Through the Hoop

Angelina slept in the next day. She woke at about ten, and when she recalled the events of the previous day her nerves fired up immediately. She’d be suiting up for her first game of professional Quidditch today!

Archimedes was already back, and Angelina smiled when she hefted the letter. The handwriting was precise and meticulous, exactly as she’d always known Hermione’s script to be. The letter also obviously contained more than a single sheet of parchment.

Plopping down on a stool at her kitchen counter, Angelina tore open the letter and munched on an apple as she read:

Dear Angelina,

Congratulations! I knew you were a terrific Quidditch player, I’m so thrilled you’ve been taken on.

I could hardly believe what you said, though, about there being no women in professional Quidditch; how utterly ridiculous! I understand your wanting to learn more about the history, so I went straight to the library after reading your letter. Unfortunately, the Hogwarts library is woefully under-stocked on information regarding the history of Quidditch. I spoke with Madam Pince about it, and she said the library was strictly for studying. I said I wanted to study Quidditch, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

I wasn’t sure what to do, so I went and asked Harry and Ron. I hope you don’t mind – I didn’t know if you wanted to keep your new position a secret, but I didn’t know where else to go, and Harry and Ron are both so serious about Quidditch. I did swear them both to secrecy, though. You should have seen Ron when I told him, he acted so absurdly – he kept going on about how brilliant it was he knew a Chaser for the Cannons personally.

Harry wasn’t much help – he tried, but since he grew up with muggles he never had the chance to read up on Quidditch much. To my surprise, though, Ron immediately began rattling off a string of books and magazines he thought you might want to include in your research! Now I guess I know why he can’t seem to retain anything in classes, he’s using up all his memory on Quidditch facts.

I’ve included a list of Ron’s recommendations. I’m sorry I can’t help you more, but being at Hogwarts, I don’t have any way to access the material. I hope this helps some, at least.

Good luck with your first game today. Harry and Ron are already planning on sneaking away from Hogwarts to see you play some time; honestly, you’d think they’d know by now that nothing good ever comes from their wild ideas.

Hermione

Angelina’s eyebrows raised as she looked down the list of books. It was also extremely neat, and long, and Ron had apparently given them to Hermione in order of significance. “Thanks, Ron,” Angelina whispered. Tossing her apple core in the bin, she quickly dressed and Apparated to Diagon Alley to do some shopping.

*****

Angelina appeared in a designated Portkey area across the street from the Cannons’ home stadium. She was a bit early, but it couldn’t hurt to make a good impression. I better get a flat here in Chudleigh, she thought as she steadied herself. I can’t Portkey back to London every night, and it’s a hell of a distance to Apparate. Besides, we’ll be on the road a lot anyway.

She’d dumped half a dozen books in her flat before Portkeying over. She couldn’t afford all of the books on the list – nor could she carry them all – so she’d chosen the few that seemed most likely to be relevant. As she was about to head across the street, a vendor standing outside a shop hailed her; “Copy of the Daily Prophet, miss? Quidditch Weekly? Cannons scorecard for tonight’s game?”

Angelina grinned at the thought of keeping score for a game she was playing in on a card. She realized that there might already be a mention of her in the Prophet, since they’d had a reporter there the day before, so she bought a copy. “Do you have back issues of Quidditch Weekly?”

“Sure do, inside,” the man said, jerking his thumb at the shop. Angelina smiled her thanks and slipped into the shop, where a clerk quickly helped her find some of the magazines from Ron’s list. She arranged to have them sent over to her flat, and then headed over to the stadium. She flipped to the sporting section of the Prophet on her way over, and found a snippet saying the Cannons had hired her, but giving absolutely no details. She frowned at the apparent lack of interest the Prophet’s reporter had shown.

She was further annoyed when the security guard at the stadium didn’t believe she was the new Chaser. He was extremely condescending, and made her wait, fuming, while he got a picture sent down. When the picture arrived, however, he glanced at it and his face went satisfyingly white. He tried to stammer out an apology, but it faltered and died under the heat of Angelina’s glare.

So Angelina was already in quite a bad mood when she arrived at the locker room (having had to ask directions) and walked right in as a voice bellowed “…but she’s a damn woman!”

Morgana’s bloody arse, Angelina thought in frustration. It just had to be Jenkins, didn’t it?

The muscular, broad-shouldered man who was shouting in Mr. Dorkins’ face was none other than Joey Jenkins, Beater and Captain for the Cannons. And he clearly was one of the more vocal oppositions to Angelina’s joining the team. Just what I need, she thought sourly. The Captain of the team’s going to have it in for me from the start. Lovely. Glancing around, Angelina saw the rest of the team preparing for the game; some of them were pretending to ignore the tantrum their captain was throwing, but Angelina could tell that all of them were listening closely.

