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DANGER DANGER

act one ━ chapter eight

. . . . . .

━ CASPER ROMERO ━
september 1993

          MORGAN WAS LOSING SLEEP OVER HER BRING HERBERT FLEET DOWN PLAN. Her friends would call it idiocy but she prefers inventive. At first, she had been excited. This seemed like a genuine way to cause Herbert pain ─ and she would be at the hand of it, she would contribute to his suffering in the same way that he did to her. Then she became worried it wouldn't work out and she'd just embarrass herself. But this was still very much in the delusional phase ─ she was worried Gryffindor wouldn't win the cup, but Hufflepuff would instead. And Herbert would have beaten her. Again.

          Then came the doubt. What if the plan barely even took off?

          It was the night before her and Jason's first scheduled practice session. No one had booked the practice pitch so Jason reckoned that a few individual players would be training by themselves to better their own skills, rather than their team's.

          Morgan found herself staring at the ceiling of her four-poster bed a lot longer than she had wanted to. And she was almost certain it wasn't Kamilah's snoring that was robbing her of her sleep. She had spent many years with the Jenkins girl's troll-like sleep sounds and had got so used to it, it was like hearing crickets peacefully chirp at this point. No, Morgan was almost certain it was her looming Quidditch practice with her brother that meant her eyes were far from fluttering closed.

          What if she was as terrible as everyone seemed to be sure she was? What if her brother is a dreadful coach? What if she has started too late and won't have enough time to train before tryouts? What if she falls from a great height and plummets to a painful dea─

          She practically launched her covers to the side and jumped out of bed. Morgan was no longer willing to lie awake, torturing herself with the numerous possible disastrous outcomes of this plan she has fixated on. Morgan knew some kind of snack was needed.

          Meticulously tiptoeing around the creakiest of all the floorboards, it was like muscle memory navigating her way through the dark and out down the spiral stairs, the Kitchens being her final destination. Some kind of cheesecake would definitely put her mind at ease enough for her to drift off.

          But as she rounded the corner of the stairwell ─ at what she remembered, by briefly glancing at her clock, was around three o'clock in the morning ─ and into the Gryffindor common room, the fire was still blazing and a figure was perched in the armchair closest to the flames.  A brown head of hair peeked out from the top of the plush cushion and as Morgan got a little closer, she could hear the ruffling of paper and the aggressive scratching of quills.

          It wasn't that surprising that some child had left their homework until the very last minute (Morgan cannot relate; she hates procrastinating), but she will admit that the signs of life at this time of night (technically morning) definitely scared her shitless, and she was no longer that willing to trot across the lounge in her pyjamas, on display for a stranger to see and judge.

          She considered turning back, resulting in a clumsy exchange with herself where she hovered like a seesaw, constantly changing her mind as to where to go and what to do. But after picturing the rather delicious cinnamon cheesecake that she had enjoyed a couple of days ago, followed quickly by a lengthy yawn, Morgan knew what she had to do and that was to brave it. Worse comes to worst she and the mystery student share an awkward interaction where they exchange wonky smiles before she scurries off and prays they are gone by the time she gets back.

          Bracing herself, Morgan slowly walked towards the portrait hole, head facing forward, on a mission. But just as she was beginning to think she had escaped unnoticed, free from any uncomfortable nods, her hand outstretched for the exit, the student cleared their throat, and to her surprise, called out her name.

          Morgan didn't think it was the nearby fire that was making her cheeks feel particularly hot when she registered the friendly Scottish accent.

          Spinning on the spot, her heart in her throat ─ because it was the middle of the night and she was not happy for him to see her in her unseasoned Christmas pyjamas ─ the head of hair now had a face paired with it, as Oliver sat on the edge of the sofa with a messy display of sprawled out parchment.

          She couldn't manage his name and so found herself smiling widely (no teeth, thankfully), her eyes wide with shock.

