By the next morning, Oliver and Luke were speaking quite normally to each other. To Gordon’s relief, Luke had stopped antagonising Oliver about Quidditch, and did not complain in the slightest when Oliver suggested they practiced some more immediately after breakfast. He even managed to put two shots past Oliver today, although Gordon thought Oliver didn’t seem to try nearly so hard to save them as yesterday.
‘Oliver,’ said Luke, passing Gordon the Quaffle and pulling his broom to another stuttering halt. ‘Could we go for a walk around the village at some point today?’
‘What?’ asked Oliver, as Gordon’s shot sailed through the hoop on his right. ‘Why would you want to do that? There’s hardly any shops, and most of them are closed on Sunday anyway.’
Gordon, sensing that after four hours of Quidditch today Luke’s patience might be nearing an end, dived downwards to collect the Quaffle. When he flew back up to them, he was pleased to see that neither appeared as angry or red in the face as last night.
‘…and if we’re going to play any more Quidditch this afternoon, we could use a break,’ concluded Luke calmly. Gordon looked over to Oliver, who seemed to be thinking rather hard about this.
‘Well, I suppose if you really want to. I mean we could use a break,’ he said, repositioning himself in front of his centre hoop.
‘Well, that’s settled then!’ said Luke, stealing the Quaffle from under Gordon’s arm so quickly that Gordon nearly fell off his broom. ‘I’d like to see the main street first “ I need to get some more rat’s liver from the apothecary, and I saw a rather interesting looking bookshop...’
Luke’s voice tailed off as he flew back down to the ground. Gordon rolled his eyes and exchanged a glance with Oliver, who also seemed a little annoyed that “some point today” had actually meant right now, but shrugged and flew down after Luke.
*
When Gordon had arrived in Ottery St Catchpole the previous day, he had seen relatively little of it, since he had preferred to keep his eyes fixed on his shoes than meet the gazes of the many wizards staring bemusedly at the car. Today they were as anonymous as anyone else however, and Gordon stared excitedly around him, trying to take in as much as he could.
The main street was, as Oliver had said, not nearly as laden with shops as Diagon Alley. Unfortunately, Oliver had also been quite correct to suggest that most of them were shut, and Luke seemed devastated when the apothecary turned out to be closed, too. In fact, Gordon was sure that Luke had expected the same looks and stares they had received when they arrived here.
‘I told you nothing would be open,’ said Oliver dully, as Luke walked rather dejectedly past a shop with a large crystal cauldron in the window. ‘We might as well go back home, and get back to practicing “’
‘That shop’s open!’ said Luke, drowning out the rest of Oliver’s words and pointing to a rather old and tatty looking shop just off the main street. He began making a beeline for it, when Oliver put his arm across him and they stopped.
‘That’s Talysts,’ he said rather warily. ‘It’s meant to be an antiques shop, but no one ever goes there. Dad said it’s been under investigation from the Ministry several times. I’m not allowed in there.’
Gordon stared across the street at the shop. The layer of grime on the windows made it rather difficult to see inside, and the front of it did not appear to have been painted in a very long time. The sign hanging by the door had a crest of a serpent being carried by a bird.
‘Well, your parents aren’t here now,’ said Luke, staring excitedly over at it. ‘No one would know “’
‘No way!’ replied Oliver quickly. ‘You might not be known around here, but I am! If anyone saw me going in there, they’d be speaking to my mum in a flash. Sorry, but we’re not going near it, and that’s final.’
Gordon did not question this, and followed as Oliver walked off past the shop. Luke appeared to be a little frustrated, but also followed after them, shooting a few furtive looks back to the shop. They walked for a while without saying anything, before Gordon decided to break the silence.
‘Luke?’ he said, trying to approach the question he had been denied an answer to for the last three days in a suitable way.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yesterday your mum said she’d spoken to Professor Dumbledore…’ began Gordon, but stopped when Luke let out a rather pronounced sigh.
‘Yeah. It was about her letter,’ he said eventually, appearing to suffer every word.