“You needed a Chaser to replace Chaz,” Mr. Dorkins said calmly. “Ms. Johnson was by far the best of all those who tried out.”

“Then it must have been a pretty pathetic lot,” Jenkins growled. “When Chaz hears about this he’s going to be humiliated!”

“As much as I respect Chaz Lanier for everything he gave this team, he is no longer a player for the Cannons,” Mr. Dorkins replied firmly. “My interests are solely for making us the best team possible, and Ms. Johnson was by far the best choice. If adding her to the team doesn’t win us the division, nothing will.”

Angelina was relieved to see Mr. Dorkins was holding up his end of the deal to back her as much as possible. She saw Jenkins was gearing up for another round of shouting and decided she’d heard enough of it. “Oh, please stop, Mr. Dorkins sir,” she said in an exaggerated sing-song voice. “You’re gonna make this poor dainty girl blush!”

Everyone in the room turned to look at her. Angelina met the eyes of every one in turn, making it clear that she wasn’t intimidated by their rather unwelcome behavior. “There isn’t a dainty hair on your head, Ms. Johnson,” Mr. Dorkins said with a wry twist of his lips.

Angelina shrugged. “Never has been, never will be.”

“Good, because dainty wouldn’t last long in here,” Mr. Dorkins pointed out.

Angelina turned her head this way and that, and wrinkled her nose. “The smell alone would kill it, I think.”

Mr. Dorkins chuckled, which partially broke the spell. Everyone went back to getting ready, although they were constantly shooting looks at Angelina. Jenkins, who was already suited up, never stopped glaring at her. “You’re going to be broken in half out there, you smarmy little bi-”

“Jenkins!” Mr. Dorkins snapped. “That is your teammate, and I don’t ever want to hear you maligning her again! Your bias stays in the locker room or I’ll suspend you myself! Understand?” Jenkins didn’t reply, but he didn’t finish his insult either. “I’m choosing to take that as a yes,” Mr. Dorkins said sharply. “Now leave Ms. Johnson alone, she needs to suit up so she can take the field with you.”

“What?” Jenkins shouted, rounding on Mr. Dorkins. “She’s never even practiced with us!”

“The reserve Chaser you’ve been using, Landow, almost fell off his broom during warm-up laps on Wednesday, if I recall correctly,” Mr. Dorkins answered primly. “I’ll not have you benching the better player. Ms. Johnson signed as a starter, and a starter is what she’ll be.”

Jenkins grabbed his broom from where it was resting against the wall, and stormed away down the hall without a backward glance. A few of the other players scrambled to grab the rest of their gear and followed right behind him. Angelina headed across the room to where Mr. Dorkins was, but before she got halfway one of the other players stepped in front of her; it was Will Pattinson, the senior Chaser on the team. Angelina waited, not sure what he’d do; after a long, tense moment, Pattinson stuck his hand out. “Welcome to the Cannons, Johnson.”

Angelina took his hand with a guarded smile. “Thanks. I know we don’t have long before the game starts, but what formations do you like to use against Kenmare?”

Pattinson’s eyebrows shot up. Apparently he hadn’t expected Angelina to know formations, or possibly even strategy; perhaps he hadn’t even thought she’d know that they were playing the Kenmare Kestrels that day. “Tentel’s Wedge,” he said after a second of hesitation. “Their right Chaser this year drags a bit when he has to turn, so if we pull him sharp towards center it leaves a clear path for our left – which I guess means you. I hope you ride something fast.”

“A Nimbus 2004,” Angelina answered. “What’s he on?”

“The newest Comet, you should outstrip him pretty handily.” Pattinson realized he was still shaking Angelina’s hand, and let go quickly. “See you out there,” he said. He moved to pass Angelina, but leaned in at the last second. “Watch out for Jenkins,” he whispered. “And I don’t just mean on the pitch.” Then he headed off down the hall into the stadium.

Mr. Dorkins walked up to Angelina. “What did Pattinson want?”

“He just gave me a bit of advice,” Angelina answered vaguely. “Don’t come down on him, he was pretty civil.”

“Good. I’m sorry about Jenkins, Ms. Johnson. I’m afraid I can’t force him to be civil as well.”

“Don’t worry about it; it’s my problem now,” Angelina said. “But there is something you can do for me, Mr. Dorkins.”

“What’s that?”

“Stop calling me Ms. Johnson. You call the other players Jenkins or Pattinson, but you always add the Ms. with me. I think they already noticed I’m a woman, you don’t need to point it out any more.”

Mr. Dorkins opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I didn’t realize I was doing that,” he admitted, a bit chagrined. “Very well…Johnson it is.”