          "This another one of your masterful plans?" Oliver asked, evidently amused by her attempt at a quick, unnoticed getaway and ultimately failing.

          "Yes," Morgan said, letting out an unprecedented amount of air. "This one is cheesecake related."

          This made him laugh, and his once tense posture disappeared, replaced with relaxed, sagging shoulders.

          "Can't sleep?" He asked, his eyebrows raised.

          "No," she winced, and now found herself glued to this one spot. "Hence the fatty dessert." Her head rocked in the direction of the door she was only just trying to depart silently through. "You the same?"

          "About the cheesecake?" He smiled before his head lolled to the floor with a chuckle. "No, I'm lactose-intolerant. If you're talking about the not being able to sleep part, then yes, me too."

          She grimaced again, but the ice seemed to have been broken so Morgan found herself comfortably strolling over to the boy by the fireplace. "Hm, I don't know any midnight snacks that are lactose-free."

          "Vegetables?"

          "Whatever floats your boat."

          They found themselves laughing but before it had completely died out, Morgan's eyes had wandered to the various papers scattered in front of him.

         He spoke before she could ask about them. "How long have you been up?"

          "Since I got into bed at ten, I suppose," she replied.

          Oliver was the one to offer a sympathetic wince now. "That's rough."

          "Reckon that's not very good the night before Quidditch training right?"

          Oliver shrugged, "I hardly sleep anyway, so I'm probably not the best person to answer that question."

          "Anything Quidditch related you are very much qualified to answer, Oliver," Morgan told him assuredly. "I think I'd trust you over some professionals."

          He held a hand to his chest and bowed his head, "I'm flattered."

          Morgan took the quick pause as her chance to ask Oliver what he was currently drowning in if it was important enough to keep him up. "How are you dealing with your insomnia then, if it's not with dairy sustenance?"

          "Still figuring out the details for this season's training program," he sighed.

          "I thought you had already started?"

          "With the old team, yeah, I guess we have," Oliver replied. "But this is for after tryouts. You know, if we have any new recruits."

          Morgan noticed how his delivery slowed down on that last part and how the fire made his upturning mouth glow orange. "That sounded like conviction to me," she narrowed her eyes onto his and his smile immediately became more evident.

          "You never know," he shrugged, "you might surprise me."

          "I'll take that," she nodded once, feeling a surge of confidence about tomorrow that instantly made her feel a little bit more able to fall asleep. "Can I look?" She pointed at the sheets that Oliver had begun to try and organise into one neater pile, presumably now that someone else was seeing how messy a Captain was with his plans.

          Oliver nodded and gave her a prewarning as she picked up the parchment on the top of the pile of improvised organisation. "My handwriting's a bit of a mess, but sure."

          With the parchment now in her hand, she glazed over the first few sentences, before lifting her gaze to meet his eyes as she told him, "If anything is stopping me from understanding this Quidditch jargon, it's not your handwriting, I assure you."

          Oliver laughed as Morgan proceeded to try and make sense of the boy's new Quidditch program.

          She must have glanced at a couple of words ─ ones she assumed were the balls and different flying techniques? ─ before peering over the top of the page to meet his eyes. "Yep, no clue whatsoever, what any of this means," Morgan said, letting the paper fall onto her lap. "This might as well be in French."

          "Well, if all goes well with whoever is training you then maybe, come next week, you'll understand some of it," Oliver snickered. "Because I assure you," he said, leaning in a little closer as if he was going to tell her a piece of information that was top secret, "it is in English."

          "Could've fooled me," she shrugged and that's when she then realised that she hadn't spoken to Oliver since he caught up to her in the courtyard a couple of days ago and so he wasn't aware of how she had recruited her reluctant brother. "Jason actually agreed to help me, can you believe it?"

          "Frankly, no, but you're in good hands."

          "He would love to hear that in person."

          "I bet he would. Shame he never will."