‘I was going to ask you about that!’ said Oliver. ‘Mum didn’t let me see the letter. How come Dumbledore got involved? What could your mum possibly have written that needed his help?’
Luke did not answer initially, but walked over to one of the many wooden benches on the main street, and took a seat. Gordon exchanged a look with Oliver, and they both sat down too.
‘Mum didn’t let me read it,’ said Luke, running his fingers through his hair. ‘But I saw Dumbledore’s reply, and I think I can guess what happened.’
‘What do you think it said?’ asked Oliver, as Luke stared skyward and began go a little pink in the cheeks.
‘A lot of rubbish about me not being able to take care of myself that you don’t need to worry about,’ said Luke, rattling this off with such speed that Gordon felt he might have been practicing it since the letter was written. ‘And, of course, the details of how and when we would be getting here.’
‘So what’s the problem?’ asked Gordon, leaning forward as Oliver tried to suppress a grin beside him. ‘My mum always thought your mum’s letters were really funny.’
‘Yeah,’ sighed Luke. ‘Unfortunately, mum’s letters don’t appear to translate quite so well into the wizarding world.’
‘If you’re saying this is my parents' fault “’ began Oliver, but Luke waved away his protests.
‘I’m not saying that,’ said Luke firmly. ‘It just didn’t come across very well, that's all. In fact, I think most wizards would have found it a bit confusing.’
‘Ah,’ said Gordon with a smile. ‘Your mum sent a letter with loads of Muggle words in it.’
‘Oh, I don’t doubt that,’ replied Luke instantly. ‘In fact, judging from Professor Dumbledore’s reply, pages two to five contained all of my mother’s funniest motorway stories,’ he groaned, as Gordon suppressed a chuckle. ‘But I believe that the icing on the cake would have been what she ended the letter with.’
‘Go on,’ said Gordon, as Luke’s face began to go red.
‘I believe she asked Oliver’s mother if she would make sure I got myself killed while I was here.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Oliver, as Gordon fell apart laughing beside him. ‘Why on earth would she say that? I didn’t think things between you were that bad.’
For a second Gordon managed to halt his laughter, but as he met Luke’s stony-faced look he fell apart again.
‘As you might have guessed from Giz’s reaction, my mum was joking,’ said Luke, without a trace of mirth in his voice.
‘That’s not funny!’ said Oliver, now staring at Gordon and looking appalled. ‘Why would she joke about that?’
‘Well, like I said,’ began Luke, now staring skywards again. ‘The humour didn’t translate very well. Apparently your parents were just as shocked as you were, and decided to write off to Professor Dumbledore. Apparently, he found the joke a great deal more amusing than your parents did, and apparently explained it all to them.’
‘Oh,’ said Oliver, as Gordon wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. ‘So your mother doesn’t want you dead?’
‘No,’ replied Luke, still stony faced. Gordon burst into laughter again.
*
By the next morning, the dull aching in Gordon’s arms had spread through to his shoulders and into his legs. He pulled himself out of bed and nearly toppled over as he tried to stand. It felt as if someone had filled his thighs with rocks, and his arms seemed to have been inflated since he last looked. Eventually managing to steady himself, he dragged himself downstairs to the breakfast table.
As Gordon walked into the dining room, he found Oliver sitting at the table, deep in conversation with Luke. Judging by the fact that it was Oliver doing most of the talking, Gordon guessed that Luke wasn’t quite as interested in the conversation as Oliver was.
‘Ah!’ said Luke, noticing Gordon and interrupting Oliver. ‘You’re up at last!’
Gordon nodded and sat down, as Oliver began pouring him a large bowl of cornflakes. It was a rare day when Luke was up before he was, and seeing that Luke was fully dressed and had his trainers on, Gordon had a fairly good idea why this was.
‘So we’re going to Diagon Alley then?’ said Gordon, as Oliver passed him over his cornflakes.
‘You bet! We’ve got you a broom haven’t we?’ said a grinning Oliver. ‘Me and Luke have just been talking about it.’
