Random Hogwarts Student: Thomas Edward Greenwood

Random Hogwarts Student: Thomas Edward Greenwood

By Ababil Ashari

IV

Quidditch Bitch

School this week seemed so much harder that the last, especially Defense against the Dark Arts. That Snape's one slave driver. Next Monday we were supposed to submit a 15 inch essay on how the form of the Patronus reflects its owner. How am I supposed to now? I don't even have a Patronus.

The other subjects aren't picnics either. In Arithmancy we were told to compare the ancient Wenlockian Chart of Sevens to the contemporary Knight-Pasaribu Chart of Prime and Imaginary Numbers and their efficiency in solving Fautley's Faulty Question. In Charms we are expected to perform the Concealing Charm, which requires an exact hand movement that is both intricate and straining. In Astronomy...well, you get the point, right?

But it is another Saturday...time to sleep in.

"..."

"Zzz..."

Snore.

Subtle noises of body rubbing against the bed to find just the right position.

More snoring.

"Wake up you lazy bastard!!!"

"Ahhh!!!"

I grabbed my wand by reflex and pointed it toward where the sound was coming from which made Alex, Matt, Liam, and Graham laugh hard.

"Thom, it's fucking half past nine! Get the fuck up!"

God damn you, Liam Albarn.

"Hey, hey, ho!" I shouted unintelligibly. "What's the rush, Liam?"

"Captain wants us down on the Quidditch pitch, Thom," said the thick-rimmed glasses wearing Graham Gallagher. And oh, yeah...sorry for going three chapters without telling you I played Quidditch.

"You must be mad. Try-outs are tomorrow."

"But Gryffindor try-outs are today and we're supposed to watch it," explained Matt.

"Whatever." I buried my head in a pillow and shut my eyes but I suddenly woke up and took off my pajamas in front of my friends in a frantic fit to change into my casual clothes when Matt said these six words...

"Gladys is going to be there."

I walked to the Quidditch Pitch determinededly, so determined I forgot to eat breakfast.

"I bet that bitch is sweet-talking Roger as we speak," I said full of spite.

"I bet," said Matt.

"She probably thinks she can get my job by charming the captain so thoroughly he'd want to snog her...thoroughly!"

"Yep," said Liam.

"Well she's got another thing coming!"

"Whatever you say," said Graham.

I could sense the boredom in their replies but I didn't want to stop so I just continued chattering on and on and on and on about her until we arrived at the Quidditch Pitch which was unusually congested for a try-out session.

"Wow, a lot of people are here..."

"Finally, something that doesn't concern Gladys..." said Alex.

"Look, Gladys and Roger are talking to each other!"

"I spoke too soon..."

This would be a good time to introduce to you the girl I've been raging about. Her name is Gladys Muriel Chandler and she's in the fourth-year. She's been eyeing my Keeper position for three years now and she almost got it last year in try-outs when we took a penalty shoot-out to 43 rounds but I managed to beat her by one save (my 36 saves to her 35 saves). And I'm not going to give it up this time!

"Hey, Captain. What's up?" I said diplomatically as I walked to Roger Davies leaving Matt, Liam, Graham, and Alex.

"You're late, Greenwood. What's your excuse?"

"I didn't know we we're gonna actually watch the Gryffindor tryouts..."

"If you came to the Great Hall in the morning like a normal, motivated Hogwarts student, you would know, now wouldn't you?" said Roger strictly.

"Yes, Captain. This kind of tardiness could cost a player his spot on his team, right," said the blonde bitch Gladys condescendingly.

But thankfully the good Captain would have none of it. "Put a sock in it, Chandler. You're dismissed."

"But..."

"But nothing, Chandler. Go hang out with McAdams or something." He was referring to Gladys' best friend Regina McAdams, also a fixture during tryouts.

"Yes, Captain."

Gladys left the Quidditch pitch altogether. Leaving Roger and I to watch the sky under a gentle drizzle.

"Where's Albarn, Gallagher, and Tong anyway?" asked Roger.

"There they are." I pointed to where they were.

"Get them."

"Yo! Liam, Graham, Matt! Over here!"

They came through the carnival-esque type of crowd to where we were.

"Good. Now let's look at the try-outs."

We stood there looking up and commenting on it.

"Look at the new girl, Demelza Robbins. She's looking quite dangerous up there."

"Yeah, he just stopped to grab that Quaffle on a dime. He could do a number on Lisa if it's a one on one situation."

"Right, Pewnair. Turpin would have her hands full...Pewnair?! What are you doing here?"

"C'mon, Captain. I'm just watching with you guys."

"Go, Pewnair. Starters and reserves only."

Alex left defeated.

"Weren't you a little bit too harsh, Captain?" I said.

