Katie’s expression went flat in the ‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me’ sort of way when he called her Jingle Bell. Merlin’s sagging tits, as if she hadn’t heard _that_ one a million times in her short life. A muscle in her jaw twitched at his obnoxious smirk. She wanted nothing more than to draw her wand and blast his fucking face off. He’d been the bane of her existence at Hogwarts, and the past few years hadn’t much improved him, she decided. Well, his teeth had been fixed, but that was like putting a coat of paint on a pile of shit and claiming it was better.

“That a threat?” She queried, doing her best to keep her temper under wraps. Merlin, let him say yes. It would feel so _good_ to return fire and break _him_ in half. She wasn’t seventeen and cursed anymore. Playing with the Falcons, even in the reserves, had turned her body into compacted iron, and the war had forged her into steel. 

He was laughing at her. Katie’s blood rushed through her ears, her fists clenching, nails biting through the flesh of her palm. She was going to fucking kill him—he grabbed her arm forcibly, moving her with annoying ease out of the path of one of the numerous half-trolls that populated the British Irish League. His grip was like a fucking vice—she wouldn’t be surprised if she had bruises. 

And, more annoyingly, he blamed the near collision on her.  Katie was proud that she didn’t wince when he forcibly patted her arm. Her brown eyes narrowed, burning with barely restrained rage. It was a small wonder she hadn’t set him on fire. Her chin jut out defiantly, fists clenched at her sides. He was significantly taller and larger than she was, but she had no doubts that she could outmaneuver him. People always underestimated her, and she was more than happy to take advantage of that. Even with her fucked up leg, Katie Bell was a force to be reckoned with.

“Let me be clear, Flint, and I’ll use simple words so you can follow along; if anyone’s getting broken in half, it’s sure as hell not going to be me. Fucking try me. I return fire with interest.” She paused, then continued condescendingly, “You do know what _interest_ is, right?”

His team was arriving. Even Katie wasn’t stupid enough to pick a fight with all his mates around him. She tossed her blonde hair out of her face imperiously, hitching her bag better across her shoulder as she stepped away. She recognized his team—Katie made it a point to know her enemy—and their Captain’s flagrant disrespect made her lip curl in distaste. _What a piece of work_, she mused with a derisive scoff. It warmed her bitter little heart to see Flint get treated like shit. At the series of _pops_ all around her, Katie took her cue and apparated herself.


The Falmouth Falcon’s stadium was a fucking zoo when she arrived. Reporters had swarmed the apparition zone, cameras flashing and voices raised in alarm. A camera and a quill were shoved in her face the instant she arrived, and it took everything in her power not to fire off a blasting curse at the offenders.

“Miss Bell, what do you have to say about these dreadful allegations? Fact? Vicious rumors spread by rivals?” Rita’s cutting voice was loudest over the din, and Katie’s eyes narrowed. What on earth was going on? She shoved past, ignoring the indignant gasp and scratching of the emerald quill, and made her way through the crowd into the stadium and the team locker room.

She didn’t expect to find the entire team there, starting string and reserve. She certainly didn’t expect the team’s owner, Gutaale, a stout and swarthy wizard to be at the head of the crowd. He looked grim, his heavy brows furrowed over his calculating eyes. Katie dropped her bag by an empty patch of bench, seating herself as she examined the crowd. No… not everyone was here. The starting chasers were all gone. She’d know if Johannes was here—he was nearly seven feet tall, he was not the sort of dude who hid in a crowd. And wherever Johannes was, Kyle and Orion were sure to be close by. Shit, Santiago was gone too.

“Is that everyone?” The Falcon’s manager, a slim and cagey looking wizard with a wiry moustache, asked. She stared. How did Petyr not realize they were missing four people? It wasn’t like Petyr didn’t know them—shit, he’d remembered her birthday and inquired after her kneazle and she was just a reserve chaser. He wasn’t uninvolved. Her fellow Falcons were a mix of disgusted and enraged.

“Yes,” Gutaale’s deep baritone seemed to rumble through the whole locker room. His voice was steady, but… exhausted. Saddened. “As I’m sure some of you already know, thanks to the vermin at the gates… four of our players have been detained by the Ministry. It disturbs me to say it, but Johannes, Orion, Kyle and Santiago have all been charged with war crimes. Apparently, we had Death Eaters in our ranks.”

Katie boggled. The locker room remained totally silent. No. No fucking way. She had fucking played with Santiago and he wasn’t… he couldn’t have been... she’d seen his arm a million times, he didn’t have the mark. He… fuck, they’d gone drinking together, he’d crashed in her _flat_ dozens of times when he was too plastered to apparate. Oh Merlin, no…

“They’ve been taken to Azkaban. We’re on a temporary suspension while the Ministry investigates the rest of us. They’re going to want to prove that we were helping them. So let me be blunt; if you were, you need to be gone by the end of the day. The Ministry will find out if you were collaborating and I can’t guarantee their Aurors will get to you first.” He paused, then inclined his head towards a thick man with a heavy beard. “Gregory here is our point of contact with the Auror’s office. He’ll be conducting the investigations and providing protection for everyone who passes.”

“We will all be practicing together from here on out,” Fenrir, their Seeker and Captain, remarked quietly. Fenrir never needed to shout. When he spoke, everyone listened. He was the best damn Seeker in the League in Katie’s opinion, fair to his teammates and utterly brutal when it came to the game. “We’re going to rebuild. Completely. This will not break us. We’re going to get back into the season and we will crush anyone who dares to question our honor.”

“All contracts are being renegotiated,” Gutaale intoned. “If you are first string and you get cut, you will be paid for this season and released to the pool. Reserve players who do not make the team will be cut and paid as well.”

Well… shit. Katie glanced about the room to gauge her teammate’s reactions. They varied from grim acceptance to outrage and the room erupted in a swell of voices. Katie squeezed her leg. This was her chance. She was going to make the team or fucking die trying.