‘Yes,’ said Luke dully. ‘It’s been fascinating.’
‘Mum says she’ll take us there in about an hour,’ continued Oliver, seemingly oblivious to Luke sarcasm. ‘Normally we’d fly, but since Dad’s not here mum says we might as well go by Floo Powder.’
Gordon exchanged a confused look with Luke. Evidently he had no more idea of what Floo powder was than Gordon did.
‘Neither of you have used Floo Powder before?’ said Oliver, seeing their expressions. ‘Well, there’s really nothing to it; you needn’t worry.’
Gordon rather felt that any new mode of wizarding transport probably deserved a healthy dose of worry, but the image of him holding the Quidditch cup and his new broom swam once more to the front of his mind, and he hurriedly began finishing his cornflakes.
*
It was nearly an hour later that Gordon found himself standing in the living room staring at Oliver, who was stood by the fireplace, and wondering what the hell was going on.
‘Right then,’ said Oliver’s mother, picking up a china box off the mantelpiece. ‘I’m going to let Oliver go first so you can see how it’s done, boys.’
Oliver gave them a quick smile and a nod, which Gordon tried to return. Oliver’s mother then took the lid off the china box and showed Gordon and Luke its contents. It seemed to be full of faintly glittering dirt.
‘This is Floo powder,’ said Oliver’s mother. ‘Now all you have to do is throw a handful in the fire, and then step into it and state your destination.’
‘Walk into the fire?’ said Gordon, treating himself to another healthy dose of worry.
‘It’s probably better if you just watch Oliver do it,’ she said, passing the china box over to him. ‘It’s really very simple.’
Oliver took a handful of the powder and cast it into the fire, which immediately sprung into huge green flames. Oliver walked into the hearth and amongst the flames as if they were not there. He gave Gordon and Luke one last look before shouting, ‘Diagon Alley!’ and disappearing.
‘You see, dears? Nothing to worry about. Now, which of you will go first?’
Gordon stepped forward without saying a word, his eyes still fixed on the spot where Oliver had stood a second ago.
‘Okay dear, now make sure you say where you’re going very clearly,’ she said, offering the box of dust to Gordon.
‘Why? What happens if you don’t?’ asked Luke. Gordon wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
‘Well, you can end up in the wrong grate,’ said Oliver’s mother plainly, pouring some powder into Gordon’s hand. ‘But if you can say “Diagon Alley” then you’ve nothing to worry about.’
Gordon looked from the glittering powder to the fire.
‘Just throw some in the fire, dear,’ said Oliver’s mother in an encouraging sort of voice. Gordon did as she said, and the flames roared higher than ever.
‘Right, now go!’
Gordon closed his eyes and stepped into the fire, though the flames seemed quite cool. He took one last deep breath before saying, as clearly as he could…
‘Di-a-gon A-lley!’
Gordon felt like something had grabbed him by the hair as he went spinning upwards. He didn’t dare open his eyes, and several times he felt his arms scrape against stone. The spinning feeling was beginning to make him feel sick, and he felt his cornflakes sloshing around in his stomach…
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, Gordon stopped spinning and once more felt ground beneath his feet. The shock caused him to stumble, and he fell forward onto a stone floor.
Gordon opened his eyes and looked around him, he seemed to have come out in some strange and absolutely filthy pub. No one seemed to have noticed Gordon yet, and Gordon wondered if he could get out before anyone saw him.
‘You all right?’ said a voice beside him.
Gordon started for a second, but turned and was delighted to see Oliver stood beside him. As Gordon stood up, he realised that the grimy pub he was in was in fact the Leaky Cauldron, the gateway he had used to reach Diagon Alley last year.
‘You okay? Looks like you took a few knocks on the way,’ said Oliver, brushing the soot off Gordon’s shoulders.
‘I’m fine,’ said Gordon. ‘I guess Luke is in trouble, though.’
‘What? Why?’
‘I just can’t believe that we’d both make it through first time,’ said Gordon honestly. ‘Something’s bound to go wrong.’
