Keelan Walsh wears, for once, plain black robes with no hint of team affliation. This is rare enough at a game against Ravenclaw, but it seems she’s either had a talking-to or a rethink over the summer break about bias in Quidditch. Maybe her red robes were just dirty. At any rate, she’s standing underneath her umbrella in the center of the pitch, squinting out toward the locker rooms of each team, trying to spot red or blue robes coming through the downpour.

Riley Markham makes his way on to the pitch with a soft yawn, his pale skin sizably more alabaster than tanned under the chilling effect of all the rain. Broom draped avross his shoulders, he waits to kick off anxiously. Growing more nervous by the minute.

Nervously Andy walks onto the pitch, his broom in hand and his robes getting soaking wet in seconds. Looking up to the dark clouds he mutters to Keira “Hm, great.” Then his hands slip into his gloves as he lines up with his teammates, waiting for Keelan’s initial whistle blow.

Boyce Gardener follows behind Riley quietly, trying to hold on to the excitement he felt in the changeroom, and dismiss the nervousness that was trying creep up in to his belly. He carries his broom much more traditionally, though the damp air keeps causing the broomhandle to slip from his fingers.

Quincy Matthias lumbers out onto the pitch, making some crack about the weather to his teammates and hoisting his broom over his shoulder for now. The rain doesn’t otherwise seem to bother him, though he uses his spare hand (beater bat tucked under an arm) to push hair off his forehead.

Rhian says, “Good afternoon everyone, students and faculty alike. Today is a lovely autumn day, if you are a duck perfect for the first Quidditch game of the 1927-28 year. I am Rhian Brecon, your announcer for this year, and for those of you unable to see, I’ll make sure to tell you everything that’s happening. Today’s game is Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw and as this is their first game of the year, I will give you a quick listing of the roster. For Gryffindor, the Chasers are 3rd year Andy Carver, 5th years Keira Sanguine and Tobias Raleigh, their Beaters are 4th years Kelly Pantall and Quincy Mattias, with the Keeper the 3rd year Briony Wexler and their Seeker and Captain, 4th year Gabriel Goden. For Ravenclaw, who this year comes to try and hold onto the Quidditch Cup they won last year, their Chasers are 4th year David Mildren, 5th year Prefect Bailey Williams and 3rd year Boyce Gardner, the Beaters are 5th year Prefect Tegan Madison and 3rd year Riley Markham, their Keeper being 5th year Laney Abbott and their Seeker and Captain, leading them once again, 6th year Prefect Noémie Ribouet. The official for today’s game is Professor of Herbology, Professor Walsh. We now wait for both teams to come brave the weather as we are now, so let’s get this game underway.”

Making her way out into the pouring rain, Noémie appears to be in quite a mood today. Her face is set seriously, and her eyes squinted, though this could likely be caused by the amount of water cascading down into her face. Coming to stop near Keelan, she does not look at the captain, instead looking in the direction of where the Gryffindor team is to join them. The rain does make it difficult to see what, exactly, is going on, and Noémie finds herself biting her lip while she looks around, rather hoping that the snitch won’t be quite so hard to see when it comes time to begin.

David follows the other members of his team, muttering against the rain and how it might affect the game. He carries his broom under his arm, hoping that it won’t behave as it did during that practice, when it suddenly stopped midair for no reason. That should not happen, though, since he had it looked over by the flying instructor, who reassured him that it should fly fine from now on. A bit nervous about the match, David stays silent and waits for the game to begin.

Laney Abbott is more nervous than anything, and keeps pushing her glasses up her nose with her free hand. Her broom is clutched hard in the other, and more than once she redoubles her stride to stay with the rest of the team, lips pressed into a thin line. Still, a “Lovely, I’ll just divine where the Quaffle is in the mess and block it that way.” escapes her lips in a sour sort of mumble.

“N– I’m su– no, Bri — c’mon, you–” Gabe starts as he walks out to the pitch, trying to sneak words in while Briony chatters at him quietly on their way out to the pitch. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure,” he tells his friend and then falls silent as the two of them come out, their red robes easily dampened by the sheer volume of water falling upon him. Squaring off in front of Noémie, his nervousness is not easily hidden, especially as he turns away from Briony a bit, perhaps to hide this very fact from her.