          "Anything I should know for tomorrow? It's our first session." If anyone was going to have some beginner Quidditch advice, it would most definitely be Oliver Wood.

          "I could give you lots of advice right now but I don't think you'd understand what it means," he recoiled with a timid smile, before quickly offering a makeup: "No offence."

          Morgan shrugged, unbothered as she leant forward to place the paper back where it belonged on his table of disarray. "None taken. You're probably right."

          "I'm sure that you're better than you think you are," the boy promised amiably.

          She knew he was just saying it to be nice but Morgan couldn't help but feel grateful nonetheless. "That's because you've never seen me on a broom before, Oliver."

          "I'm serious," he said, despite laughing. "You'll get the hang of it. And, well, just . . . I dunno . . .," Oliver paused as he tried to find the words most suited to sum up what he wanted to say, "stay on the broom?" he offered, but he still seemed unsure. He really didn't know the extent of Morgan's pre-existing Quidditch abilities. "And maybe don't kill your brother with a beater's bat?"

          Morgan couldn't make any promises on that one. Nor could she promise she could stay on the broom for that matter. "You sure that's not the aim of the game?" She smirked, her elbows now resting on her legs, her head slumped into the palm of her hand.

          Oliver stared down at her sweetly. "It may be in the Samuels' house, but it's definitely not in the eyes of the law."

          "Oh, who cares about the law?" Morgan sighed, her head lolling backwards. "They haven't met my brother."

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          IF THERE IS ONE THING YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT JASON SAMUELS, it's that he doesn't take shit from anyone, or anything, at any time.

          Especially if your name is Morgan Samuels and he has lived with you for sixteen years against his will.

          Agreeing to help the girl mentioned above, was not an easy feat for Jason Samuels and if it weren't for the wrath he would feel from his mother, he would have easily said no. His patience runs thin with his actual teammates ─ Morgan is going to literally pull out his hair.

          Coming up with a practice schedule that was to take place during a short designated period of time was not easy either. Especially when he had to factor in the simple fact that the person he was training was a Quidditch idiot and so the usual drills he would do with his Ravenclaw teammates were null and void. It was going to be interesting.

          But, despite how not diligent he was when it came to his sister, Jason was going to try his best. And that may very well . . . not be enough.

          Morgan didn't end up getting her three AM cheesecake in the end. She found Oliver Wood was enough to put her to sleep. Now, that sounds bad, but, in actual fact, he was very helpful. Morgan found he put her at ease about her first ever "semi-professional" (Jason's words) Quidditch session that she planned to take very seriously and that was all she needed to get to sleep in the end.

          "I think it's doable."

          "I think you're delusional."

          Casper had told Morgan the day before that he wanted to sit in the stands while she and Jason trained together ("Think of it as moral support" he had said) and Bea had overheard. She jumped into the conversation and dropped everything she was doing, which was helping Greg with his Herbology homework so that she could accompany them as they walked to the practice pitch. She thought it was going to be her best shot at convincing Morgan of different ideas.

          After numerous occasions where Morgan had brought up her master plan without sarcasm and with the full intent of going forward with it, as her best friend, Bea had decided to take it upon herself to be as brutal as she could to Morgan with hopes it would get it into the poor girl's head that this was most definitely not going to work.

          So far the remorseless lack of support from Bea had far from discouraged Morgan but actually made her more determined to prove all of her friends wrong.

          "Bea, let's give her a chance," Casper held out his hand so that it whacked Bea in the stomach deliberately, hoping it would aid him to get his point across.

          The wind was a bit nippy, but considering it was still September, the sun was peaking through a few clouds hovering a bit of a way off and Morgan didn't think it would be too harsh for her amateur self to handle. The three of them continued down the sloped green towards the pitch, the castle shrinking behind them.

          "Now, this is a perfect opportunity for a Beatles pun," Casper continued on, "but I'm not going to make one because that's not what supportive friends do, okay?" He directed his words, spoken more like a question, towards Bea, who had her arms crossed and was taking long, pounding strides. When she didn't respond, Casper spoke more sternly, as if warningly, to make sure Bea made an effort. "Have you got that?"