‘What makes you say that?’ said Oliver curiously, taking a seat by one of the tables by the hearth. ‘You only have to say where you’re going.’
‘Oliver,’ said Gordon simply. ‘Do you know how many things that could go wrong last year did? It’s just bound to happen.’
At that moment, green flames roared in the fireplace and Luke stepped out, brushing soot off his robes.
‘Heh,’ said Gordon.
‘Well, it’s not exactly fun, but at least it’s fast,’ said Luke, looking round the Leaky Cauldron. Soon Oliver’s mother had followed him out of the fire.
‘There we go,’ she said, brushing some soot of the brim of the hat she was wearing. ‘That wasn’t too difficult was it?’
Gordon shrugged, still feeling that Floo Powder was an accident waiting to happen.
*
After they had all been to Gringotts to get their money, Oliver had hurriedly pointed out Quality Quidditch supplies, and was insisting that they go straight there.
‘Not until we’ve got all your school books,’ said his mother, as Oliver looked aghast. ‘We have to get the essentials first.’
Gordon thought Oliver was about to explain to his mother that there was nothing more essential than a new broomstick, but he seemed to think better of it.
‘We’ll go to Flourish and Blotts first,’ said Oliver’s mother, examining the reading list. ‘Then we’d better head onto Madam Malkins if we’re to get you a set of these training robes, whatever they’re for. Then we can have a look at new brooms.’
Gordon nodded, though Oliver still had a slightly mutinous look, and the three of them followed Oliver’s mother.
Flourish and Blotts seemed to be as busy as ever, and there were several other children in the shop buying their Hogwarts books as well. The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 was sat with many of the books Gordon had bought in his first year on the table in centre of the shop. In the shop window stood countless copies of Physical and Mental Resistance to the Dark Arts, which appeared to have each been bound with red leather and steel. Gordon thought they looked extremely heavy.
‘Do you think I could have a look through the second-hand section while you buy those?’ said Luke, eyeing up a large bookshelf near the back of the shop. ‘I got some really good stuff off it last year.’
Oliver’s mother nodded, much to the outrage of Oliver, who wanted to know why he hadn’t been allowed to browse the Quidditch store.
‘Because your books are essential! That’s why!’ scolded Oliver’s mother. ‘You can just be patient!’
Oliver’s mother picked three books off the table and joined the rather long queue, as Luke strolled off to the second-hand section. Gordon and Oliver went over to the window.
Gordon picked up one of the Haldeir Ripjaw books and nearly fell over. The book weighed a ton, and seemed to be even heavier than its thickly bound cover suggested. Gordon had just managed to pull a second book up into his grasp, when he heard a familiar voice call from the shop stairs.
‘Hello!’
Gordon looked up to see Veronica Haremia, a Gryffindor girl in Gordon’s year, staring down at him and Oliver. Gordon was about to say hi, when the books tumbled out of his hands and clattered onto the floor, leaving some impressive dents in the floorboards.
‘Alright?’ asked Oliver, as Gordon began hauling the books back up into his grasp. ‘How’s your summer been?’
‘It’s been okay,’ said Veronica. ‘Alana and I have just been getting our stuff today. Have you seen those training robes they’re selling at Madam Malkins?’
Oliver shook his head. Gordon, feeling the conversation was going on fine without him, did not reply. He hadn’t spoken to Veronica much in first year; she would speak to him in Potions, if they were working together, but in the other classes she only seemed interested in Percy and Luke.
‘They’re like dressing gowns with trousers!’ said Veronica, pulling out what did indeed appear to be a plain white dressing gown out of one of her many bags.
‘Wow,’ said Oliver, dumping a third book into Gordon’s arms and examining the robes. ‘I wonder what they’re for?’
Veronica looked rather disdainfully at Oliver before reply.
‘I’d have thought that was obvious, Oliver,’ she said, with an air of supremacy that instantly reminded Gordon why he didn’t speak to her.
Oliver, who was evidently as in the dark about this as Gordon, blushed rather furiously at this, but was spared the task of replying by a small, mousy-haired girl, who appeared on staircase above them.