Trailing behind Keira and Andy, Tobias nestles on his broom a last time. It’s his first match in the main team and now it comes to a close against last season’s champions Ravenclaw. Quiet as usual he hides his excitement quite well, except of a trembling left eyelid.

Not to be left out of the intial comments, Kelly Pantall holds onto her broom, bat, and, like everyone, gets very wet.

Following Gabriel out to the pitch, once she is finally coaxed into silence by him, Briony starts to fidget. Her broom in one hand, and the other hand shoved deep into her pocket, she shifts from foot to foot while glancing around at the rest of her team.

David Mildred is about as grumpy as the other teammates about the foul weather, and doesn’t mince her words about it. She is rather in a foul mood today, for no apparent reason, and twirls her bat around, ready to play with the bludgers and send them over to the opponents.

Keira Sanguine looks almost annoyed at the water as she makes her way out to the pitch, though the smirk on her lips seems to say that she might know a bit more than she’s letting on. Glancing behind her, the smirk fades as she realizes who is following her. She’s got to do well this game. She just has to.

“Doesn’t seem all that bad to me,” Riley murmurs, sincerely, as he drives his hands in to his pockets. Both of which are wrapped in suede gloves, so that the scars of his left hand don’t catch on the fabric of his robe pocket. “Could be worse. And they have ter play in the same muck.”

Usually easy-spirited, Bailey does not look quite so easy today. The conditions are not the best for Quidditch, especially not for the first game of the season, and, with only a glance to Tegan, he goes to stand next to David, holding his broom with a rather tight grip.

“Alright, let’s keep our formation close and I…ahm…want to see clean passes. Don’t give away quaffle possession to easily. Just like in the practices. We can do that!” Andy tries to encourage his fellow chasers, finishing with a weak clap and wrings out his robe for the first time. The match hasn’t even started yet and he’s wet to the bones already.

Keelan Walsh smiles, though the gesture is merely polite. “Well, it can’t be lovely weather all the time. Okay, Captains, lets get the handshake through so you can start this game, shall we?” She watches them, gives a small nod, and turns to open the box of Quidditch balls, folding up her umbrella and setting it down. A click releases the Snitch from it’s special holder, and away it flies into the rain. Then Keelan takes hold of the Quaffle and calls, “On your brooms?” before blowing the whistle and tossing it into the air to get the game started. A few moments later, the bludgers are released, and Keelan mounts her broom to watch for fouls.

Laney Abbott is in the air and traveling toward the Ravenclaw hoops at the sound of the whistle, and soon hovers before them, waiting for Chasers to come her way with a Quaffle to, hopefully, block.

Swing his broom from his shoulders and mounting it in one easy motion, Riley turns and nods to Tegan — communicating that he understood their practiced tactic of knight at dragon. He was the knight who defended his teammates, she was going to start off being the one who grabbed a bludger and attacked.,

Quincy Matthias and Kelly rise into the air and spread out a bit, wielding the bats and watching (or at least attemping to) for bludgers to hit at the Ravenclaw team.

Reaching out to shake Gabriel’s hand, Noémie doesn’t wait long before getting herself onto her broom afterward. “Alright, keep it clean, and play hard. Remember what we practiced, everyone,” Noémie tells her team and as soon as she hears the whistle, she flies upward, though not too high. She wants to see where the snitch goes, after all, so that she has more chance of catching it.

Biting his lower lip, Boyce takes off in to the air after mounting his broom — almost slipping off it from the rain. He seens to grow a bit more confident once in the air. He’s ready.

Gabe Goden shakes Noémie’s hand as she offers it and then turns to his team. “Er –” he pauses as Andy begins to tell the team a quick last minute pep talk. “What he said,” Gabe tacks on and hops onto his broom, keeping a close eye on Noémie, though his attempts to keep up with her are rather obvious.