          She rolled her eyes, and let out a large exasperated sigh, making her arms fall to her sides as if she was surprised she was agreeing. "Fine. Whatever," she said, before pointing a finger at Morgan. "Just don't let me down."

          Morgan grinned at her friend. She knew Bea was always on her side but she had an inkling Bea wasn't very supportive of the idea that Morgan even needed to get back at Herbert. Morgan didn't think Bea liked the idea that Herbert was taking up so much of the poor girl's energy, of which he didn't deserve. Bea had good intentions even if she wasn't showing them very well.

          "Ah, now you're doing it." Casper's flashy grin was accompanied by a more teasing pointed finger this time.

          Bea thought about what she had said and was making an assumption when she gushed annoyed: "I didn't know that was a Beatles song!"

          Casper and Morgan both shrugged happily, as the Gryffindor spoke, looping her arm through Bea's. "Too late."

          The practice pitch was in sight now and Morgan became annoyed that there was still a tingling feeling in her fingers. Was it still nervous excitement? But it was her brother ─ a reason for her to be neither of those things.

          She turned to Casper as the three of them descended the hill towards the changing room tents, and she instantly found it weird how she had been to this location more in the last week than she had in her whole life. "Any last tips?"

          "No, because nothing can save you." Bea was sporting a sarcastic grin, adding to this harsh persona she was putting on.

          Morgan spared her a bored expression and physically pushed her to the side so that Bea wandered a little off course and now it was just her and Casper walking in step with each other.

          "Ignore her," Casper said, before briefly turning to look at the girl slacking behind and presenting her with his middle finger. "Just trust yourself," he said to Morgan a moment later. "Stay focused, preferably on the broom, and just remember, this is the first time you're taking Quidditch seriously ─ it's not going to come to you straight away."

          Morgan didn't know whether Casper genuinely thought she could do this but he was just about the only person she had on her side right now. And since she was going to be on a broom in a very public space in a matter of minutes while her brother no doubt aggressively screamed at her, she needed his kind words. "I really appreciate our friendship, Cas."

          "Awh, love you too."

          Just as Morgan was heading into the changing room, hoping that her brother had arrived and was out on the pitch already, in her peripheral vision, she spotted Bea following Casper out to the viewing stands and she stopped what she was doing immediately to spin quickly around.

          "Where do you think you're going?" She asked Bea.

          When the Fisher girl had overheard Casper's plans to watch Morgan's practice, she had said that all she planned to do was walk them down to the pitch. She said nothing about watching. And frankly, it was okay for the Quidditch-knowing Slytherin boy to spectate, but Bea was going to scrutinise her best friend in ways she wasn't even qualified to do.

          Bea turned around to face the questioning Morgan and only smirked. "You didn't think I'd pass up on the opportunity to see your brother in muscle-fit clothes, did you?"

          Throughout her seething, Morgan couldn't find the words to respond and so, desperately, her glassy eyes wandered over to Casper, who nodded dutifully, and latched his hand onto Bea's arm. "I'll keep her on a leash."

          Confident that Casper too didn't want to be embarrassed by Beatrice Fisher swooning over Jason Samuels and so would try his best to keep her placid (hopefully with a muzzle), Morgan got changed and within minutes, she was walking over to her brother on the left end of a moderately empty pitch.

          Jason was on the grassy floor stretching by the time Morgan had arrived, and he squinted his eyes, shielding them as best he could with his hand when he looked up at her. There were two brooms on the floor next to him, alongside a trunk with numerous balls and what Morgan thought was a helmet.

          "Oh," he said, "it's you."

          Morgan popped her hip, placing her hands on top as she glared at her brother, now getting to his feet. "Expecting one of your girlfriends, were you?"