‘Alana!’ shouted Veronica, rather more loudly than Gordon thought was necessary. ‘Gordon and Oliver are here.’
The girl, another Gryffindor in Gordon’s year called Alana Thistlethwaite, did not reply, but instead waved rather weakly at Gordon and Oliver. Oliver waved back, and Gordon tried to nod without letting the books slide out of his arms. Eventually he decided it was not worth the effort, and he let them fall onto the shop floor, once again denting the floorboards.
‘It’s all right, Alana, it’s only them! Honestly!’
Alana came the stairs clutching a rather overfilled and tatty looking rucksack and a book called Particular Potions for Serious Situations. Now Gordon thought about it, he hadn’t really spoken to her much either last year, though Alana seemed to be pretty quiet anyway.
‘Tell me you’re not practicing for Potions as well!’ exclaimed Oliver. ‘It’s all Luke ever seems to go on about.’
‘What?’ said Alana. ‘Oh. Well, you know, I didn’t do very well last year. So this year I need to do, um, better.’
‘Well, speak to Luke about it,’ said Oliver. ‘He could use a Potions partner for sure.’
Alana did not reply to this, though Veronica seemed quite amused by it. In the end it was she who replied.
‘Isn’t he with you? I thought you and him always hung around together?’ she said, pointing a finger at Gordon.
‘I’m here,’ said Luke from the other side of the table, surprising Gordon and causing Alana to jump. ‘How’s your summer been?’
‘It’s been okay,’ said Veronica, who was still smiling. ‘Listen, we’d better be heading off…’
‘Oh,’ said Luke. ‘Well, suit yourself. See you later then.’
As Veronica strode out of the shop, Alana trailed after her, giving them all another meek wave before blushing and chasing off after Veronica.
‘Glad she’s gone,’ said Gordon, picking up one of the Ripjaw books.
‘Who? Veronica?’ said Luke, who seemed to be cradling half the second-hand section in his arms. ‘She’s alright. A bit full of herself, I guess.’
‘Nah, I’m with Gordon on this,’ said Oliver, heaving one of the books onto the table. ‘I was sat next to her in Charms all of last year and she never said a word to me.’
‘Did you say anything to her yourself?’ said Luke.
‘What? Well, no, not exactly…’ stuttered Oliver. ‘But still…’
Luke let out a chuckle as they heaved their books up to the front desk, where Oliver’s mother stood chatting with the assistant.
‘Okay,’ said the man behind the counter, examining the books and pulling out his wand. ‘I’m to put a simple lightening charm on these books before you take them. They should be light as a feather today, but by the time you get them to Hogwarts they’ll have resumed their normal weight.’
‘Couldn’t you make them stay light forever?’ said Gordon, but the assistant simply laughed.
‘I’m afraid you’re rather missing the point of them, young sir! Your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was very specific with the duration of the enchantment.’
Gordon shrugged as the assistant flicked his wand at each of the books in turn, and when Gordon picked up his textbook, it was as light as a feather. Gordon and Oliver paid for their books, and Luke put his second-hand selection down on the counter. There were several tatty old school books, and a couple of them had lost their covers completely.
‘I’ll take these,’ said Luke, as the assistant began inspecting the books disdainfully. ‘But I was also looking for a copy of Moste Potente Potions.’
The assistant looked up from the tattered copy of A Question of Tarot he was examining, and stared purposefully at Luke.
‘I’m afraid we don’t stock it,’ he replied, examining Luke with appraising eyes. ‘I take it you are buying it for an older friend?’
‘No,’ said Luke, puffing his chest out in an almost Percy-like manner. ‘It’s for me.’
The assistant continued to stare at him.
‘Er… he is very good at Potions,’ said Gordon.
‘Well,’ said the assistant, who was still examining Luke with a rather sceptical look on his face. ‘As I say, we do not stock it. That will be sixteen Galleons.’
‘Okay,’ said Luke, pulling some coins out of his pocket. ‘Do you know anywhere that would stock it?’
