Chapter 33: Eventful Spring

The consequences of Sirius’ prank didn’t seem catastrophic at first glance, but the fallout lingered like the bitter aftertaste of a poorly-brewed potion. Sirius had gone unusually quiet for several days, his trademark arrogance muted, and his camaraderie with Remus had turned noticeably frosty. It wasn’t hard to guess why Remus, the steady moral compass of the group, had clearly learned the details and wasn’t remotely amused. Tension crackled between them during meals and in the common room, though it eventually eased with time and, likely, a few sheepish apologies behind closed doors.

Meanwhile, Potter had taken to glaring at Rick with the kind of seething resentment usually reserved for Slytherins who hexed his broom. The atmosphere during Quidditch practice was thick with barely-concealed animosity. James’s usual charm was nowhere to be found, replaced by curt commands and clipped retorts, especially whenever Rick was nearby. The tension wasn’t lost on the rest of the team either, and every session felt like tiptoeing through a minefield of unresolved teenage drama.

With the graduation of Eva Johnson the previous year, James Potter claimed the role of Chaser during the September tryouts with the same flair he brought to every room he entered equal parts charm and chest-puffing bravado. Sirius, never one to be left in the shadows, landed the position of Beater after Battista hung up his broom to focus on NEWTs. Predictably, James’ ego inflated like a weather balloon, but no one could deny his skill; he and a broomstick were a match made in adrenaline-soaked heaven.

Frank Longbottom, the long-suffering captain, had his hands full keeping the theatrics in check. But credit was due where it’s due he was a natural leader, managing to herd the chaotic Gryffindor squad into a functional, even formidable, team. The season had gone well two wins under their belt but so had Hufflepuff’s. The two houses were neck and neck in the standings, and Frank, determined to clinch the cup in his final year, ramped up the intensity of practices. The team wasn’t just training they were practically living on the pitch, bruises and all, with Longbottom barking encouragement like a general preparing for war.

Potter’s treatment of Snape had grown even crueler, his insults sharper and his pranks bordering on outright bullying. Not that Snape took it lying down he gave as good as he got, sometimes worse. If the whispered rumors were true, Snape had started using borderline Dark magic in their duels.

His relationship with Lily, once unshakable, was fraying fast. They still called each other friends, but it was in name only. Lily hated the direction he was heading the flirtation with the Dark Arts, the smug camaraderie with the worst of the pureblood elitists in his House, and most of all, the veiled threats those same Slytherins hurled at her and other muggle-borns. They had argued more and more in public, tension snapping like a live wire every time they were in the same room.

Rick and Marlene could both see the inevitable this friendship was on life support. Rick did his best to be there for Lily even though he doubted it would change the outcome. Marlene, as ever, opted for brutal honesty, calling Snape out and pushing Lily to open her eyes. That led to a massive, explosive fight between the two girls that ended with Lily crashing in Rick’s dorm for several nights, emotionally spent. They eventually patched things up, but an unspoken rule was born from that fight: they would never discuss Severus Snape again.

The two blondes of the trio Rick and Marlene could immediately tell Lily was spiraling emotionally when she suddenly became the unofficial cheer captain of Gryffindor. In the weeks leading up to the final Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, she threw herself into house spirit with manic determination like designing enchanted banners that changed slogans mid-air.

When she wasn’t furiously brewing potions or crafting banners, she was having near-daily OWL anxiety attacks. The library and the potions lab became her dual sanctuaries and battlegrounds. She brewed potions for every imaginable sports injury Rick might suffer, even though Madam Pomfrey had her entire arsenal ready and then some. Still, Lily had been right to prepare: the final match turned out to be one of the most brutal in recent memory, a thunderstorm of bludgers, egos, and raw determination. And through it all, her frantic energy seemed less about house pride and more like someone trying to focus on anything but a heartbreak she hadn’t fully admitted to yet.

The badgers had unearthed an absolute gem of a Keeper this season tall, quick, and seemingly part Quaffle-repellent charm. He turned away shot after shot, leaving Gryffindor’s Chasers visibly frustrated and the crowd roaring with every save. After a full hour of heart-pounding, sky-slicing play, the scoreboard still showed a razor-thin lead of 40-30 in favor of the black-and-yellow-clad Hufflepuffs.