          "Unfortunately not," Jason said, now staring down at Morgan, mirroring her stance.

          Just then, a series of whooping and hollering came from the stands, filling the entire arena. The siblings turned to look at the raised platforms of benches to see Bea on her feet, cheering. Casper jumped to a stand and pulled her back down again like an angered parent.

          Jason turned back to his sister. "She's cheering me, isn't she?"

          "Probably." This was a truth Morgan was beginning to accept.

          "So you ready?" Jason asked, before quickly screwing his eyes shut and shaking his head. "Wait, I should be asking myself that."

          Morgan spared the boy a miffed expression before straightening out her posture and lifting her chin. "Well, I'm so ready," she said. "Let's do this shit."

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          "YOU TOOK LET'S DO THIS SHIT WAY TOO LITERALLY."

          "Are you saying that because I'm shit?"

          "Precisely."

          "Brilliant."

          The Samuels Quidditch training had almost finished and Jason could quite literally see himself throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower if he had to do this ever again. In his eyes, his sister was incompetent. Was she any good? Not really. Was there potential there? Potentially?

          It was no doubt that Jason saw the worst in Morgan because she was his sister but he also saw her as more appalling than she actually was because Jason considered himself better than the average person at Quidditch. So a lot of people were bad in his eyes.

          Over the course of the last hour, Morgan had fallen off her broom approximately twenty-nine times, been hit by a bludger more times than Jason could count, sweated more than she had in her entire life, and felt as though she had bruised her entire body.

          "Again," Jason nodded to the broom that Morgan had dropped so that it lay on the ground by her feet as she stood hunched over her knees, panting for air.

          "Again?" She gasped for some kind of relief, her eyes squinted against the sun. "How?"

          "You're never going to survive a whole match if this is how you are after a few drills," Jason said. He was not injured at all and was only sweating because of the slight heat and because of the many times he had to swoop on his broom to his sister's rescue, even if her dire skills made him want to watch her fall flat on her face more than he should.

          Some of the drills Jason had tried his best to have some kind of success with had been doing laps of the pitch on a broom (she made it about three metres max above the floor), simple muscle-strengthening exercises while he aggressively shouted at her (a prime example would be: "There are no words great enough to describe how painful this is"), and currently she was practising hitting the bludger with the beater's bat while hovering in the air as high as she felt she was capable of. The bat was heavier than she had anticipated, Jason occasionally chased her on his own broom, and the bludger scared Morgan more than their mother does when she is drunk.

          "How long is the average match?" She asked surprised.

          Jason stared at her for a minute, soaking in the tragic sight of his unsavable sister. "I'm going to let you find that one out."

          "Great, great, that's just great," Morgan muttered as she mounted her borrowed broom, retrieving the bat from the floor as she went.

          Jason had put a spell on the bludger so that it would come back to her from different directions once she had hit it ─ which wasn't very often.

          Without warning, Jason found himself ducking, frantically, not to try and avoid the blugder but to avoid the bat that was swinging in his direction from where Morgan could barely aim straight. "Are you trying to kill me?" He asked, cautiously coming to a stand again. It was like the bat was hexed or something the way she was waving it about like a lunatic.

          Morgan had to shout when she replied because she had lost control of the broom (again) and was still trying her best to watch out for the bludger. "Do you want me to answer that seriously?"

          "The English language cannot do your atrocity justice, Morgan."

          "It's day one!"

          It had been exchanges like this one for the whole, almost futile, session ─ Jason berating his sister and Morgan trying her hardest to defend herself. At least by the end of this, she could say she tried something different and that she felt slightly more comfortable on a broom? Merlin, she prayed Hebert would never see her like this.

          Jason tried one more drill to see if she was any good defending. On the ground, of course, he set the charmed Quaffle on his sister so that it flew at her in various directions, and she had to swat it away so it didn't make it through the make-shift goal, made up of two cones.

          She didn't save a single one.

