Sirens

Chapter 6

Beaters and Spies

"Hey Izzie!"

"Hello."

Isabella was still down after the events - and realisations - of the previous night.

"Make sure you hit a Bludger at Potter today, eh?" said Daphne Greengrass, grinning as she slipped into the seat next to Izzie. "He thinks he's so damn great, and Trace told me you're a bloody good shot."

"I'm reasonable," said Isabella, trying to sound enthusiastic but failing. Daphne seemed to put it down to nerves.

"Look, you'll be fine," said Daphne, confidently. "You're an excellent Beater. You'll thrash those Gryffindor sods, just you wait."

"Yeah...I just..."

"Just nothing. You'll help us win, I know. We haven't beaten Gryffindor for ages. This'll be our first victory, and I can tell you'll be a huge component in it. You're going to win us a match!"

"I'm not a Chaser, Daff, I'm a Beater!" said Isabella. "I can't score goals. I can't actually win any points."

"But you can stop the other team scoring them!"

Isabella gave up. She liked Daphne but she was hopelessly optimistic.

In truth, Isabella was not anxious at all about the match. She wasn't the sort of person to get nervous. Isabella's motto was "Just get on and do it". She had long ago decided that nerves wasted precious life and she just didn't have time for them. Ok, it was going to be a bit awkward being the only girl on the team, and green wasn't the most flattering colour in the world for her skin tone, but she wasn't too worried about it. No, the thing that was worrying Isabella was not the match. It was Draco.

He was being oddly off-hand and too casual not to arouse suspicion. Isabella knew she had no proof, but she suspected that she was not the only object of Draco's affection. She wasn't particularly upset at the cheating - she had kind of seen it coming after all - but she was worried that if Draco didn't get his act together and become an attentive, caring and...well, nice person that she could love, or at least really like, then she may find her crush on Seamus Finnigan becoming altogether deeper. And there was no way she was going to allow herself to fall for him.

She didn't notice the pair of dark eyes that were watching her from across the hall. But Avalon was good at being discreet. After all, she discreetly fancied half her year and nobody was any the wiser. (Avalon was a bit of femme fatale by all accounts). And being pretty, they probably discreetly fancied her too. Half the fifth and sixth years had a bit of a soft spot for the forthright Italian.

One such boy - a good-looking fifth year called Taylor Jennings with a knack for Charms - disturbed Avalon's concentration as she scrutinised her older sister closely. He approached her, and tapped her on the shoulder. Avalon jumped, and glared at the unfortunate boy.

"What?" she said, crossly.

"Hi, Evelyn."

"Avalon."

"Hear your sister's in the match. What's her name again? Lizzie?"

"Izzie."

"Cool. So, d'you play Quiditch?"

"Yes."

"Cool, me too. I'm a Chaser generally. You?"

"Keeper."

"Fancy practising with me one night?"

This was such a lame idea Avalon actually laughed.

"You really aren't very good with girls, are you, Jennings?" she said, a slight smile on her face. The boy looked slightly annoyed.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked.

Avalon snorted.

"You really don't want to know," she said, concluding the conversation and banishing the mild annoyance back to his seat. But to her irritation as she looked back to Isabella's seat at the Slytherin table, she found Malcolm Braddock sitting there eating sausages. She cursed at being denied an opportunity to spy on her sister and slipped away from the table, telling Ginny that she'd meet her outside the dormitory.

---

"Who are you?"

A very tall and oddly gorilla like boy with a pudding-basin haircut confronted Avalon near the entrance to the dungeons.

"I'm Evelyn," she said. "Who are you?"

"Vincent."

"You a Slytherin?"

"Yeah, are you?"

"No. Gr...Ravenclaw. Could you tell Izzie Giordano that I'm waiting? It's important. Tell her it's Avvie."

She winced at having to use her much-hated nickname, but she was a slightly paranoid girl. She didn't want some boy - and one that evolution had evidently overlooked, too - knowing who she was and who to come and beat up if she ever decided to pull a small prank. Tough though she was Avalon wasn't stupid. She knew that if she ever found herself in a fight with this...creature, he could snap her neck like a twig.

"'Kay. So I tell Izzie it's Evy?"

"Avvie."

"Ok."

He blundered off. Avalon watched him in amused incredulity. She found it pretty amazing that a head the size of a boulder could contain a brain the size of a pea.