‘I can imagine a few places, but I would suggest you speak to your Potions teacher about it first; I think he would have a better idea of whether or not you are ready for something like that.’
Gordon felt he could see Luke’s heart sink as the assistant said this. As good as Luke was at Potions, he was still in Gryffindor, and that was enough for Professor Snape to be as unhelpful as possible. Gordon felt Luke was likely to get onto the Quidditch team before he got that book off Snape.
Oliver’s mother took them off to Madam Malkin’s next, to buy the training robes on their school list. The robes, all of which were white cotton, only came in five sizes, so they did not have to be measured for them in the same way as they had been for their school robes. This was music to Oliver’s ears however, since it meant they were only there for a few minutes and could head straight on to…
‘Quality Quidditch Supplies!’ said Oliver, grinning and staring through the window at an ornate oak broom in the window. ‘Let’s get you a broom!’ he said, dragging Gordon inside.
As soon as Gordon walked inside the doorway, it quickly became apparent that this was another shop whose inner dimensions did not match its outer ones. The floor space of the shop seemed to be nearly as big as Hogwarts’ Great Hall, and almost every inch of the walls seemed to have a broomstick hanging from it. Gordon saw the ridiculously oversized one he had seen in Oliver’s newspaper cutting, but fixed his eyes on the huge sign on the far wall of the shop, which read Quidditch Specials.
‘This place is amazing!’ said Gordon, barely able to take it all in. ‘Did you get your broom from here?’
‘Yeah,’ replied Oliver, grinning as he examined a set of professional standard Bludgers on a shelf. ‘Got my last two from here. Dad gave me a Shooting Star from work when I was about five.’
‘Wow!’ said Gordon, as he examined a Comet 150, apparently the broom of choice for the English national side.
‘You like those Comets?’ said Oliver, running his fingers over the handle with interest. ‘I’ve always preferred Nimbuses. Comet’s have always been about looks rather than speed.’
‘Yeah, I bet,’ said Gordon, who wasn’t really listening and was instead looking at a very expensive looking broom in a glass case, marked as the Orion custom.
‘Fascinating as this place is,’ began Luke behind them. ‘I have a lot of other things I want to pick up. I could grab your potions supplies if you want.’
‘Would you?’ said Oliver, who had eyes only for the broomsticks. ‘If you could just get us a set of basic supplies, that would be great.’
‘Sure,’ said Luke, with a sly shake of his head. ‘I’ll see you back here in about an hour.’
‘Fine,’ said Oliver, who was far more interested in pointing out the Nimbus Curvehorn to Gordon.
*
An hour later, Gordon found himself walking out of Quality Quidditch Supplies with, as Oliver had so excitedly recommended, a brand new Nimbus Curvehorn under his arm, and he wondered if he had ever felt more excited in his life. Admittedly, he had managed to completely clear out his account at Gringotts, and had to borrow a couple of Galleons off Luke to afford it, but now he felt like his place on the Gryffindor team was guaranteed, and he couldn’t wait to get back to Oliver’s to try it out.
Luke, like Gordon, had also managed to spend a great deal, though his purchases seemed to be a considerably less interesting than Gordon’s. He had spent much of his money on very expensive potions ingredients and the books from Flourish and Blotts, and had apparently been sorely tempted to buy a crystal cauldron, which would mean he could check the consistency of his potions from all angles.
‘Come on then!’ said Gordon, as he stepped out of Oliver’s fireplace, and into the living room. ‘I want to test this broom out!’
‘You guys go on up,’ said Oliver. ‘There’s a something I want to do first. I’ll be up in about five minutes.’
Gordon found it hard to believe that after all of Oliver’s encouragement he now had something better to be doing than practicing Quidditch, but decided that the chance to try out his new broom could not wait. Grabbing Luke by the arm, he tore off up the stairs to try it out.
As Gordon pulled open the door to the Quidditch room, he was delighted to see that there was not a cloud in the sky, which he reminded himself was probably because it was artificial. Tearing off the brown paper his broom was wrapped in; he gave its highly polished surface a stroke, before mounting it, taking a deep breath, and kicking off from the ground.