          Jason rubbed his temple with his hand as he said, "Jesus Christ, you're dreadful." Putting on a smile so that he could at least say he was semi-nice, he clapped his hands together, looking brightly at his sister who had collapsed on the floor. "Okay, session over."

          "When's the next one?" She asked staring up at him. Her hair was tangled and her clothes muddy despite it hardly raining over the last week.

          Jason couldn't smile anymore and instead pursed his lips into a straight line. "We'll discuss that another time."

          Having found enough motivation to shower, Morgan got dressed into clean clothes and met Casper and Beatrice outside, the evening drawing near now. She couldn't see their expressions clearly as she trudged over to Casper and Bea as they stood waiting for her outside of the changing room tents. Nor could she read them even when they were close.

          "So?" She asked.

          Bea looked as though she was confused by what she had seen and Casper appeared slightly offended.

          "You were definitely flying," Bea shrugged, trying her best at offering a reassuring smile.

           Casper's shaggy dark hair whipped up as he rapidly turned to look at Bea. Morgan thought he was about to completely rip into her until he spoke, very much unseriously. "I thought you didn't like Beatles puns?"

          Bea groaned as she looked up at the smirking Slytherin. "Is everything a Beatles song title?"

          "You really need to get up to scratch with their discography," Casper nodded slowly, tutting as he went.

          Despite the original comment about her performance not being very positive, Morgan found herself pushing down a growing smile. "Yeah, you have had twenty-three years," she said, joking disappointment at Bea's lack of awareness of how easily the Beatles can slip into conversation.

          Then the sweaty girl of the two remembered why she and her friends were in this particular location in the first place and she once again sighed defeatedly. "But back to me, please."

          Casper and Bea went silent. They exchanged gauche looks before Bea nudged Casper in the side, forcing him to speak first. "You've got time," he offered.

          Bea placed a patronising hand on Morgan's shoulder, even if she meant it in a supportive way. "You'll get there."

          Morgan winced at her own failure. "That's promising? Jason called me a hazard."

          Casper and Bea didn't verbally reply but their cautious glances in each other's directions said enough.

          "And I was right. They're lying to you," a voice came, causing Morgan to shiver a little on the spot until she found herself watching Jason walk past the trio, a large sports bag slung over his shoulder, which he used to deliberately whack Morgan in the leg with.

          "Good thing I didn't ask for your opinion," Morgan scolded at her retreating brother.

          Jason didn't turn around to respond but held up his hand in a quick two-fingered wave. "Good thing I'm never doing that again."

          Morgan's eyes instantly flew open at her brother's statement, but he was already well on his way up the hill to the castle. Being a good foot taller than her, his strides doubled her own and Morgan was calling out to her brother, begging for one more chance, all the way to the Great Hall. Jason didn't say one word to her, despite her best efforts to get a response.

          "How did it go?" Edie was the one to brave asking the question they all wanted to know as the Samuels siblings made their way over to the group, Casper and Bea trailing along behind.

          Jason stopped in the middle of the aisle, his shoulders slumped, sweat beading his forehead, staring at them as if he was staring into an abyss hoping it would swallow him up.

          The simple fact that not one of the four people that had witnessed Morgan's early-stage Quidditch skills had spoken since their arrival ─ Morgan was tugging at her jumper and that said enough ─ prompted Kira to speak up. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say not so good?"

          "That would be a gross understatement," Jason deadpanned. Morgan was irritated immediately that her brother was the one that got to respond to her friend's question before she did.

          "Now, now," Casper stepped in, walking around the stationary Jason so he could be seen and get his point across, "there was some progress." He and Bea took a seat but Morgan didn't seem to have the capabilities to move her legs at this given moment.

          "Yeah," Jason scoffed, "because before today she struggled with hovering on a broom."

          "Any other comments, dear brother?" Morgan smiled sarcastically but only because she felt as though she would cry otherwise.