About five minutes later Isabella appeared, looking annoyed. She'd tied her black curls into a long plait that hung halfway down her back. She scowled when she saw her sister.

"What do you want?" she asked, irritably. "I'm already nervous enough about this match without you going 'oh we're going to win'."

"You're not nervous, you liar," said Avalon smugly. "You don't get nervous. I know what your problem is."

Isabella looked at her. She couldn't make out the expression on her face.

"You have no idea what my problem is, Avalon," Isabella said. "You have no idea. And I am frankly glad of that. Now please go!"

"You haven't heard the end of this," warned Avalon at the risk of sounding clichéd. "I am going to find out why you're so down, you know, and when I know, you'll know."

"That is so corny," said Isabella with a scornful glare.

Avalon smirked as her sister stormed off, even more annoyed that she had been at breakfast. She recognised the signs in her sister. There was someone in Isabella's life who did not feel the way about her as she did about him, and Avalon was determined to find out who it was.

---

Oh, the joy of broom riding, thought Isabella dully as she stared out into the rain. It never ends.

They had chosen the worst day possible to play. It was raining, it was windy and Draco was being surprisingly distant. Admittedly he and Isabella had shared a very enjoyable ten minutes before the match behind a statue on the third floor, but that was over and he was being too shifty. Isabella stared out at the pitch. Her hair was plaited but curls that were too short to fit in kept falling in her face and irritating her, and her robes were slightly too tight. She felt self-conscious in them; and not just because they were making her chest stick out but because green was not the most flattering colour in the world.

A pale, delicate hand with bright pink nails tapped her on the shoulder. Isabella turned around and saw Carey, Tracy, Daphne and Sadi had all come to wish her luck. She smiled at them, but it was forced. Not only did she still have the blues, but Carey's nails were really digging into her shoulder.

"Hi," she said.

"Izzie, we HAVE to win!" said Tracy - who Isabella noticed with amusement had scratches on her face and a bruise forming on her forehead - jumping to the point immediately. "I just had such a fight with Ginny Weasley because she overheard me saying she was a crappy Chaser and Harry Potter is the world's worst captain. Sadly she can still play with a black eye, but aim a Bludger at her and knock her off her broom so she can't!"

"This brings out a lovely colour in you, Trace," said Sadi, dryly. She'd always been much more accepting that most of the other Slytherin girls. Isabella liked her. "But try to win, Izz. I heard that girl Sally-Anne Perks - you know, that irritating Gryffindor in our year - really having a go at you. It's stupid, really, but you have to show her you're better than what she thinks!"

Isabella nodded dumbly at their words, but her mind was not on the match or her friends. Her eyes had flickered onto the stands and spotted Seamus with his arm around Diotrephes, and her mind had gone into jealousy overdrive.

Carey was saying something now but Isabella wasn't listening. She was fighting the urge to curse Callista Diotrephes into a thousand slimy pieces. Geez, she thought. I've got it bad. I hope this crush goes away soon.

"...so he went off in a huff and he hasn't spoken to me since, but he can't get me, eh?"

Isabella jerked from her trance and blindly agreed with the rest. I'm doing this a lot lately, she realised.

"Right, girlies, get out," said Montague. "We're on in about twenty seconds. Last minute pep talk." Isabella's friends went and she spotted Montague eyeing up Carey as she left. She smiled to herself.

"Right," said Montague. He banged the small table that was situated in the changing rooms, evidently couldn't think of anything to say, and said, "Get out there and beat those crimson bastards."

Isabella laughed quietly and straddled her broom, ready to fly. The rain was coming down slightly lighter now, but it was still windy and wet. She kicked off and flew in formation onto the pitch between the other Beater (Frank Williams) and Draco.

The second she was in the air she remembered why she had started to play Quiditch in the first place. There was such a rush from flying through the air at top speed, pressed to your broom and fighting off the weather whilst brandishing a Beater's bat. They broke formation and she soared at top speed in a huge loop, whooping. Her plait flew out behind her in the wind and she felt on top of the world, but then Madam Hooch blew her whistle and they all joined on the ground in their teams.

They all kicked off - but not before Montague had broken a couple of Potter's fingers, by the looks of it - and she was free again. For a few seconds she just flew in a straight line, high as a kite, but then focussed on the job in hand. Beating.