As Gordon shot up into the sky, he could see exactly what Oliver had meant about the Curvehorn. It was considerably faster than the Nimbus he had flown yesterday, and enabled him to change direction so quickly he nearly fell off the first few times. Gordon spent several minutes pulling in and out of increasingly fast dives, before shooting back down to the ground, where Luke was sat reading one of his books.
‘Are you getting yourself a broom?’ asked Gordon, pulling himself to a halt only inches from Luke’s face.
‘I’m not getting it,’ said Luke, who looked pleasantly surprised that Gordon hadn’t crashed into him. ‘That shed has spiders that could take your arm off.’
‘They’re only spiders!’ said Gordon, rolling his eyes. ‘Don’t be so soft!’
Luke cursed at Gordon as he pulled his broom up into a loop the loop.
‘You go and get it if you’re so desperate to play,’ said Luke, setting down his book and folding his arms. ‘You want the practice? You get the stuff.’
Gordon sighed and dismounted, wondering how many other people in the history of Gryffindor “ the supposedly brave house “ had been afraid of spiders. As he opened up the shed door, several of them fell from the ceiling and scuttled outside, causing Luke to jump to his feet and run back to the doorway.
‘For crying out loud!’ laughed Gordon, picking up the spare Nimbus and the Quaffle. ‘They’re only spiders!’
‘How on earth can you say that?’ exclaimed Luke. ‘What if they’re magic spiders that can kill you just by touch?’
Gordon looked at a spider that was presently sat, shaking, on the Quaffle. It looked to be a fairly ordinary house spider, but he supposed it wasn’t worth taking chances, and shook if off onto the floor.
‘Well, anyway,’ said Gordon, shutting the shed door behind him. ‘Here is your broom, which I assure you is quite spider free. Now are you playing or what?’
Luke took the broom off Gordon, and proceeded to give it a very thorough inspection for spiders at arms length, before apparently deciding it was safe and mounting it.
‘I’d just like to try some passing if that’s okay,’ said Gordon, clutching the Quaffle and kicking off from the ground. ‘I don’t know how well I’m going to do on something this fast.’
Luke nodded, and kicked off himself. He evidently wasn’t used to having a faster broom either, and bolted forward on the Nimbus far quicker than he had anticipated, leaving him hanging on for dear life.
‘You okay there?’ said Gordon, shooting alongside Luke with ease. Luke gave him a rude hand gesture, but seemed to be gaining control of the broom.
Gordon spent several more minutes passing the Quaffle back and forth with Luke, rather hoping that Oliver would show up soon. Luke was doing his best, but his passing was rather erratic at the best of times, and on an even quicker broom he was worse than ever. Still, Gordon thought as he dropped down several feet to catch another inaccurate pass, at least he was getting some good flying practice.
It was only as Luke fumbled another of Gordon’s high speed passes that the pair of them noticed Oliver come out. To Gordon’s surprise he was not alone, but was being closely followed by Charlie Weasley.
‘Alright, guys!’ said Charlie, soaring up towards them. ‘Olly tells me you’re thinking of trying out for the house team.’
Gordon didn’t know what to say. He had spoken to Charlie a couple of times last year, but hadn’t banked on seeing the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain until trials.
‘Er…yeah. If that’s okay. I’m not the greatest…’
‘Don’t listen to him, Charlie,’ said Oliver, beaming as he shot up to their level. ‘In a couple of years he’ll be better than my brother. I think he’ll be certain for the team.’
Gordon found himself going rather red in the face at Oliver’s words, but Charlie simply nodded and smiled.
‘Well, if you’re coaching him, I’m sure we’ll be fine. I take it you’re all set to be our keeper then, Olly? Why don’t you get in goal and we’ll see how hard you’ve been practicing.’