From the stands, it was clear as crystal: this match wouldn’t be decided by brute force or strategic formations. No, this was going to be a Seekers’ duel to the death or at least until one of them got lucky enough to outwit the other and snag that elusive golden Snitch. All eyes were skyward, breaths held, and knuckles white around Gryffindor banners.

Twice, Amelia and Rick had clashed in breathtaking mid-air duels for the golden Snitch. But each time, the Beaters on both teams had proven ruthlessly effective in breaking up their attempts. Rick had caught a bludger to the side of the face, the impact so brutal it left one eye swollen nearly shut, distorting his depth perception and tilting the odds against him.

Spectators watching from the stands began murmuring that this match was Amelia’s to win. And under normal circumstances, they might’ve been right. But Amelia was hardly faring better. Her dominant wrist was broken Dee had landed a truly wicked shot and her right hip throbbed with every movement, the aftermath of a crushing hit from Sirius. She winced every time she shifted, each jolt of pain a brutal reminder of the toll the match had taken. Yet, true to her nature, Amelia said nothing. She gritted her teeth, forced herself upright, and kept flying defiant and stubborn to the core.

It all came to a head when, out of nowhere, Rick spotted the glint of the Snitch fluttering near the Ravenclaw stands. Without hesitation, he dove after it like a hawk on the hunt, every nerve in his body electrified. Amelia, despite the twenty-foot gap between them, closed the distance frighteningly fast thanks to her superior broom, drawing level with him in a matter of seconds. They spiraled through the sky in tight pursuit, weaving between players and bludgers like fireflies in a storm.

The Snitch darted and dipped like it had hell on his tail, and when the two seekers found themselves flying shoulder to shoulder, Rick acted on pure reflex. With no time to think, he twisted sharply into a barrel roll, ending up inverted just as a bludger whistled toward him from his blind spot. The dodge was clean but the deflection sent the bludger hurtling straight into Amelia’s already battered hip. The sickening crack of impact echoed over the pitch, followed by her anguished scream as her broom wobbled violently. She veered off course, clutching her side, and the chase was left to Rick.

He hadn’t even realized Amelia was no longer beside him his entire world had shrunk to the fluttering blur of gold just beyond his reach. He chased the Snitch with reckless intensity, but with only one working eye, judging distance was a nightmare. Every time he lunged, his hand came up just shy, fingers grazing nothing but air. Desperation built with every missed attempt until, in a final act of sheer willpower, he flung his arm forward one last time just as a bludger slammed into the side of his head with a sickening crack. The force ripped him off his broom, and a collective gasp tore through the stands as Rick began to plummet from seventy feet in the air like a stone dropped from the heavens.

Thankfully, Rick managed to yank out his wand mid-fall and cast a desperate Accio for his broom. It came shooting toward him, but the distance was vast he only managed to grab it when he was barely fifteen feet from the ground. With no time to mount properly or pull up in a traditional swoop, he had to improvise. Clutching the handle with one arm, he yanked with all the force he could muster while simultaneously kicking the tail end downward with his full body weight, attempting to torque the broom’s orientation into a last-second redirection. It was reckless, borderline suicidal and it was all he had.

It worked barely. Instead of smashing headfirst into the earth, Rick’s broom leveled out just in time, skimming the ground with terrifying speed. For the briefest of moments, he was upright, standing atop his broom like a surfer riding a deadly wave. But that fleeting triumph didn’t last. The tail of the battered Nimbus 1000 scraped violently against the pitch, and years of wear, despite good maintenance, and the strain of Rick’s full weight proved too much. The wood snapped with a sharp, splintering crack.

Rick was launched from the shattered broom like a ragdoll, hitting the ground with bone-jarring force and tumbling a dozen feet before coming to a halt. The crowd had barely begun to process what happened when a collective gasp rippled through the stadium. There, protruding grotesquely from his abdomen, was the broken handle of his broom bloodied and buried deep, a gruesome result to the cost of his daring maneuver.

