10.5 - Jack Sloper is a Good Bloke

Jack Sloper sat on the bench in the great hall and went straight for the roast beef. Somehow, the roast beef was always better here than at home on the farm. It didn't make any sense at all. Andrew sat next to him and upended a plate of lune argentémelon slices onto his plate. Jack could almost see his reflection in the polished silver chunks. It was shinier than it should have been; practically glowing. Maybe the house elves had done something to candy it or something. Regardless, he wasn't eating it. He was a meat and potatoes kind of guy.

Andy was another story. Anything remotely sweet went to the front of the line for him. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Andy spoke without looking at him.

"So then...tonight?"

"About that," Jack toyed with his food. His mum might have given him an earful for that.

"Don't tell me...You lost your nerve. It only works if we both go in at once, Jack!"

"I didn't lose my nerve, Andy."

Andrew set his tableware carefully on his plate and pushed it away. "You promised."

"I didn't either. And besides that, they're just better than us."

"They're the size of elves!"

"Maybe. And that makes it a little sadder," Jack nodded. "I mean, if Cormack, or Dean, or even that big foreign bloke was out there...well, I'd kind of expect them to have a leg around the broom already. Big fellows like that...you've got to think they can put a wallop on a bludger. But the Creeveys? Well, you said it yourself: They're the size of elves and they're still better! Do you know what it takes to for me to admit that?"

Andy turned back to his food. "Just because they can be pretty with the bats..."

"And they can fly faster. And the can hit the bludgers at people, which if you didn't notice, we can't do. And let's face it, they could be the future of the team. I mean, if you were Katie, who'd you rather play? A few seventh-year sods who have about one decent hit a match, or a few sods with some flashes of talent who'll be here another few years?"

"Maybe-"

"No, Andrew. Don't you get it? We just aren't that good. We sometimes manage to block a few, I'll give you that, but we really..." Jack trailed off. He shook his head.

"Mind?" came a voice from behind him. It was Dennis Creevey.

Andrew started to say something but Jack, knowing his friend, cut him off. "As you can see, this is the beater's section!" he waved at the empty spots next to him. Andrew managed a weak smile, and Dennis sat down. "The roast beef is better than anything I've ever had, and we have cows at home. Where's Colin?"

"The house elves upended a pie and it was the spitting image of the Queen," Dennis said. "He stopped to take a photograph! And what kind of cows? My dad's a milkman you know, I know a little about cows!"

"Well, A few Gold Angus and some regular old Highlands."

"Gold Angus! I've never heard of those!"

"Oh, they're huge!" Jack nodded. "Big as twenty wizards...maybe more!"

"Wow!" Dennis breathed.

His brother showed up a second later. "Did you know that berry landed just where her nose should have been? It was as if she was rising through the floor! I though perhaps we were about to get a royal visit!"

"Hey Col! He has Gold Angus! Big as 20 men! And highland!"

"What do you do with a Gold Angus? Can you milk it?"

"Well, it's a cow, so yeah. It's not a milk cow, though. They're for eating."

"What about highlands?"

"Meat."

"What do they taste like?"

"Mostly like haggis and whiskey," Jack nodded. Colin and Dennis both exploded in laughter; Dennis sprayed pumpkin juice all the way to the Ravenclaw table. Andrew slammed down his silverware and stormed out of the great hall.

"Is he mad at us?" Dennis squeaked.

"Naw," Jack said, watching him go. "Just doesn't like cows."