Oliver smiled and shot off to circle around the three hoops at one side of the pitch, while Charlie signalled for Gordon to throw him the Quaffle. Gordon threw it in front of him, and Charlie seized it midway through a roll, looking for a second like he might fall off, but pulling out of the roll with it gripped firmly under his arm, before releasing a shot that powered its way towards Oliver, who caught it with some difficulty.
‘I’m not going to be pulling any punches today, Olly,’ said Charlie with a smile. ‘If you want to get onto the team then you’re going to have prove you’re capable!’
Oliver nodded, and flung the Quaffle out towards Luke, who fumbled it. Gordon saw it falling through the air and shot down into a dive to catch it, snatching it into his grasp about ten feet off the ground.
‘Nicely done,’ said Charlie, as Gordon shot back up to his level and passed the Quaffle back over to Luke. ‘Oliver’s right; you’re not a bad flier at all.’
*
Charlie did not spare Oliver or Gordon a second’s flying time, and in a few hours Gordon felt he had covered a greater distance than in the previous two days. The only person Charlie seemed be letting off from the flying was Luke, who had spent the first hour dropping nearly everything that they had thrown at him, and had only really got into the flow towards the end.
In spite of the aching now coming back through his arms, Gordon could see why Charlie had been made Quidditch captain. As well as being an excellent flier, Charlie seemed to have a knowledge of tricks and moves that surpassed even Oliver’s, and had successfully managed to teach Gordon a reverse passing move called the Van-Haag turn. Even though Charlie was Gryffindor’s seeker, Gordon felt sure he could have been the best player in whatever position he had chosen.
‘How was Romania?’ asked Luke, as they flew back down to the ground after an exhausting game of first time passes and shots.
‘It was amazing,’ said Charlie, with a dreamy look on his face. ‘You remember that wyvern? Well, it was just a baby compared to some of the dragons they had there. You should have seen the King Shortsnout! You couldn’t have fitted the thing in the Great Hall!’
‘Did they play Quidditch at all?’ asked Oliver, who Gordon thought might have been far more impressed if he had seen the wyvern at the end of last year. ‘Romania got the quarter finals of the last World Cup.’
‘We had a game or two,’ said Charlie, as Oliver put the Quaffle and the Nimbus back into the broom shed. ‘Although there wasn’t much time to be honest. Do you remember Illie?’
‘The Romanian Captain?’ asked Oliver. ‘He was ancient! He’s played in every World Cup since “’
‘“1962. Yeah,’ replied Charlie, with another smile. ‘Well, he works there.’
‘No way!’ said Oliver, eyes and mouth wide open.
‘Yeah. He’s been a benefactor of the place for the last ten years. Got a lot of support for it amongst the Romanian wizards, which was no easy task.’
‘How come?’ asked Gordon, opening the door back to the house. ‘Are they difficult to keep?’
Charlie paused for a moment, as if looking for the words.
‘Sometimes, yeah,’ he managed eventually. ‘It depends on the dragon. Some of them have been in captivity all their lives, and rather see the whole thing as a hotel service. But there have been some difficult cases they captured in the wild. There was a female Hungarian Horntail they wouldn’t even let me see the enclosure of. Seemed to think it would scare me off!’
Charlie laughed as he said this, though Oliver and Gordon exchanged a nervous look.
‘Anyway,’ said Charlie, as they reached the fireplace. ‘I’d better get off home. I can’t really make any promises at this stage, because I don’t know what will happen in trials, but if you keep practicing you should both have a very good chance of making the team.’
Gordon and Oliver nodded back as Charlie cast some Floo powder into the fireplace, and with one cry of, ‘The Burrow!’ he disappeared.
‘You think we can make the team?’ asked Gordon.
‘If Charlie thinks so, then that’s good enough for me,’ said Oliver, grinning once more.
Gordon Owen and the Eastern Warrior - Book Two of the Evil Kneazle Series by AurorKeefy
Chapter Notes: Thanks to Ari for beta help with this chapter, as well as continued thanks to Snape's Talon, who regretfully isn't still here to see the remains of her handiwork, all those years ago.
May I also offer my apologies for the long delay in uploading. Real life has been cruelly busy of late.
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