvious. The Slytherins didn't even try to hide it. "And Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch!" Something changed, though, and in the blink of an eye, Warrington was tearing back to Ron. "And it's Warrington again, who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet -- come on now, Angela, you can take him -- oh, turns out you can't, but nice bludger from Fred Weasley -- I mean, George Weasley... oh, who cares! It was one of them. Now Warrington drops the quaffle and Katie Bell... drops it too?"

Freya's head sunk into her hands as she watched the entire Gryffindor team begin to lose hope. She didn't even know the score at this point, but everyone knew it was up to Harry if they had any chance of winning. Ron had lost himself to Slytherin's tactics. The whole thing was just a mess.

"And Pucey's dodged Alicia again--" Weasley cannot save a thing. "And he's heading straight for goal..." He cannot block a single ring. "Come on, stop it, Ron!"

Freya still refused to look, her shoulders sinking as the Gryffindors released a disappointed groan and the Slytherins restarted their chant. She wanted to hex every single one of them, to watch their smiles fall, but knew Snape wouldn't hesitate to put her in detention. He'd been particularly cruel in the days leading up to this moment, giving the Gryffindors extra homework and ignoring the Slytherins' blatant bullying in the halls. Freya wouldn't put it past him to have orchestrated this little tactic, too, or at the very least to have whispered it in Malfoy's ear.

"And Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague -- nice swerve, Katie -- and she throws to Johnson... Gryffindor score! It's forty-ten to Sytherin!"

Freya looked up, arms thrown in the air as she cheered for her team. She saw Fred and George high-five as they soared past each other and laughed. They might've been losing but for a second, there was a spark of hope that everything was not completely lost. The quaffle was passed back and forth for several more minutes, but Freya forced herself to watch this time as Slytherin fought tooth and nail to knock Gryffindor back down. The twins were ruthless, smacking bludgers at every weak spot they could find, and Freya knew it had to be getting to them too, their surname ridiculed in front of everyone. They needed to win this, to shove it back at Slytherin that nothing could stop them.

And win they did. Suddenly, Harry was tearing across the pitch, Malfoy hot on his heels as they chased a tiny ball of gold fluttering through the air. Freya and Solana clung to each other as they watched the two boys jolt against each other, hands outstretched, desperate. In a blink, Harry's firebolt gained the lead and he soared upwards and away from Malfoy, holding the snitch like a trophy. Everyone screamed, Weasley is our King finally stamped out.

"Fuck you and your scaly asses!" Solana screeched, hands cupped around her mouth as she glowered at the same Slytherin girls who'd passed them earlier. Freya threw her head back in a laugh, and that was when she heard it; the sickening crack of bone as a bludger collided with Harry Potter's head.

It was a good thing he was only a few feet above the ground, for the impact of the ball had pushed him right off his broom and onto the grass. The delighted shrieks morphed into jeers of fury. The game was over. Crabbe had no right to hit that bludger at Harry, but he'd done it out of anger, yet another act of pettiness.

"Come on," Solana urged as the crowd bled out onto the pitch, Harry's teammates and friends quickly surrounding him. She grabbed Freya's hand and pushed her way past a group of fourth-year Slytherins, who she paused briefly to hiss at as they attempted to cover up their badges displaying the words 'Weasley is our King' on them. "Why you little bitches--"

"Hey, Sol," Freya breathed out, catching sight of Malfoy's head of blonde hair facing off with Harry. "Save that for later. Something's happening."

Solana reluctantly tore her eyes away from the group, noticing a stony-eyed Fred and George nearby and sighing to herself. "You're lucky," she growled at the Slytherins before she wheeled around and, still gripping Freya's hand tightly, shoved her way towards her boyfriend. "Hey, Freddie--"

But she barely got the words out before Malfoy's voice rose into a shout. "We couldn't fit in useless loser either, for his father, you know..."

Freya instinctively turned to George. He was sweaty, red hair slicked back from his face in a way that Freya couldn't describe as anything but attractive. But he was furious, practically shaking as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Fred wasn't much better, even as Solana and the girls of the Gryffindor team whispered warnings at him. Malfoy wanted a fight, and they couldn't afford to give in with the teachers present.

"But you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "Spend holidays there and everything. Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by muggles, even the Weasley's hovel smells okay."

In an instant, both Freya and Harry had latched onto George's arms. He and Fred had attempted to run at the smirking boy, their hands urging to leave bruises on his skin. Freya struggled as it was with Harry there to keep George in line. He was fighting against them with everything in him, his eyes burning with undiluted rage, muscles flexing beneath her touch. As for Fred, it took Solana and the three Gryffindor chasers to hold him back. Malfoy laughed openly at the sight.

"Where the hell is Hooch?" Freya asked Harry, who just shrugged helplessly and clung tighter to George as Malfoy started talking shit again.

"Or perhaps, you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it--"

Freya gasped when suddenly, she had to support all of George's weight. There was a blur beside her as Harry shoved past and latched onto Malfoy's robes, drawing back the fist that still clutched the snitch and punching him right in the gut. Freya briefly lost hold of George as he ran after Harry, forcing her to follow him as he threw himself into the mix. Finally, she managed to get a good grip on his robes again, and with as much strength as she could muster, pushed him back enough that he couldn't land any more blows.

"Would you calm down?" she snapped as she got in front of him and shoved against his chest. His lip was bleeding and there were bruises on his knuckles, but he didn't seem hurt. "George--"

"Didn't you hear what he said, Frey?" he demanded, glowering down at her. "My parents..."

"I know, but you're going to get in trouble!"

In time with her words, Madam Hooch's whistle blew. She'd finally noticed the fight unfolding and had rushed over with several teachers behind her, one shooting the impedimenta jinx to knock Harry away from a bloodied Malfoy. For a moment, she stood there in shock, eyes glancing from the two brawling boys to George Weasley towering over a stubborn Freya McKinnon and George's brother with four girls hanging off his arms as he screamed and swore.

"What do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed. "I've never seen behaviour like it... back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office!" When Harry and George just gaped at her, she inhaled like a bull ready to charge and shouted, "Now!"

Freya stepped aside to allow George to leave, her eyes glued to his back until the second he disappeared from sight. She turned her concern to Fred then, unable to look at Malfoy's pathetic form laid across the floor or the way Hooch babied him for the fight that he started.

Well, she thought as the crowd was dispersed by the teachers. At least one thing remained consistent.

Serpent and lion were just not made to get along.

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