If it hadn’t been for Marlene holding her tightly, Lily would’ve collapsed on the spot. And she wasn’t alone Dorea looked ready to tear through every barrier between her and Rick, only held back by Charlus’s firm grip. The Potters never missed a Quidditch match when their son played, using the events as rare moments to be together as a family. But this match had turned from celebration to nightmare in an instant.

Rick was evacuated with terrifying speed to the Infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey immediately leapt into action. The chaos that followed could have made front-page news. Dorea stormed the room like a bat out of hell, still hidden under her glamour charm, demanding to see him. A row nearly broke out until, in one decisive move, she dropped the glamour revealing herself in full and shut down all objections from McGonagall and Dumbledore with nothing more than her credentials and glare. As a certified healer far above the rank of medi-witch, she was not only allowed to assist she outranked everyone in the room.

The procedure was harrowing. They had to carefully remove the broken broom handle embedded in Rick’s abdomen, then extract each shard and splinter that had wormed their way into not just his stomach, but his liver and even one of his lungs. It was a painstaking, nerve-racking operation that stretched on for hours. No one dared to leave the infirmary. No one could even speak. It was a battle of endurance and grit, and Dorea led it like a general on a warfront.

Beyond the closed curtain, where the magical surgery unfolded in an agonizing silence, Marlene and Lily sat like statues carved from raw nerves. Lily trembled with silent sobs, her face buried in her hands, while Marlene gripped her shoulder so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Charlus, having abandoned his glamour like it was dead weight, raided Pomfrey’s cabinet. He handed calming draughts to the girls like a battlefield medic in the trenches. He took a swig himself, then wordlessly offered one to a visibly shaken McGonagall, who accepted it with a tight nod.

The room was so quiet it felt like the walls were holding their breath. Only Lily’s muffled weeping punctuated the tension. Then clink. A tiny, metallic sound echoed through the infirmary like a gunshot in the silence, followed by the gentle roll of something small skittering across the floor.

All heads snapped toward it. A bloody Snitch, its wings limp and spattered crimson, rolled out from beneath the curtain like a silent herald. It bumped gently against McGonagall’s shoe. She bent down, eyes wide, and summoned it into her hand , clutching it like it was both sacred and cursed.

After six grueling hours of magical surgery, the curtain finally parted, revealing Dorea with a weary yet triumphant smile on her face. A collective breath of relief swept through the room like a cleansing breeze. The knot of fear in everyone’s chest loosened at once. But Dorea didn’t stop to bask in the moment true to her healer’s instincts, she moved on immediately to tend to Amelia, who had been sedated and tucked into a bed nearby.

Amelia’s injuries weren’t life-threatening, but they were excruciating. Cracked bones, nerve inflammation, internal bruising nothing minor, even for a young witch. It was Charlus who stepped in, administering a sleeping draught from Madam Pomfrey’s stores. When McGonagall raised a sharply arched brow and reminded him he wasn’t certified to administer healing, Charlus had countered coolly that calming and sleeping draughts weren’t technically healing. And after spending three decades married to one of the finest healers in magical Britain, he added with a cheeky smirk, he could recognize potions with his eyes closed and a wand tied behind his back.

Once Amelia was resting comfortably, Dumbledore offered the Potters the use of his personal Floo to return home. He didn’t press, didn’t prod, didn’t even let a glimmer of knowing show on his face. But there was a subtle shift in the way he addressed them, a silent acknowledgment that he understood the nature of their bond with Rick. Whatever suspicions he harbored, he chose discretion over confrontation, allowing them the privacy they clearly valued.

When Rick finally woke up two days later, he found himself surrounded by a miniature mountain of “get well soon” gifts homemade sweets, enchanted cards that sang off-key, and even a crocheted lion scarf someone had attempted (with... mixed results). The moment Lily and Marlene saw his eyes flutter open, they nearly tackled him with affection, both of them clinging to him like koalas on a sugar high. Madam Pomfrey had to intervene quickly, grumbling something about punctured lungs not healing through suffocation-by-hugs.

