Quidditch Mania

Chapter 15: Quidditch Mania

Summer 1994

Age 16

Annie was sandwiched between her two best friends on the seat of her truck. Her truck, which she'd bought with the money she had earned working over the past year and a half. It was a beat-up old Peugeot farm truck, nearly as old as they were, but the previous owner had recently installed a re-built engine in it, and it ran like a dream. Considering it was the only operational vehicle within fifty miles that she could afford, her purchase decision had been practically made for her.

"This is the surprise?" the twins had exclaimed in delight when they saw it for the first time that summer.

"Brilliant!" George had cried excitedly, peering into the cab at the dials on the dashboard.

"Matches your personality perfectly," Fred had joked, probing at a rusty spot with his wand. When she turned her back, the little spot disappeared.

But it bothered her that she never got to drive it with the twins, though. They always insisted on one of them being behind the wheel whenever they went somewhere together. She supposed it had something to do with the now astonishing length of their legs, at least compared to hers.

Regardless, she spent most of today's ride barking frustrated instructions at George like a backseat driver. "Watch out! Slow down!"

It was a tribute to how excited the twins were that neither of them responded much to her nagging, nor engaged in their usual tag-team torture of her while she sat between them in a perfect trap. Instead, they spent their time raving about today's upcoming match, which they were now on their way to see. It was almost as if she wasn't even there at all.

Will they ever outgrow this Quidditch mania? she wondered.

"Here we are, then," George explained as he suddenly pulled off the road in the middle of nowhere.

"Let's park over near the trees. If anybody notices the truck, it'll look like we're off hiking or something," Fred suggested.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Annie demanded.

There was a broad, nearly empty expanse surrounding them. The open desertedness seemed to stretch for miles in all directions. Directly in front of her, there appeared to be what looked like an old, abandoned rubbish dump with hazard signs scattered all about, encircled with barbed wire fencing. An eerie mist was swirling all around it.

"What do you see?" Fred looked at her with amused interest.

She looked at him with suspicious disbelief. "A dump," she answered. As if it isn't perfectly obvious.

"It could do with a bit of fresh paint, sure, but I wouldn't call it a dump," George laughed.

"Paint what? That manky old refrigerator? What are you on about?" she demanded.

"So you don't see the pitch in front of you, right now?" George asked with another laugh.

"If that's a Quidditch pitch, then I have no interest at all in going any further," Annie snapped impatiently. "You lot go on ahead, I'll wait here. If you're lucky, that is...."

She was beginning to feel like they were pulling her leg about the whole Quidditch match thing. And she wanted to get out of this place – the sooner the better. It was starting to look more than a little bit dodgy. The mist looked as if it could swallow her whole and no one would be the wiser.

"Come on, we'll prove it," Fred said as he tugged her out of the truck behind him.

They began to walk toward the dump. But something was holding Annie back, nagging at her brain. She could feel it becoming more insistent as her friends walked on, getting further ahead of her. What was it...?

"Oh!" she exclaimed when it finally occurred to her. How could I have been so careless? she scolded herself.

The twins spun around to look at her with startled curiosity.

"I'm so sorry! I have to get back! I'm going to be late, I know it, but maybe if I hurry I can still get her there...." She began walking quickly backward to the truck.

"Annie, what are you..." George began to ask.

"Gran has a doctor's appointment," she said, cutting him off. "Today! In less than an hour. I just remembered...."

An amused smile was spreading across Fred's face. "Annie, we've been planning this for two weeks. There's no appointment. Your day is free, remember?"

Now that he mentioned it, she realized he was right. That's odd, not to mention stupid of me, she puzzled. She was beginning to feel rather annoyed with the entire situation, her smugly smiling friends included.

"What's going on here? I feel strange...."

Fred laughed and took her elbow in his hand, guiding her along. "It's the repelling charm. Keeps Muggles away so they don't see anything they're not supposed to. Which is why you're dressed up in Ginny's robes, so nobody here realizes that's exactly what you are, git."

Annie glared at him with narrowed eyes. She did not like to be laughed at. Especially by annoyingly smart-mouthed jerks.

George took two steps toward them and took her other arm. "This may be more of a challenge than we expected, Fred," he teased, helping to pull her forward. "She's pretty thick, even for a Muggle."

They both began dragging her toward the barbed wire fence. Her every step was reluctant, no matter what she tried to tell her legs. She just couldn't convince her body that this was where she wanted to be.

"People are starting to stare," Fred warned her in a whisper.

"People? What people?" she demanded. They were completely alone out here in the middle of this godforsaken moor! This rubbish has gone on just about long enough....

Suddenly, her feet refused to take another step forward. Annie stood directly in front of the fence, involuntarily frozen. She looked at George in panic. "I can't move!" she hissed.

George looked first at her, then at his brother with alarm. "What now?"

Fred bent swiftly and threw Annie bodily over his shoulder. "I'm not missing this match," he grunted in agitation, then began walking forward again, passing right through the fence!

To Annie's astonishment, the fence shimmered like a reflection in still water being disturbed, then disappeared altogether behind them. The unnerving silence of the empty moor was suddenly replaced by loud cheers and raucous music, then a booming voice called out like an announcer at a sporting event, rattling off the names of the players for each team. A gigantic, well-groomed pitch now stood where heaps of decaying garbage had been an instant ago.

Using her arms as braces, she propped herself up against Fred's back and looked around in wonder as she was carried further into the stadium by him. An enormous sunken oval field was in front of them, surrounded by rickety-looking wooden stands. Six large hoops, three at each end, soared into the sky. Colorful pennants and banners snapped in the breeze.

Fred set her back on her feet when they reached the stairs leading up into the stands where their seats were. "I'm not lugging your arse up all these steps, that's for damn sure," he warned her.

