Through the Hoop

Angelina was woken by a screech from her living room. She dragged herself out of bed and stumbled to the door; she’d been plagued by gut-wrenching nightmares that sent her flailing up out of sleep the entire night, and no longer felt the slightest bit sorry for what she’d done. When she reached the living room she saw a strange owl perched alongside Archimedes, who was looking indignant. Angelina removed the parchment offered her and sent the owl on its way. Not recognizing the handwriting on the letter, she cracked it open and found a short, terse note:

We have to talk. Be in my office today at 9:00am sharp.
- Mr. Dorkins

Angelina was surprised by the tone of the message; Mr. Dorkins sounded furious. Of course, if Jenkins had been found then it might be a team meeting…

Suddenly Angelina went cold. What if Jenkins hadn’t been found? What if he was still laying on the ground in his flat, maybe even bleeding to death? It took all of Angelina’s self-restraint not to Apparate there and check; instead she sent Archimedes out to get a copy of the Daily Prophet. When he returned Angelina was relieved to see a small article at the bottom of the front page about Jenkins; apparently he’d managed to reach his wand and Apparated to St. Mungo’s. Angelina smiled grimly when she read that he’d splinched himself rather badly in the process.

Well, there’s no doubt Dorkins knows about this, so I can guess what he wants to talk about. Mr. Dorkins wasn’t stupid, Angelina knew. Glancing at her clock, she saw it was already 8:30. Cursing, she went to dig up some clean robes.

When Angelina arrived in Chudleigh by Portkey, she immediately saw a crowd of reporters clustered in front of the gates; the security wizard had been joined by two of his colleagues to keep them out. Not wanting to deal with the reporters in her unnerved state, Angelina ducked into the store she’d visited the day before. She peered out the window, wondering how to get into the stadium without being seen.

“Hey! It’s you!” Angelina spun around in alarm; it was the same clerk who’d sold her the Prophet the day before, and he was beaming hugely. “You were in here yesterday! Why didn’t you say you were the new Chaser, huh?”

“Uh…I didn’t know how you’d react,” Angelina said cautiously.

The man’s face sobered. “Oh, yeah…I could’ve been one of the bastards who booed you at the game.” He smiled when Angelina looked surprised. “I was there, I got season tickets! Bloody hell, you flew great! Sure shut up the wankers in the press, eh?”

“Did I?” Angelina asked.

“What, you didn’t see?” the man asked in shock. He pulled a copy of the Prophet off of his pile and flipped to the sporting section, which Angelina hadn’t even thought to do. “Check it out,” he said with a grin, handing her the paper.

Angelina only skimmed the article, but it seemed to be almost solely about her. She caught a few phrases like great potential and flew like a veteran. There was even a picture of her making a swooping goal on the right hoop as the Kenmare Keeper fell for her feint and dove to cover the left hoop. Angelina had to admit it made her look damned good. “Hey, miss,” the clerk said, “I don’t suppose you’d sign that for me?”

Angelina looked up with an enormous grin. Her first autograph! “Sure,” she said. “And call me Angelina. Got a quill?” The man excitedly buzzed around her while she signed the copy of the Prophet for him. “Listen, do you know if there’s another way into the stadium? I don’t want to go through that,” she said, pointing at the crowd of reporters.

The clerk suggested she go around to the service gate at the back. When she got there the guards immediately recognized her and accepted her explanation for not using the main entrance without question. Well that’s a far sight better than yesterday, she thought with satisfaction.

She rapped on Mr. Dorkins’ door at five to nine. “Come,” a voice called, and taking a deep breath, Angelina stepped inside.

Mr. Dorkin looked up from his conversation with another man, and his eyes narrowed a bit. “Johnson,” he said in acknowledgement. “Terry, have you got everything?”

“Yeah, I think so,” the other man said.

“Then I’ll see you at three,” Mr. Dorkin said, standing up. The other man stood as well, and they shook hands. The man turned to leave and when he saw Angelina he grinned. “Nice game yesterday!”

Angelina returned the grin. “Thanks.”

“Close the door when you leave,” Mr. Dorkin said pointedly. The man took the hint and hurriedly exited. “Sit down, Johnson,” he continued, reseating himself. Angelina perched in the chair in front of his desk warily. “There was an incident last night,” he said without preamble.

“I saw the article in the Prophet,” Angelina answered, keeping her voice steady.

“I would imagine so.” Mr. Dorkin’s expression made it clear he knew something was up. “You disappeared without talking to the press last night; they really wanted to get their first interview with you.”

“I didn’t want to talk to them,” Angelina replied. It was true, of course, even if it wasn’t why she’d disappeared. “I’m not interested in being their flavor story after the way they treated me two days ago.”

“Apparently not. In fact, you were apparently so ready to avoid them that Pattinson told me Jenkins went into your new locker room with Elwood and they came out a few minutes later, but you never did. He wondered what was keeping you so he poked his head in and you were gone.”

“Is that right?” Angelina said, fighting to keep her temper in check. Covering for not helping me, I guess. “Did Pattinson explain why no one, not even him, came to help me when I yelled?”

Mr. Dorkins’ eyebrows shot up. “Actually, that was probably due to the Silencing Charm I put up; I thought you’d want a bit of privacy.” Angelina’s jaw dropped. Silencing Charm? “Why did you yell, Johnson?”

