Through the Hoop

Angelina appeared outside Arturo’s, a fancy Italian restaurant. It was a muggle place, so she’d dressed in slacks and a nice shirt; she still felt a bit underdressed when she walked in and looked around. Looks like a place that charges seven Galleons for a glass of water, she thought wryly. “May I help you, madam?” the maitre d asked.

“Yes, I’m having lunch with Oliver Wood?” Angelina replied tentatively.

“Ah, Ms. Johnson? Right this way.”

Angelina followed the maitre d, and was surprised when he held out a chair for her at an empty table. “Oliver’s not here yet?”

“I’m afraid not. You are a few minutes early; would you care for a drink while you wait?”

Fifty minutes later Angelina was prepared to hunt down Oliver and shove the conceited bastard’s broom up his arse. Bad enough he’d publicly scorned her, but now standing her up? And at an insanely expensive restaurant, no less! Vowing that she’d take the cost of her drinks and appetizer out of Oliver’s hide, Angelina paid (fuming at the falsely sympathetic look the maitre d gave her) and Apparated back to her flat.

She spent the next two hours aimlessly moving around her flat. She threw a bag together to take on the team’s road trip, and then tossed out half of it, a trick she’d learned from her father about preparing for trips. She sat down and tried to read some of the books Ron had recommended to her, but reading about Quidditch just made her think of Oliver, which made her furious. She tried to write a reply to Madam Hooch, but found her mood made her letter too sarcastic and biting, and she eventually crumpled up the parchment and tossed it in the fireplace.

Four o’clock didn’t come soon enough for Angelina, and she Apparated to the Cannons’ stadium fifteen minutes early when she was too restless to wait any longer. Without a second of hesitation she went in the back way, knowing that one condescending comment from a reporter and she’d irrevocably damage her chances of being accepted – and probably irrevocably damage the reporter as well.

Not exactly certain where the team departed from, Angelina headed to Mr. Dorkins’ office. He was just stepping out of his office when she arrived, and turned when she hailed him. “Johnson! You’re a bit early, but that’s fine; come on, we leave from the Portkey Room.”

“We’re Portkeying?” Angelina asked in surprise as she followed Mr. Dorkins to the stairs. “Doesn’t that make us all a bit muddled for the game?”

“There’s a potion that deals with most of the symptoms of Portkey Lag,” Mr. Dorkins told her. “We always have it with us on road trips…” he turned in confusion when he realized Angelina wasn’t keeping up, and his eyebrows shot up when he noticed she was lugging her bag. “Johnson, what the hell is that?”

“Er…my things for the trip,” Angelina answered, dropping the bag at her feet.

“For Merlin’s sake, why didn’t you call for one of the trainers? We have people to take things like that! What if you pulled a muscle right before the game?”

“I think I can handle carrying a single bag,” Angelina replied a bit hotly.

“I’ve no doubt you can handle it, but we don’t take that sort of chance here,” Mr. Dorkins said shortly, drawing his wand. “You could have shrunk it, at least!”

Angelina only replied with a scowl, angry at herself for not thinking of that. Mr. Dorkins did something complicated with his wand, and a golden light shaped roughly like a bird came out of the tip, and sped off down the hall. Within one minute, a huge man almost Hagrid’s size came trudging toward them. “Mr. Dorkins,” the man rumbled respectfully. “Your message said something about one’a the players tryin’ to carry their own stuff?”

“Johnson here thought she’d do your job for you, Morris,” Mr. Dorkins said.

Morris looked at Angelina, who had to fight the urge to shrink back from his sheer bulk. “Leave this stuff to us, Miss,” he said, reaching for Angelina’s bag.

“Hold it!” Angelina drew her wand and cast a Binding Spell on her bag, so that only she could open it. “There.”

Morris gave her a hurt look. “You dint need to do that, Miss. I’d’ve come down on anyone messin’ with your things like a ton of bricks.”

“Johnson, there’s no one in the world more trustworthy than Morris,” Mr. Dorkins said.

“Er…for my own peace of mind,” Angelina said quickly. “No offense.”

“Sure.” Morris hefted Angelina’s bag – in one hand – turned away and plodded back down the hall.

“Is he human?” Angelina asked as she and Mr. Dorkins started walking again.

Mr. Dorkins laughed. “Certainly. He just comes from a family that, well, seems to breed for size.” He grinned. “You should meet his mother some time.” Angelina shuddered.

The team was mostly gathered when Angelina and Mr. Dorkins arrived; the other two Chasers, Pattinson and Kendall, were there, as were the Seeker Gudgeon and the Keeper Basil. So were the seven reserve players. Angelina saw one – Landow, she was pretty sure – give her a foul look; not really surprising, since he’d been starting at Left Chaser until she was taken on. There were five other men as well – one was the team Healer Aloysius Wentworth, but Angelina didn’t recognize the others. “Where are Jenkins and Elwood?” Mr. Dorkins asked.

“Not here yet, sir,” one of the men said in response.