"It's okay, Fred. Whatever the trouble was before, I think it's gone now," she said softly as she gazed around her.

This was magic on a much grander scale than she had ever imagined. A vast stadium had been completely invisible and inaudible to her only moments ago. And it was filled with hundreds of wizards and witches in the craziest getups she had ever seen. It was like the wildest costume party ever. Her mouth was agape and smiling slightly.

Fred led the way up the steps to their seats, which were pretty far up. George climbed behind her, keeping a hand at her back just in case she needed any further prodding. As they sat down, Annie was still gobsmacked by the scene surrounding her, and the boys chuckled, pleased with her awed reaction.

A few minutes later, Fred offered to head back down for some food. Annie stood and began to dig into her pockets, pulling out some money.

"Put that away! Your money's no good here," Fred laughed as he rose and walked away.

George pushed her hand back into her pocket. "He means it. Nobody accepts those Muggle notes here. You'll draw attention to us," he warned.

"Oh, sorry. I'll pay you back later, I suppose," she said.

"Forget it. This is our treat, mate!" He beamed at her, patting her shoulder as he spoke.

Annie was instantly struck by the bright warmth of his smile and his pleasant, friendly face. And those shining brown eyes, framed with the longest, palest eyelashes she had ever seen on a boy. The familiar juvenile plumpness of his cheeks had now been replaced by the more maturely masculine features of a strong nose and jaw. She was utterly astonished to suddenly realize that George had grown really quite... handsome... over the past year.

How had she missed that before today?

This day is full of odd discoveries, she mused. Is the same true of Fred? She made a mental note to check when he returned.

George pointed at something on the field, commanding her attention while he began to explain to her once more the rules of the game. The noise level made it necessary for him to lean quite close to her ear to be heard.

The rules were difficult enough to remember without the novel distraction of his face being so close to hers. She hoped it wasn't too obvious that her eyes kept being drawn to his. She nodded every once in a while, praying her act of paying attention was convincing.

It was a small relief to her to see Fred making his way back up the stairs, carrying a large pile of food and several bottles. Yes, she realized, Fred's matured over the past year as well – handsome in a similar way. He smiled at her, too, but it was just a fraction less brightly, not quite as warmly. At any rate, she did not have the same internal reaction to his as she had to George's.

Which is odder still, she thought. She had always considered the twins as completely separate individuals with distinct personalities – that was nothing new. But she had also always felt an equal amount of affection for each of them. Is that starting to change? she wondered, aghast at the thought.... That wouldn't be fair! She made a conscious decision on the spot to carefully examine her treatment of them, with the intent of ruthlessly weeding out any outward signs of favoritism.

The match began, and the noise level increased. Despite the fact that she hadn't quite grasped all the strategy behind the game, she found the play to be exciting due to the frenetic pace of the flyers. The broom riders zipped about with robes fluttering in trails behind them.

George leaned in close to her again, directing her focus to a player that was currently hovering for a moment at their end of the field. The man was holding a bat and scanning the field. "That's my position – Beater. Fred's as well," he explained into her ear.

She could feel his breath on her neck as he spoke. Goose bumps erupted on her flesh as a result. She was equal parts mortified and fascinated by them. She forced herself to watch the action as the flyer suddenly sped off, a barely visible blur.

"Nice shot!" cried Fred. He leaned back toward her and spoke into her ear. "The Beaters' job is to knock the Bludgers, those big flying balls, at the other team's players."

Nothing. Annie felt no physical response to the identical action by Fred. What the blazes is happening to me?

She leaned toward Fred, rising on tiptoe to shout a question at him. "Does anybody ever get hurt by the Bludgers?" She knew the answer from personal experience, but thought it sounded like a logical follow-up.

Fred had tilted his head toward her to hear better, but kept his eyes on the game as she spoke. He turned to her briefly with a smile and a nod, giving her a thumbs-up gesture. "If we're lucky!" he cried, then immediately turned back to the action on the pitch.

She smiled and shook her head ruefully at him. Dear, funny Fred: master of mayhem and disaster. She could imagine that he would truly feel in his element, bashing bewitched Bludgers at opponents while speeding through midair on a broom, risking his own neck. The game was likely heaven on earth, to him.

She turned to George and tapped him gently on the shoulder to get his attention. He bent his ear down to her, absentmindedly putting his arm around her back, resting his hand on her hip to steady them both. Electricity shot through her body as every nerve fiber focused its attention on that spot on her hip now externally warmed by his hand, almost causing her to forget her question.

"Do the Bludgers... ever come into the stands?" she stammered, slightly worried as she recalled the force of impact from a few years ago. She absentmindedly rubbed the phantom ache in her right forearm with the memory of it.

George looked directly at her and smiled reassuringly as he shook his head. Her heart skipped a beat.

"You're safe," he added. "They have extra referees around to protect spectators at matches like this." He turned and cheered with the crowd – the boys' favorite team had scored another goal.

She spent the next half an hour forcing herself to follow the match. It didn't help that George's leg regularly brushed against hers, sending flickers of delight rippling through her body. What in the bloody hell is wrong with me? she thought with mounting anxiety, finally giving up on the game. Why was she reacting in such an annoying – yet physically thrilling, she had to concede – manner to George, but not Fred? What exactly did it all mean?

Was it something to do with all the magic swirling about her? Had it addled her Muggle brain somehow? Would it go away after they left this place?

Could anything go back to normal after this?

She took a long drink, draining her bottle. "What's this stuff called again?" she asked no one in particular.

Fred hadn't heard her; his attention was entirely absorbed by the match.

George turned toward her – apparently he had. "Butterbeer. Like it?" he asked, flashing another one of those thought-scrambling smiles at her.

She nodded. Yes, she liked it. Far more than was good for her, she reckoned.