Quaffle

[ - ]
Printer ePub eBook
Table of Contents | - Text Size +
St. Mungos was boring. The Healers didn't know what had happened, so every day was lying around being bored while they did tests and poked and prodded until Katie felt like screaming. She wanted to go back to school, to sleep in her own bed, to have awful early morning Quidditch practices and tease Potter about being younger than her and trying to boss her around. Anything would be better than this.

Pathetically, the highlight of the day had become the bringing of the post. For two reasons, really. One, the Mediwizard who usually brought in the post was bloody gorgeous with these pale eyes and dark hair and the cutest smile. It didn't even matter that he'd sigh over Potter before leering at her because, well, she had little else to get her through the long days now. Two, the post meant letters from Leanne and her family and occasionally other classmates.

Katie had never liked to write letters or even really to read much, but it was like a little glimpse at the life she'd left behind whenever they wrote, so she looked forward to it every day except Sunday, when they didn't drop post by the room. It was two weeks after The Incident, as the Healers called it, complete with capital letter awareness, when she received a box in the post. It was like Christmas, only without wrapping paper and ribbons.

After she opened the box, she was surprised to find a quaffle. It wasn't just any quaffle, though. It was a Gryffindor practice quaffle. She'd recognize it anywhere after all the years she'd spent practicing with it. It was bloody brilliant, and she felt so stupid for crying over a quaffle, but it was Hogwarts and Quidditch and something waiting back at school for her. She was so focused on the quaffle that she almost tossed away the slip of paper without realizing it.

She unfolded the letter and had her second surprise of the day. Finnigan had sent it. She couldn't remember exchanging a dozen words with him during six years, but he'd always seemed like a good bloke. The note was short and sweet, just eight words 'Get well. You have games to win, Bell', but it was possibly the sweetest thing she could remember reading. She put the note away and tossed the box on the floor before she started tossing the quaffle up and catching it. She wasn't so bored now.

End