“Well go find them,” Mr. Dorkins said irritably, and the man slipped quickly out. “I want to get out of here before they decide to shut down the Portkeys.”

Angelina blinked. “Why would they do that?”

“Didn’t you hear?” It was Pattinson, who’d been leaning against the wall; he looked a bit jumpy. “There was a Death Eater attack outside of Bristol a few hours ago. Just appeared in full view of several wizards and witches and scores of muggles and started randomly tossing off Curses; they Apparated away before the Aurors could get them.”

Angelina felt a horrible chill. It had only been a few months since the Ministry had finally acknowledged what she, and everyone else who knew Harry Potter well enough to know he wasn’t a glory-hound, had already known – that Voldemort had returned. But despite the Ministry’s public actions, the Death Eaters had been growing more bold. And with the Dementors on the loose, Angelina was happier than ever that Harry had pushed her and the D.A. so hard to learn to produce Patroni. “Did- did they kill anyone?” she asked.

Pattinson nodded; he looked a bit sick. “Two wizards, and a bunch of muggles that got in the way. Twelve, I think.”

“Forget about that shit,” Jenkins snapped as he strode in, with Elwood and the other man in tow. “We’re playing in three hours!”

“Thank you for that bulletin, Jenkins,” Mr. Dorkins said sharply. “You’re the late one. Everyone get your Portkeys, they activate in one minute!”

“Come on, the starting Chasers always take the same Portkey,” Patinson said, and led Angelina over to where Kendall was standing with one of the unnamed men. Kendall looked like he had something nasty to say to Angelina, but Mr. Dorkins joined them so he settled for a sneer when he thought no one was looking. Angelina sighed inwardly. You’d think with Death Eaters killing random people in the streets in broad daylight, people could get they bloody priorities sorted out, she thought before the Portkey activated.

*****


The game against the Tutshill Tornados was short and sweet. Angelina had barely found time to fly up and down the pitch a dozen times before Gudgeon caught the Snitch. The final score was 170-30; the total game time was 11 minutes.

It was after the game that Angelina discovered who those extra four men were; they were security for the team. As they exited the stadium so they could get outside the Anti-Apparition zone fans from the other team booed them, tossing some garbage and one or two nasty hexes. Angelina would have said he fans were just supporting their team, if most of the garbage hadn’t been aimed at her.

Mr. Dorkins had been right – the Ministry had put a temporary freeze on all Portkeys, so it turned out to be good that the team was all staying together in hotels the next few nights, since travel back to Chudleigh or London wasn’t an option (the team would be running practices the next two days, and then given a day off to rest before their next game that night up in Scotland against the Wigtown Wanderers). Angelina appeared in front of the hotel right next to Jenkins. She instinctively moved back; Jenkins snorted and turned away.

Mr. Dorkins gave them their room assignments; there was some angry grumbling when the others found out Angelina would get a room to herself, when they all had to share, and Angelina got some nasty looks. Well what the hell do they expect? she thought, incensed, as Mr. Dorkins handed out keys. I’m sure as hell not bunking down with them, I might be murdered in my sleep!

As everyone headed to their rooms, Angelina grabbed Mr. Dorkins’ arm. “Any chance of someone putting protective spells on my room? I know a few, but probably not enough.”

“It’s already been done, Johnson,” Mr. Dorkins assured her. “Overzealous fans of opposing teams taught us to guard against retribution long ago.”

“It’s not the fans I’m worried about right now,” Angelina muttered.

“What?” Mr. Dorkins stepped closer and dropped his voice. “I thought you believed Jenkins wouldn’t try anything else!” he hissed.

“Not Jenkins; but Elwood, and Kendall, maybe. And Landow, definitely.”

“Not Landow, he’s a-”

“You didn’t see the look he gave me,” Angelina interrupted. “It’s bad enough I’m a woman, but he was starting until I came along; now he’s back on the bench.”

“Oh, Landow won’t do anything-”

“Thirty Galleons says he tries to unseat me from my broom during tomorrow’s practice.”

Jenkins stared hard at Angelina for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll take that bet,” he said with a slight smile. “But if it’ll make you feel better, we can put up some more protection.”

After her room had been warded to her satisfaction, Angelina bade the others good night and shut the door behind her. The room was clean and neat, if a bit Spartan, but the bed was firm, just the way Angelina liked it. She collapsed on the mattress and buried her face in the sheets with a sigh. My first road trip, and I’m practically dead after the first day. And I’ve got my first actual practice with the team tomorrow; it won’t affect our chances at the Championship, so the others are going to see just how far they can push me.

Angelina was still lying on her bed, toying around with ideas of how to deal with the next day, when there was a knock on the door. Puzzled and wary, she pushed herself up and walked over to the door; pulling out her wand, she pointed it at the door and murmured “Transpere Duru.” The wooden door shimmered, and then Angelina could see through it; and she almost dropped her wand when she saw Oliver Wood standing outside her door.