She spotted a Bludger flying around dangerously close to Vaisley, a Slytherin Chaser. She zoomed at it at about 70 mph and gave it an almighty whack towards Robins, a Gryffindor Chaser. It almost got her square on, but she slid sideways on her broom, and while she grabbed her broom to stop herself falling to Earth, she dropped the Quaffle into Vaisley's waiting arms.

"Cheers," he said, flying past Isabella and nodding. Isabella smiled at him and went off to find another Bludger. There was something oddly satisfying about hitting metal balls as hard as possible with a large bat.

She approached a Bludger, swung back, narrowly missed Ginny Weasley's head (which now sported a black eye, Isabella noticed) and thwacked it towards the Slytherin goalposts, where Bell was dangerously close to scoring. The Bludger hit her in the stomach, and she fell forward, winded. Warrington moved in, snatched the Quaffle and darted down the pitch like lightning, and promptly put the hoop through the Gryffindor goals.

"WOOOOOOOOO!" Isabella whooped, doing a somersault on her broom. She couldn't hear herself over the noise of the crowd, however. She composed herself and flew off, scrutinising the pitch. She had to stop Harry Potter getting the Snitch, and from what she'd heard he was a very good Seeker. Still, she was a very good Beater.

---

"God!" shouted Seamus to Dean over the noise. "It's been an hour and we've only scored twice! They're thrashing us! You've got binoculars, how is Slytherin blocking all our goals?"

Dean surveyed the pitch through a pair of large black binoculars.

"I haven't a bloody clue," he said, exasperatedly scanning every inch of the pitch. He focussed on Ginny just in time to see her being hit with a Bludger that Isabella had just hit.

"Geez!" he cried. "I know! It's that Isabelle girl! She's hitting Bludgers at them left right and centre! How does she manage that?"

Seamus cursed. Bloody Giordano, it would be her fault.

"Let's just hope she stays of Harry," said Callista, peering up at the sky. "If he goes down so do our chances."

Seamus squeezed her shoulder.

"She won't get Harry," he said, confidently.

It was his first miscalculation of the day.

---

Isabella was doing well. When Harry Potter called half time to sort out Ginny Weasley - whose face had got in the way of one of Williams's stray Bludgers - everyone on the team had congratulated her on her performance. She was feeling pretty pleased with herself, actually.

"Ok," said Montague. "We're 90 points up. Izzie, aim for Potter."

"Right."

"You two: we'll score as many goals as possible. Frank, you're on Chaser duty whilst Izzie aims for Potter."

"Yeah."

"Right."

"Sure thing."

"We're going to win," said Montague, confidently. "I know it."

"Too right," said Isabella, and her eyes glittered.

---

"I cannot believe this!"

Seamus was livid, as were many of the other Gryffindors in the common room that night.

"How did that stupid little Italian manage to block all our goals and hospitalise Harry?"

"Watch it, that's my sister you're talking about," said Avalon from the floor. She didn't seem too bothered about Slytherin's thrashing Gryffindor. She had never liked Quiditch.

"No," said Seamus, darkly. "That girl is ruining my life. She's a bitch in lessons and now she's beaten us as Quiditch!"

Avalon scowled.

"Seamus," she said, standing up. Even though she had to tilt her head back to look him in the face, she was still very intimidating. "I know you and my sister are not on the best of terms and I know that you're annoyed about the match, but she's still part of my family and I love her. I do," she said at the look on Seamus's face. "She can be really irritating but I do love her. She's my sister. She's family. So watch what you say about her, ok?"

Seamus rolled his eyes. He didn't plan to back off Giordano at all.

"I mean it," said Avalon, warningly. "If I hear you've been slandering her name all over the place and bitching about her, you'll be sorry."

Oh dear, she thought. That's the second time today I've used a cliché. I need to work on my vocabulary.

Seamus was quite scared of Avalon. He'd seen what she'd done to Dennis Piers when he'd badmouthed Isabella for replacing him on the Slytherin team. He didn't want to be the subject of one of Avalon's Jelly-Legs Jinxes. But Callista came and ruined the moment slightly.

"You can't hurt Seamus," she said, looking at Avalon with an expression of intense dislike and slipping her hand into Seamus's. "If you do, I'll come after you."

Avalon's expression changed from steel to amusement.

"You?" she laughed. "Can't say I care. I'd be more scared if you were any good at spells, Blister."

"My name is Callista."