Following his teammates, David kicks off the ground starts to take some speed, making a direct flight towards the quaffle, which he grabs deftly before flying towards the Gryffindor goals. He makes a silent nod at the other Ravenclaw chasers to indicate them to be ready for a pass should the need arise.

Flying upward, Keira makes an attempt at the quaffle which has been released. Reaching close to David, Keira‘s face is set and she reaches out with intent to blatantly steal the Quaffle from David, though this does cause her to lose balance a bit and she has to slow down in order to gain control over her broom again.

Andy mounts his broom and sets up to shoot for the quaffle once it’s tossed up into the air. He sees the ball flying upwards and accelerates, but doesn’t reach it, since David has been more agile this time. Andy orientates again and chases the Ravenclaw.

Making her way up to the goals, it is not long before there is a small crowd headed toward her, and Briony looks almost fearful as she rubs her left wrist carefully, biting her lips while she gets situated more carefully in front of the goals, at a slight slant rather than straight on.

Nodding in silent agreement with Riley, Tegan pushes her broom forward and flies directly towards the nearest bludger, which she sends towards the pack of Chasers going after David, notably Andy.

Tobias gets into the air and hesitates a bit to go for the quaffle, since Andy and Keira are already racing for it. He stays back, turns around and is flying in front of David now, trying to guess where he is going.

Rising up quickly, Bailey is too slow to even be in contention to get the quaffle. This time, however, it appears as if a Ravenclaw has gotten it, and this bolsters Bailey a bit. Making his way down the pitch in an attempt to catch up, he swerves wide around Keira as she slows down and reaches out with an arm to let David know that he is currently open.

Kelly swoops in and knocks a bludger toward a streak of blue that will probably turn out to be Boyce, while Quincy takes flight, however slowly, toward the sound of another bat cracking, in order to attempt to intercept the other bludger, though he doesn’t yet.

Boyce Gardener moves notices Bailey postion himself and moves further up field to provide Bailey a passing lane ad possibly an attempt a a score., moving at a moderately quick speed but holding a fair amount of control. He is completely ignorant of the bludger sailing at him.

Feeling that the Gryffindor chasers are getting a bit too close to him, David makes a pass at Bailey, before continuing towards the goals to prepare the field for another pass.

Not being aware of Bailey, Andy stays behind David, coming nearer inch by inch he is now at his heels, but still not able to reach for the quaffle. As David passes, Andy notices that he’ll only be able to cover the Ravenclaw now. Bailey is too far away already.

Reaching out with his hands wide, Bailey makes a clean catch and begins to fly forward in an effort to catch up to Boyce. The older boy swerves a bit and then flies in to toss the quaffle to the younger chaser as he crosses in front, making his way diagonally away for a moment before coming back behind David and making his way around to hover behind a bit, in case the quaffle needs to be passed out again.

Riley, however, is very aware of the bludger that has been hurtled toward Bailey. Laying low on his broom in an attempt to keep the rain from blinding him, he darts foreward. Reaching out with his bat, he bunts the bludger away from Boyce almost at the last moment, before wheeling back and hitting it toward Keira. Though his aim isn’t dead on, exactly, it’s a right sight more sharp than last year, and definately sail in the general direction of his hopefully distracted target,

Seeing David’s pass, Tobias tries to intercept the ball, but it’s too well thrown, so that his finger just get the quaffle’s gust. He dashes down to hassle Bailey now, but too late, another pass he could not reach. “Keira, watch out!” Tobias points at the bludger and keeps flying next to Bailey, to cover him.

Shrieking a bit, Keira turns her broom and tries to get out of the way of the bludger, finding this difficult as her broom hasn’t quite calmed down yet, and her broom is stuttering a bit as she tries to out-fly the metal orb. “You bloody beaters! Get over here and hit this confounded thing at those bloody Ravenclaw!” Several more sentences, riddled with obscenities follow and the girl’s face gets quite red while she tries to get control of her broom still.