Returning to the Gryffindor common room was like stepping into a surprise victory parade. The entire house erupted into cheers, giving him a standing ovation that felt more like a rockstar encore than a Quidditch recovery. The party that followed completely ignored the inconvenient fact that it was a Wednesday night and exams were just around the corner. Butterbeers flowed freely under strict surveillance, of course, with Frank Longbottom inspecting every bottle like a grumpy pub bouncer.

Frank himself was beaming with a pride so enormous it could’ve had its own orbit. He cradled the Quidditch Cup like a newborn, retelling Rick’s daring midair Snitch grab to anyone who stood still for more than five seconds. His fiancée, Alice Fortescue, watched from the corner with an amused, tolerant smile, like someone who’s long accepted that her fiancé’s second great love was a large silver trophy with handles.

Amelia had popped by Rick’s bedside now and then, arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips as she called him a “bloody, stupid, reckless Gryffindor” in that teasing, fond tone that softened every word. Despite her injuries and the fact that she technically lost the match she showed no bitterness, only deep relief that he was alive and well. Her competitiveness had always been fierce, but it never outweighed her heart. "Bloody show-off," she muttered once, brushing a hand over his hair before walking out, not quite hiding the way her eyes shimmered with emotion.

Exam time came barreling in like an angry hippogriff, but Rick handled it as usual. He aced every written exam with the same ease others reserved for blinking. When it came time for practicals, he found himself once again last on the list thanks to that lovely 'W' at the start of his surname. It meant extra waiting, extra pacing, and the joy of listening to everyone else stress out beforehand. But Rick used the time to rehearse spells under his breath and triple-check his wandwork cool, collected, and more than ready to obliterate expectations.

“That’s quite the powerful patronus, Mister Wald.” the examiner remarked.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I wonder what kind of memory you used to produce it.”

“I’m afraid that’s a secret.” Rick replied with a knowing smile.

He wasn’t about to tell the examiner that the memory he’d used was his very first time with Lily on the Hogwarts Castle. It had been unexpected, and deeply intimate. What made it unforgettable wasn’t the act itself, but the way she’d looked at him in that moment when he sheathed his whole cock inside her pussy like he was her whole world, like there was no one else on the train, in the school, in the universe. That one gaze, filled with trust and fierce affection, had etched itself into his soul. It was, without question, the happiest moment of his life so far.

“Well, that was to be expected. Now go on with the knowledge you don’t have to worry about your grade. Not in DADA at least.”

Of course he didn’t need to worry about his grade. He had produced a full corporeal patronus for his OWL. A defensive charm that very few wizards and witches could use even among the aurors. Exiting the exam room he went to the Great Hall for dinner and to his surprise didn’t find his best friends waiting for him. Evans and McKinnon were way up the alphabet and so they had been done with the DADA practical exam long ago.

“They’re at the Black Lake.” Alice said when he asked her if she knew where Lily and Marlene were. “I don’t think they will come up for dinner.”

“Why?”

“From the rumors going around there has been an altercation between Lily, her friend in Slytherin, and Potter and his friends in the afternoon.”

“Thank you, Alice.” he said while frowning.

He asked for sandwiches and packed them inside a napkin he had made bigger. With food ready he exited the Great Hall and went to the one spot Lily went every time she was really upset. A single tree near the edge of the water. As expected he found them here. Marlene saw him coming and shook her head while Lily’s head was in her lap. As he got closer she saw the tear stains on his girlfriend’s face and it made his blood boil. He wanted to know what happened but he knew now wasn’t the time.

When Lily opened her eyes and saw him she began to have a crying fit again. Raising for Marlene’s lap she dived into his chest and sobbed harder than ever. Rick held her as tightly as he could giving her all his love and hoping it would take her pain away. It seemed to have worked as after a few minutes she fell asleep in his arms out of exhaustion.

“What the fuck happened, Mar?”

“Potter happened. He ambushed Snape at the lake and completely humiliated him in front of everyone. Made him dangle in the air by his ankle and stripped him down to his underwear. The arsehole was laughing proud of himself. Lily intervened and Snape, instead of thanking her for putting him back down, called her a filthy…”

“Mudblood?” he asked, seeing her hesitation.