"Blister suits you," said Avalon with a very nasty smile. Seamus was going to stick up for Callista, who had gone a bright shade of magenta, but it was Avalon. Avalon was...well, you didn't stand up to Avalon unless you had a mad urge to go through life as a toilet brush.

---

Avalon was restless. It was weird. It wasn't like there had been a big victory party that had kept her up late. She just didn't want to sleep.

She rolled her feet out of bed and got up. Her pretty white nightdress was made of silk and was very thin. She slipped on the pale blue kimono Roberto had bought her for her birthday. It provided little warmth but if any cute guys were spying at least she'd look nice. She pulled on a pair of flip-flops and slid out of the door, trying not to wake the other girls in her dormitory.

There was something odd about that night. It was...weird. Avalon glanced up and down the corridor that the dormitories led onto. The sixth-years girls' door was ajar. She slipped over to it silently and peeped into the room. Her sharp eyes spotted an empty bed. She couldn't see whose it was in the dark though.

She crept down the stairs and out of the portrait hole. The Fat Lady wasn't too pleased at being woken up, but Avalon persuaded her not to say anything and snuck off.

Avalon didn't tell anybody about her visions. She kept them to herself. She felt that is was her business what she saw and never caved in to the constant badgering of her peers. "Oh, tell my future! Tell me your vision!" Avalon never told anyone. She had a secret and she intended to keep it.

She met no one on her journey. She slid out of the back entrance that Isabella and Seamus had used on their stroll by the lake and headed towards the Quiditch pitch. It was dark but she could sense where she was going. It was a natural talent.

She got to the broom shed.

Stupid sod, she thought. She's left the door open! She's just asking to be caught!

She peered into the crack in the door. She could see two people in there, kissing fiercely like they were locked together. The boy was blonde, she thought, but she could see too clearly. The girl had long hair and was wearing a nightdress.

Suddenly the girl broke off, and Avalon heard her whisper, "Ssh! I can hear something!"

Avalon half panicked. She threw herself sideways and landed in a heap on the grass near the back of the shed. The girl poked her head out of the door and looked around. Avalon still couldn't work out who it was, although she saw her dress was light purple.

"I'm sure there was someone here," she said, looking around suspiciously. Avalon heard a boy's voice.

"Liss, come on, there was no one there. Come back in."

The girl withdrew, leaving Avalon alone in the wet grass. Liss? Who was Liss? She didn't know anybody who used the name Liss. Before anybody could catch her, she dashed off back to the castle, hoping against hope that Liss or her companion had spotted her.

When she had finally got back to her safe, warm bed, she lay puzzling for a long time.

Who was Liss? She didn't know many people yet, especially out of her year. She knew the girls' sixth-year dormitory door was open, but maybe it was just left like that? Was Liss in Gryffindor or another house? Did Avalon even know her? She wondered.

And who was the blonde boy? There had definitely been a blonde boy. He seemed oddly familiar to Avalon. She wracked her brains. Maybe it was Seamus, cheating on Callista for someone with slightly more brains? She wracked her brains. It could be Felicity Bingham, she supposed, but why would she ever go with Seamus? She was one of those girls who could get any boy she wanted. Why Seamus Finnigan? Did she even know it was Seamus?

She rolled over and exasperatedly beat up her pillow. Dammit, she thought, crossly. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I can't believe I'm lying here trying to work out who is snogging in the shed. Bloody bad vision. I told mum I needed glasses but nooooooooo.

Something flew at the side of her bed and bounced off.

"Shu'up, Avalon, some of us are trying to sleep!"

"Sorry Charlotte," said Avalon.

She carried on thinking, but not taking her anger out on her pillow this time. God this was irritating. Why did she even care? Why did she have to be so bloody curious?

---

Charlotte's alarm clock woke everyone in Avalon's dormitory up. There was the usual scuffle and shouting match.

"ARGH!"

"Shut it up!"

"I'm up, I'm up."

"What time is it?"

Ginny finally managed to throw it against the wall. Charlotte frowned at her and repaired it with a sweep of her wand. Avalon laughed, stretched and sat up.

She dressed and pulled up her pillow to slip her nightdress underneath it. She suddenly noticed something was already there.

It was a piece of parchment. She pulled it out and examined it. It was in red ink and printed capitals.

AVALON

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST NIGHT. I SAW YOU. IF YOU EVER FOLLOW ME AGAIN I'LL MAKE YOU VERY SORRY.