Quincy Matthias is in the path of the bludger at last and aims it with a powerful crack of bat-on-ball back toward the Ravenclaw Chasers with a grunt. Kelly flies for the other bludger, a bit peeved that Riley redirected it.

Freed of the bludger he’d not realized he had, Boyce catches the quaffle on the tips of his fingers, nearly dropping it a few times because of his slick it was, and making his flight briefly jerky. He manages to get himself relatively under control, however, arching up as he comes at the hoops, before diving and trying to shoot over Briony’s head, hoping for a quick score.

Deciding to let her role as the dragon aside for a while, Tegan flies towards the chasers to prevent the bludger from hitting them. She is still a bit away from it, so she does not reach it immediately, but flies there the best she can.

Rhian says, “The captains come into the center of the pitch and shake hands before both teams are called to their brooms. Professor Walsh waits until they are ready before releasing the Quaffle, the two Bludgers and the Snitch. With the toss of the Quafle, Mildred is quick on his broom and manages to catch it. Ravenclaw has first possesion this game as they head down toward Wexler who waits at the goals she is guarding. Pantall manages to get to one of the Bludgers and hits it over at Gardner, who seems totally oblivious to it. The Ravenclaw Chasers seem in good form as Mildren passes the Quaffle to Williams and Williams in turn tosses it to Gardner.”

Kelly takes care of the bludger again, calling something out to Keira that is lost in the sound of the rain and noise of Quidditch, while Quincy tries (poorly) to keep pace with Tegan and prevent her hitting the other.

Reaching up with both hands as the Quaffle is tossed at her, Briony manages, for once, an easy block. The block is easy, but the catch is not, and she fumbles with it for a moment before getting a good grip on it. Tossing it outward, she aims it to Andy without a word, though a grunt does ensue.

David Mildred groans as well, but for another reason, as he sees that the quaffle has been blocked. He immediately starts to chase Andy, hoping to get the quaffle from his hands.

Rhian says, “Markham manages to notice the Bludger flying after Gardner and hits it away back over to Sanguine. However, Gardner is having a slight issue with the Quaffle while he flies. Mattias takes the other Bludger and hits it in general at the Ravenclaw Chasers, though Tegan is attempting to protect her team’s Chasers. Pantall goes after the Bludger that is chasing Sanguine, attempting to keep it away from the Chaser. Gardner, now in the clear, attempts to score… But is stopped by Wexler, but it is only batted to Carver to head down back the other way.”

A short smile brightens on Andy‘s face, as Briony saves the first shot and gets a hold of the Quaffle. Flying for a second, then seeking one of his fellow chasers, Andy finds Keira at his side and instantly flings the Quaffle to the girl, noticing David behind him. Andy then performs a hard turn, to force David to slow down and get Keira an advantage.

Finally reaching the iron ball which was flying towards the Ravenclaw chasers, Tegan swings her bat and sends the bludger towards Keira. “Take that!”

Tobias slows down and lets his broom drop a bit to avoid the crowded field. He shoots forward and heaves up again, so that he finds himself in front of Keira now.

For a moment, Noémie thinks she’s spotted the snitch. While she begins to fly toward the gold fleck that she thinks she has seen, it is a moment before she realizes that she has a bludger following her, and her course is altered in order to avoid the orb that is hot on her tail. “Riley, Tegan! Someone” she shrieks in a rather undignified fashion, flying downward through the action in hopes of losing it.

Rhian says, “Pantall finally got the bludger that was after Sanguine away, and now it heads off to Ribouet, give the Seeker something to do until the Snitch is spotted. Meanwhile, Mattias is trying to stop Madison from getting at the other Bludger, but she manages to get it away over at Sanguine, who just recently got the Quaffle from Carver. Carver is trying a nice move though of attempting to block Mildred from persuing Sanguine as she barrels her way to Abbott.”

David Mildred narrowly escapes a collision with Andy Carver as the Gryffindor does a reckless turn right in front of him, and dives to avoid him. He lets out a shout of rage as he does so. Keira is already far from her, but noticing the bludger flying towards her, he decides to anticipate her (very likely) pass to Tobias and flies directly towards him instead.