          Jason then practically staggered over to his sister's friends' spot at the Gryffindor table, and, as if he deserved it, slumped down into the empty spot beside Bea. He was quick to help himself with all the food in the world in an attempt to regain all the energy he had lost to his sister's terrible flying abilities.

          "She's useless," he said, his voice low as he still tried to get his breath back. "Put her on a broom and she's like a stoned fish out of water."

          Jason had his back to Morgan, pretending she didn't exist, but she continued to pull an offended face like what he was saying hadn't any truth at all. "I like to think I'm more like Bambi on ice."

          "Oh, sweetie no." Kira cooed, cocking her head to the side and staring up at Morgan.

          Kira had had the pleasure of playing Quidditch with Morgan just this last summer gone when everyone visited the Fleet household. Morgan only agreed to play because Herbert asked her to. She was just as bad as Jason was describing. Kira lost hours of her life she will never get back.

           Jason was shovelling a highly stacked sandwich into his mouth, as it overflowed with lettuce and ham as if he was going to keel over if he didn't feed himself. "Can't you just get someone else to teach you?" He asked disgusted. "I seriously think if I ever have to try that again, I'll explode."

          Morgan didn't think it was very fair that Jason had only given her one chance but if he was going to continue to put down her hopes then she might as well have a go at trying to recruit someone else.

           Trying not to pull an appalled expression at her brother's bad table manners, she turned to Casper, clasped her hands together and asked sweetly, "Cas?"

          Casper forced himself to look past Morgan's softened puppy eyes because he too had been at the Fleet's home that fated day and he could tell Morgan hadn't improved much in one session with her brother. "Honey, I hate to say it but there's no helping you." He was only being nice earlier ─ she was doomed no matter what.

          Morgan's shoulders sagged. If her brother wasn't going to give her the benefit of the doubt and if she was as hopeless as Casper seemed to believe, she was beginning to think she might have to look for alternative ways to get back to her ex-boyfriend (non-Quidditch related).

          "Why can't the captain of the team you're actually trying to get on teach you?" Jason said, finally taking a breath from eating aggressively fast. "Don't make it our problem." He nodded in Casper's direction, referring to the houses of Ravenclaw and Slytherin collectively.

          Morgan only entertained the idea for a moment. She found her gaze slowly wandering over to where Oliver was sitting a few people over. He seemed so peaceful as if he was finally coming to terms with whatever had been bothering him for the last couple of weeks. She didn't want to disturb that or bother him with her own issues that she couldn't handle. It wasn't fair to dump her petty problems onto a boy who seemed to already be carrying a lot, even if she was running out of options.

          "I don't know Oliver well enough," Morgan said, turning back to her friends and brother, trying to retake control of the situation Jason had manhandled enough already.

          Morgan was expecting her brother to be the one to respond, so she was surprised to hear Edie's sweet voice speak first. "Then get to know him," she shrugged innocently and Morgan didn't like what she was suggesting by that glint in her eyes. If Edie wanted to play that game, Morgan was perfectly happy to share some interesting information that she learned in Potions class just the other week . . .

          But Morgan barely had time to scowl at whatever Edie was suggesting because it was at that moment ─ that awfully timed moment ─ that Oliver neatly pushed his cutlery into the middle of his plate, got up from his bench, and headed towards the exit, passing the Samuels' argument in the process.

          Morgan was hoping the Scot would simply walk past with a polite smile and then leave the discussion all together but Jason had other plans. "Wood!"

          Oliver stopped abruptly, clearly not expecting any kind of interaction with Jason Samuels at any point today. It wasn't as though the two of them were good friends. "Alright, Samuels?" He said, his forehead creasing enough for them all to detect the confusion.

          "Take my sister off my hands will you?" Jason spoke tiredly, jerking his head in Morgan's direction, his sandwich still clutched in his two hands.