“Yeah. She put an end to their friendship here and there by calling him by his last name. She was so gracious about it. She didn’t yell or scream, she was all business-like. It’s only when she left that the crying began.”

Rick took a deep breath to calm himself down. He was of the mind to go back up to the castle and tear down Potter and Snape limb from limb. Lily was his priority however and he let that thought go for the moment.

“Come on, Let’s put her to bed.”

He stood up and carried Lily in his arms. Marlen got on her feet too and both went back to the castle through the less frequented corridors at this time of the day. Things turned a bit problematic when they reached the common room. Snape was waiting there with a very apologetic expression on his face. Rick asked Mrlene to make Lily float, which she did. He pulled out his wand and went to Snape. Before the boy could utter a single word, Rick bound and silenced him against the side wall.

“I’ve never cared that you were a Slytherin. I’ve never cared what kind of friends you had or what you did. I’ve never cared about you. The only thing I ever cared about are my best friends and today… Today you made one of them cry when she’s done nothing to deserve it. Many people told her to simply stop hanging with you, told her you were no better than the future death munchers you spend your time around, told her that you were not a good person and told her she was better off without you in her life. She fought them all. She argued that you weren’t like they said you were and that they judged without knowing who you really were. She believed in you. And you made her cry.” At this point the tip of his wand emitted a green eerie light and he put it very close to Snape's face. “I don’t know if she’ll forgive you. Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. I honestly don’t care. What I do know is that if you make her cry again… No one will ever find your body and no one will even care to search for it.”

Rick turned around and joined Marlene, who had already opened the passage to their Common Room a few feet away. Without a word, he scooped Lily back into his arms, cradling her as though she were something fragile and precious. The corridor was quiet, the castle dim in the late hour, and as he carried her inside, every step echoed with silent purpose. He didn’t hesitate or speak just walked straight to his bedroom, carrying her like a promise he fully intended to keep.

“We’re all bunking up in my room tonight. If McGonagall says something, I’ll take the blame.” Marlene said nothing about it but since she followed him up to his room she clearly didn’t object.

He put Lily on the spare bed and used his wand to enlarge his own. He transfigured Lily’s clothes into cute Gryffindor Pajamas and put her under the sheet.

“I’m taking a shower, I’ll be back.”

He removed his clothes, took his towel and went to the bathroom. Instead of going for hot water he went for cold. The threat he had given Snape kept flashing in his mind. The only reason the Slytherin was still alive was because Marlene was present. He hadn’t felt angry, nor had he felt murderous. He had felt nothing when he had threatened his yearmate. In his eyes, Snape had been an obstacle to Lily’s happiness, the source of her pain and needed to be removed. A bug on the windshield of a car and needed to be squashed.

‘Black madness, huh? I really need to talk to mom more about it. Were it not for Marlene…’

“Waaa, that’s cold!”

Turning around, Rick saw a very naked Marlene stepping confidently into the shower, her expression both mischievous and warm. Without hesitation, he flicked the water temperature from cold to hot, steam quickly rising between them as tension melted into something far more electric.

“Aaaah! Much better.” the blonde said as she got close enough to him to invade his personal space. She embraced him and gave him a very loving kiss. “You were so hot when you threatened him. Honestly I thought you were going to kill him.”

“I wanted to. He’s only alive because you were there and because of Lily.”

“I figured as much.” she replied letting her arms go around him to fondle his butt while pushing her big chest against him.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

“I know it’s not the time, not with Lily… But you made me horny as hell and I don’t think I will be able to hold myself back in bed even with Lily with us. Besides, you clearly need to unwind.”

“I do not.”

“What is that then?” she inquired as she grinds herself against his hard as steel cock. “You are all tense. I’m all tense. Let’s take care of that quickly so we can go back to Lily and focus on her.”

Without thinking, Rick picked her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and pinned her against the warm, mist-slicked tiles with his whole body. The steam curled around them like smoke, muffling the outside world as if it no longer existed beyond the cascade of water and heat. For a breathless heartbeat, all that remained was her body pressed to his, the tension crackling like a live wire between their skin.

“Hard and fast.” she whispered sultrily

He obliged her.