It takes Riley a few moments to divine the location the bludger, having heard the sound of a bat striking it, but unable to see it for all the rain. Sailing upward quickly, he chases after Noémie — not quite able to keep up with her in all the rain and wind (he did have more wind resistance, naturally). But he could get close enough to send that bludger away. His aim is off, though, for the angle he had to strike it. It sails off in no particular direction toward friend or foe.

Keelan Walsh pulls up short on his broom to change direction, sweating a bit even with the rain coming down. He and his broom are not the fastest on the field, and it’s likely that the bludger will inflitrate the Chasers before he makes it. Kelly remains, for the moment, on the lookout rather than the offense, thanks to the rain unable to see the result of her last hit.

Quincy Matthias pulls up short on his broom to change direction, sweating a bit even with the rain coming down. He and his broom are not the fastest on the field, and it’s likely that the bludger will inflitrate the Chasers before he makes it. Kelly remains, for the moment, on the lookout rather than the offense, thanks to the rain unable to see the result of her last hit.

Laney Abbott starts to get a bit more nervous as she squints through the rain and detects scarlet blurrs moving toward the Ravenclaw end of the pitch. She begins to bob vaguely in place on her broom and her grip tightens around the handle.

What has she done to get the bludgers flying toward her today? Keira Sanguine has only barely managed to get the Quaffle secured under her arm and started on her way to the Ravenclaw goals before another bludger is directed at her. Looking over her shoulder, she checks to see if there are any other Chasers available, before she notices Tobias in front of her. Chucking the Quaffle quickly, with a shout of “HERE!” Keira swears a little more and veers away so as not to direct the bludger to Tobias.

Beginning to grin as his bet has paid off, David begins to chase Tobias, closing in to him as every second goes by. Had he gone for Keira after his near-miss with Andy, he wouldn’t be so close to the Gryffindor chaser as he is now… David has good hopes to at least bother him a good bit if he tries to throw the quaffle.

Tobias looks over his shoulder and receives Keira’s well-metered pass. He zooms up into the zone, heading for the left hoop and attempts a score. He dekes to puzzle the keeper, but notes David then and flies out of the zone again, throwing the Quaffle to Andy.

Making his way down the pitch, Bailey seems to think it a good idea to stay close to Andy now that David has gone after Keira, leaving Boyce to follow Tobias. As the Quaffle is tossed to Andy, Bailey sees his opportunity, and flies forward a bit, as well as his broom will let him. This is just in time, as he manages to get a grip onto the red orb, turning quickly and flying as fast as his broom will take him in the other direction. He is headed straight for the Gryffindor hoops with the slick ball.

Quincy Matthias is belatedly in the fray and with a very wet smack, sends the Bludger flying in the opposite direction, hopefully scattering at least some of the Ravenclaw Chasers, now that they’ve recovered the Quaffle. Kelly scans the skies for the other and zips toward it, sending the Bludger toward the Ravenclaws as well.

Seeing Bailey crossing in front of him, Andy‘s flying becomes unstable and he can’t avoid him stealing the ball from Gryffindor. Changing into defensive mode again, he shoots away to follow Bailey and gets a hand on the Quaffle, pulling at it.

Noticing the smooth work done by Bailey, Boyce does his best to tag Tobias and prevent him to follow the Ravenclaw chaser and intercept the quaffle.

Rhian says, “Markham manages to get the Bludger away from Ribouet with ease, but where it went, I don’t know… Matthias has also managed to get the other bludger away from the Gryffindor Chasers while Sanguine tosses the Quaffle to Raleigh. Raleigh now takes a chance to pass it to Carver, but wait… Williams has managed to intercept the Quaffle and the field now turns around to head to the Gryffindor goals.”

Gabe curses loudly as Ravenclaw gets hold of the Quaffle again, and the Gryffindor pulls her broom around, making a hard turn to try to follow down to the other end of the pitch in an attempt to retrieve the quaffle for her own team and scoring.