"No, I was not harsh, Greenwood. Shut up."

Blunt as ever, he was.

"Ok."

The next day was our turn to use the Quidditch Pitch and I woke up early, had breakfast, and grabbed my previously owned Nimbus 2000 and walked to the Quidditch Pitch to play a half-pitch pick-up game with Matt, Liam, and Graham.

The sun was half-up when we started the game. It was a free-for-all every-man-for-him-self game to score as many goals (that is 'kept' by me) as they could. By the end of it Liam had gotten 430 points, Matt had 230 points, Graham had 210 points.

"Dammit!" said Graham.

"Better luck next time, seeker-in-training," teased Liam.

When Liam said 'training' Roger and the rest of the students that were going to tryout flew up to the center of the pitch.

"Yo! Center pitch!" Roger shouted. So we flew to center pitch and lined up in front of Roger in mid-air.

Disappointing turnout this year, last year we had thirty candidates, now we only have twenty. It's definitely way different that the Gryffindor try-outs yesterday, plus Roger wouldn't allow an audience so the atmosphere was dead serious.

God, this is pathetic.

"Now, everybody, one by one introduce yourselves. Starting with you." Roger pointed to a skinny, timid third-year girl whose name I don't recall.

"Me?"

"Yes you."

She flew to Roger's side and said with a barely audible voice, "My name is Monica Greene."

"And what year are you in, Greene?"

"Th-"

"Louder!" said Roger as Monica's voice trailed off.

"Third year."

"And the position you are trying out for?" nudged Roger.

"Chaser."

"Ok, go back to the line. Next!"

I think I heard an "alright" escape her small mouth but I couldn't be sure.

Next Warren Chesterfield came up to Roger's side and said with a booming voice "Warren Chesterfield, seventh year, Beater," everybody in Ravenclaw respected Warren. He had been in the team since his second year and everybody loved him. Even I, in a totally platonic way.

Sixteen players later...

"Thom Greenwood, fifth year, Keeper."

Then...

"Gladys Chandler, fourth year, Keeper."

Only two students tried for keeper this year, me and her. It was gonna be a long day...

For the first test he had us just hovering in the positions we were for an hour to test our endurance. Gladys and I stayed up there like birds who had been flying forever, as did Warren and Roger. Liam even slept on his broom at one point. Graham almost fell, as did Monica. But the first casualty was second-year Finesse Thompson who fell to the ground from 50 feet and had to be taken to Madam Pomfrey.

Then the Keepers and the Beaters took a rest down on the grass while the chasers engaged in a 2 on 2 lightning-fast no-keeper pick up game. The winners of the mini tournament were the team of Liam Albarn/Monica Greene who beat the team of Matt Tong/Regina McAdams in the finals. Gladys looked immensely disappointed that her friend lost to a skinny timid third-year. I just laughed on the inside at Gladys pain. Ache bitch, ache!

Next it was the Beaters' turn. I didn't bother to watch their tryouts. All I know was that in the end Warren got three new, green Beaters from the second-year and third-year that would apprentice under Warren for the entire year.

Finally, it was the Keepers' turn.

"Now, it's the Keeper tryouts!" said Roger with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. "Gladys Chandler, Thom Greenwood. C'mere!"

...Ok?

I had this confused expression on my face while Gladys just remained deadpan. I looked down at the ground and saw specks of people coming and some of them were bringing picnic baskets.

"Why are all those people coming?" I asked.

"Don't you know? They're here to watch you guys tryout," said Roger.

"Why?"

"Cause last years shootout was legendary, man! 43 rounds! It was tooth and nail! Everybody knows about the Keeper Match of 1995!"

I didn't realize last years shootout was this big. Everybody's here, even Slytherins! I'm getting nervous and I think it's showing...while Gladys remained deadpan. Damn, this girl has got a thick hide.

"Ok, you will be given five rounds of penalty to score as many goals against each other and in a situation where the score is tied the shootout will go to sudden-death in which if one scores and the other doesn't, it's game over," said Roger to us, but it was so loud it seemed like it was intended for the people down there.

So we start the shootout. I was keeper first, she was chaser. I saved the Quaffle and felt it in my gut...

"Are you feeling it, Thom?" mocked Gladys to my face as we traded places.

"Not even a little, Gladys," I was lying, I was feeling it.

It was my turn to bring the "Heat!!!"

Gladys gagged when she caught the quaffle in the gut. As I did.

"How do like that, huh?"

"Very much so, Thom. Bring it on!"

So we continued in that manner for twenty-seven rounds. Not concentrating on putting the quaffle in the goal but just bringing the Quaffle as hard as we could to each others' bodies, and finally...

"Goal!!!"