          Morgan couldn't believe what she was hearing and practically face-palmed herself in a split second. You don't just say that to someone you hardly know, Jason! "Merlin-"

          The creases on Oliver's head multiplied and were now accompanied by a look of concern and the furrowing of his brows. "I'm not sure that's how it works."

          "Can't you teach her how to fly?" Jason rephrased, and that only shed a little light on the strange conversation Jason Samuels had pulled Oliver into without warning. "She's your housemate, and frankly, I have to deal with her enough back home, so it's only fair for someone else to entertain her ridiculous ideas."

          Morgan's insides were screaming and she had never wanted to slap her brother more in this moment than all of her sixteen years previously. It was disturbing how he said anything that graced his stupid mind. "Ignore him, Oliver," Morgan pleaded, trying desperately to save herself from the mess her brother had dumped her in. "You shouldn't have to─"

          "Okay."

          Morgan promised the whole room went quiet. Oliver stood normally, his expression casual, his voice equally nonchalant. She can't quite tell if she saw him shrug or not because frankly, what he had said didn't make enough sense for her to figure out the rest of what his body language was saying.

          She stared blankly at him for a moment, ─ she tried desperately not to, but to no avail ─ blinking a couple of times and making sure her friends were hearing this absurd answer too. "What?"

          "Yeah, what?" Morgan was pretty sure this was Kira, choking on her bread roll.

          Jason rolled his eyes, faced forward once more, and was happy to put all of his focus back onto his meal. "Finally."

          "I said okay," Oliver said, still completely unbothered. He didn't even seem that affected by the series of dumbfounded looks he was getting. "I don't have a lot of free time though, so I'd have to squeeze you in when I can."

          Morgan continued to stare, her mouth falling open slightly. Realising how odd she looked she straightened herself out, swallowed once, and then asked, "You're seriously going to help me?" Her brows knitted in confusion and that could not be helped.

          "Why not?"

          Morgan ─ and Jason, for that matter ─ could think of many reasons why Oliver wouldn't want to help her learn how to fly and, at this point, she was struggling so much to figure out why he had already agreed, that she decided to give it to him plain: "I really am dreadful."

          "Now she admits it," Jason scoffed.

          For once, Morgan didn't want to defend herself or throw her brother a foul look because he was right and Oliver deserved to know the extent of her shitty (non-existent) Quidditch skills. "Like I even struggle to catch let alone fly at the same time."

          Jason leaned back in his chair so that he could poke his head into the conversation happening in the aisle a little behind and to the left of him. "She's sugarcoating it."

          Oliver briefly looked over at the interjecting Ravenclaw and could only huff in amusement, before he turned back to Morgan and offered her a simple shrug. "I like Quidditch," he said, struggling to understand why this was such a big deal. "And I like that you're ambitious. I'm seriously okay with it."

          Casper let out a slow exhausted breath. "You're braver than me."

          A tickled look graced Oliver's features just then until he politely smiled Morgan's way. "I've got to run but I'll see you in the common room later and we'll sort it all out then yeah?"

          Morgan had to replay that entire conversation with Oliver along with her performance in practice with her brother earlier in order to try and formulate a response. Her body nodded but she doesn't remember her brain telling her neck to do that.

          By the time she stuttered out her breathless and still bewildered response, Oliver was grinning his goodbye and walking away out of the hall. "Oh o-okay."

          The Gryffindor girl was still staring out towards the exit, her eyes following the boy in a bamboozled state, while Jason was the first one to speak since that puzzling outcome. "Maybe he's the stoned fish?"

          Morgan's gaze was broken instantly, and her eyes snapped over to her brother. If looks could kill, Jason would have keeled over by now.

          But Jason didn't understand his sister's evil pout. He had got her a willing trainer; one that wasn't related to her and didn't therefore have a vendetta against the poor girl. Oliver Wood was a friendly young boy and Jason was not. As far as he was concerned, she should be thanking him.

          Jason mirrored her dirty look. "You're welcome?"