“Jenkins and I had a disagreement.”

“Disagreement?” Mr. Dorkins repeated incredulously. His eyes traveled to Angelina’s hand, which was still a bit scratched from her punishing the bathtub and Jenkins. “A disagreement you Apparated away from?”

“It’s been taken care of,” Angelina stated flatly.

“I KNOW IT HAS!” Dorkins roared suddenly, standing up and leaning forward on his knuckles. “You argued with the Captain and beat him so badly he ended up in hospital! That’s not how things are done!”

“So suspend me,” Angelina shot out, her temper breaking. She was so enraged she almost couldn’t see straight. “Toss me off the team for paying back the bastard who tried to rape me!”

Dorkins gaped at her. “Rape you?”

“What the bloody hell did you think happened, a pat on the arse?” Angelina bellowed.

Mr. Dorkins collapsed back into his chair. “I don’t want to suspend you, Johnson, I never did,” he mumbled, clearly shaken by what he’d just heard. “I want you to press charges against Jenkins! If he actually-”

“And where would that leave us?” Angelina said sharply. “Jenkins gets thrown in prison, and there goes our season. If we want to win, we need him.”

“This is a little more important than the Cannons’ season!” Mr. Dorkins snapped.

“Glad to hear you say that,” Angelina replied with a wry look. “Jenkins is done. He’s not stupid enough to try anything else. Let it go.”

Mr. Dorkins shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re saying that.”

“Mr. Dorkins, this won’t be the only time I’ll have to deal with something like this. You were right – I didn’t really understand what I was getting myself into. Now I do. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider quitting last night; it scares the crap out of me to think I might have to deal with this all year, and maybe beyond. But I’m still ready to play on Wednesday.”

“Assuming we don’t have to forfeit,” Mr. Dorkins muttered, but Angelina could tell he was impressed despite himself. “Our reserve Beaters aren’t ready to play Puddlemere.”

“Forget that. Jenkins will be back on the pitch for Wednesday’s game – so I’ve heard,” she added when Mr. Dorkins raised an eyebrow.

“Well, if you’re certain…” He still sounded unsure.

“I am.”

Mr. Dorkins sighed. “Well, at least the press didn’t connect your absence and the attack on Jenkins. They seem to think it was fans of Kenmare getting him back for the game.” He looked a bit puzzled. “Jenkins doesn’t contradict that, either. He told the Aurors he didn’t get a good look at his attacker.”

“Think a big macho guy like him would admit to being beaten half to death by- uh, someone half his size?”

Mr. Dorkins hid a startled laugh with a fake bout of coughing. “Well, before Saturday I’ll get someone in to put up a Charm on your locker that only allows women in. Oh, have you got Anti-Apparition Charms on your flat?”

“Uh…no…”

“I’m going to send someone back to your flat with you right now to put them up. You’re public now, and fans can get a bit…overzealous. Not to mention reporters. Speaking of which, how did you deal with the mob at the gate?”

“I went in the back way,” Angelina admitted sheepishly.

“You’re going to have to face them sooner or later,” Mr. Dorkins admonished, although he was grinning slightly. “At least have a word with them on Saturday, even if it’s just to say how thrilled you are to be playing pro, etcetera.”

“All right,” Angelina agreed reluctantly. “Thanks for understanding, and not ordering me to talk to them.”

“If you don’t soon, I’ll have to,” Mr. Dorkins said firmly. “Now, your flat’s in London?” Angelina nodded. “We prefer if you have a flat in Chudleigh, but we can get a Portkey for you from your flat to the Portkey Room here in the stadium, at least until you find a new place so you don’t have to keep using the commercial ones.”

“Maybe I’ll put off finding a new place so I can avoid the press longer.”

“The Portkey can be revoked, you know.”

Angelina made a big show of being put-upon. “Oh sure, give the rookie a hard time,” she said, pretending to be sour.

“Keep playing like you did yesterday,” Mr. Dorkins said, his smile finally reaching his eyes, “and I’m not the only one who’ll forget you’re a rookie. Which reminds me…” He reached into a desk drawer and came up with a bank slip, which he handed to Angelina. “Officially in your contract you get the first part of your paycheck after your first game in uniform. The gold was transferred to your Gringott’s vault this morning.”

Angelina looked at the slip and swallowed. She’d known logically what she would be getting paid, she’d seen it on the contract. But seeing proof that it was in her vault… “What’s company policy on kissing your manager?”

“In the past it’s never been a matter of concern,” Mr. Dorkins said innocently.

*****

Upon returning home, Angelina found that the press, at least, had already located her flat. There were a number of them staked out outside the building. Angelina and the wizard Mr. Dorkins had sent with her (to help her with anti-Apparition Charms) Apparated into the hallway outside her flat; there was a note attached to her door from the landlord:

Ms. Johnson, I understand you’re a big-shot Quidditch star now. Those reporters were mobbed outside your flat; I had to kick them out and ban them from the building, they were blocking the hall. If your presence here proves to be a hassle for the other tenants I’ll have to ask you to leave.
-Mrs. Brubaker

The wizard raised his eyebrows. “Landlord’s not a Quidditch fan, then?”

Angelina shrugged. Guess I better find a flat in Chudleigh quick after all.