"Gladys, Gladys, Gladys!!!"

By the chant of Gladys' cheering section you would know that it wasn't I who scored that goal. The pressure was really on me now. Imagine after twenty-eight rounds of penalty shootout you were tied 0-0 and suddenly your opponent scores. Do you know how that can crush a person's spirit, not to mention heart?

Now I have to score. I have to score...

"C'mon, Thom. Gimme your best shot," said a weary Gladys.

"I'm just beginning," I said equally as weary.

I have to score.

Gladys looked at me with pure confidence and a wide, wicked smile.

I turned that smile to a surprised 'O' when I fake a throw to the right and at the last split second twisted my left hand so the ball direction went to the left with a spin. As Gladys already moved to right she did the only thing she could do...get a hand in.

"Ahhhhrghh."

Goal. 10-10

Gladys clutched her right wrist as her face contorted in pain.

Out of pure sympathy I asked, "Are you Ok?"

"Fuck you," was what escaped her mouth.

Roger came it to take a look at Gladys' wrist. It was swollen, it was certainly broken. He said, "Do you wanna continue?"

Gladys let out a pained "Yess!!!" then ordered Roger to "Go!!!"

Roger then announced to the people below that "Gladys is OK!"

The people cheered. I looked down to see who was down there. I saw Tina, Sarah, Alex, Matt, Megan, Liam, Graham, Monica, Warren, Ana, Richard, Ewan, Lindsay, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginevra...she was watching!

Now it was my turn to keep. I felt guilty injuring her throwing wrist, I was surely going to win this one eventually...this is not right.

Then suddenly things became right.

"Aggghhhh!!!" I can't believe it, bitch broke my left arm! I almost keel over from my broom when the quaffle hit me in the arm when I wasn't ready to keep. It was a cheap shot. But how did she threw so hard?!

"Hey, Thom!" she said between pained expressions. "Don't you know I write with my left hand! I'm a switch thrower you son-of-a-bitch!"

I thought I was gonna pass out. I kept waiting for that moment but it didn't come, I was still conscious but just barely. I could see that she was too. In a perfect world we would both be Keepers, but this ain't a perfect world.

"Yah!!!" I screamed as I threw the quaffle as hard as I could with my non-throwing arm. It was a pathetic little throw that missed by a mile.

"Ha ha ha! You're going down, Tommy Boy!"

I would've retorted immediately after that put down if I hadn't been speeding down to the ground trying to catch Gladys' unconscious body that was freefalling to the ground.

I caught her, I caught her like a good keeper would. But I didn't have time.

Time to pull up.

"Thom...Are you awake?"

"If you can hear me say 'my chemical romance'."

"My. Chemical. Romance?"

"He's awake, sis!

"Wow, he seemed so weak when I beat him up after Arithmancy...I have new respect for Thom Greenwood."

"Can you open your eyes, Thom?"

"He's still gone, Emily"

"Congratulations, Thom. You got it. But don't think I'll go easy on you come November, k?"

"I don't think he can hear you right now, Sarah."

"Is he dead?"

"Don't be so rude, Gladys."

"Yes, Warren."

"Stay in your bed, Miss Chandler!"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

"When will he wake up, Madam?"

"I don't know for sure, Miss Lightbody."

"But it won't be longer than a day, right?"

"No, Miss Poelher. I doubt it."

"Has he sustained permanent damage?"

"He better."

"5 points from Ravenclaw, Miss Chandler!"

"Humph."

"You do realize that you are taking from your own house, Professor Flitwick?"

"Yes, I do Mister Pewnair."

"Ok then."

"Hey, Thom. I don't know if you can hear me but, this is Ana by the way...where was I?..."

"...I don't know if you can hear me, but...

"Thanks, Matt. I don't know if you can hear me but Ginny asked how you were doing. I'm going to tell her that you are okay, okay? Okay."

"You tell her that, Ana."

"Sure, Megan. I'm gonna do it right now."

"Meh...Ginny..."

"Bye, sis!"

"This sucks, Thom gets all the visitors!"

"Gladys, you just had the whole fourth year class come in here to see you."

"The whole fourth year class came to see Thom!"

"Well they saw you first, Gladys."

"Shut up, Regina."

"Besides if Thom hadn't caught you back there, you would be the one with the broken neck and leg."

"..."

"Okay, it's late in the night and Mister Greenwood needs to rest. I think all of you students need to go."

"Can't we stay for a couple of minutes, Madam Pomfrey? Please..."

"Absolutely not, Miss Lightbody. Have a good night."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"I love you, Thom Greenwood."

"..."

"..."

"Please don't let him hear that, Please don't let him hear that, Please don't let him hear that, Please don't let him hear that..."