Keira curses loudly as Ravenclaw gets hold of the Quaffle again, and the Gryffindor pulls her broom around, making a hard turn to try to follow down to the other end of the pitch in an attempt to retrieve the quaffle for her own team and scoring.

A second later, David turns his broom and flies in Andy’s direction, attempting to hinder him and prevent him from catching up with Bailey.

Tobias slows down and ponders if he should go and dive into the bunch of chasers, threatened by both bludgers or wait where he is to receive a pass, should Andy really get the quaffle from Bailey.

The situation is a bit dire for the Ravenclaw chasers, since the two bludgers are directed towards them. Noding to Tegan, Riley Markham decides to take the bludger, which he reaches easily enough. The bludger is sent away from the pack of chasers in a matter of seconds. On her side, Tegan has more difficulties to catch the other bludger, and reaches it just as it was going to hit David, but as she does so, she prevents him from tagging Andy correctly and nearly collides into the Ravenclaw boy.

Tugging back at the Quaffle as Andy attempts to grab it back from him, Bailey growls a little and says something rather unintelligible as he tries to fly over a bit, pulling both the quaffle and his broom at once while he yanks again, finding this difficult due to the wetness of the Quaffle.

Andy pulls and turns the Quaffle in Bailey’s arms and hands. A tough opponent, as Andy isn’t the strongest of boys after all. But then his arms slips through and prises the ball out of the Ravenclaw’s grasp. A quick look and the Quaffle is on it’s way to Tobias again, who seems to have been sleeping at the zoneline.

Back and forth, back and forth! Keira turns around again and makes a rather sour comment under her breath before yelling, “Make up your confounded minds!” The chaser makes her way back down the pitch and pushes her auburn hair out of her face, looking quite irritated.

Rhian says, “The two Gryffindor Beaters seemt o have a vengence for the Ravenclaws as both Bludgers are sent to the Ravenclaw Chasers. Gardner attempts to block Raleigh from following while Mildred tries the same thing with Carver, but it fails as Carver tries to steal the Quaffle away from Willaims. With this rain, it seems overly difficult to keep a good grip, and it seems that it succeeded as Carver pulls the Quaffle from Williams and tosses it to Raleigh, the closest to the goal.”

The Quaffle is pried away from him as just as a bludger connects with the Ravenclaw’s leg. “AUGH!” he shouts loudly and grabs his leg. This prevents Bailey, at least for the moment, from following the group of chasers who have turned and headed toward his goals while he — rather babyishly — rubs his leg, his eyes pricking with tears, though he’s not about to show them.

A bit surprised Tobias prepares for the catch, does well and whirls around towards the Ravenclaw hoops. Maybe his first goal for Gryffindor, today? With a small groan he tosses the Quaffle towards an empty ring, hoping that the keeper won’t get it at that speed.

Quincy Matthias gives momentary chase to the Bludger, hitting it neatly toward Noémie, while Kelly guards of her own group of Chasers, intentionally or not, in case a Bludger heads their way.

Laney Abbott‘s lips have been moving at a nervous under-toned mumble for the last few moments, as if the rain weren’t distracting enough, and so she doesn’t move fast enough, and the Quaffle soars past her outstretched hands through the hoop, bringing bright red splotches to the Keeper’s cheeks.

Letting out a loud “WHOOP!” as she hears the clang from the other end of the pitch, Briony seems to be ready to jump up and off of her broom. The game, however, is not over, as the Seekers are both still prowling about, flying this way and that, and Briony does not move off of her broom, instead, getting situated to prepare for another shot, should it come.

Rhian says, “Raleign manages to get the Quaffle, and before anyone can stop him, he turns around and tosses it to the goals. Abbott can’t seem to get there fast enough and Gryffindor scores… It is now Gryffindor-10, Ravenclaw-0. Though the game isn’t over yet… Williams has gotten in the leg with one of the Bludgers while the other one seems to be going after Ribouet once more.”

Riley Markham glances a few differant ways, trying to make out shapes in the rain that had long since gave up trying to sting his eyes in a more worthwhile pursuit of hoping to freeze them. The bludger, however, can hardly be missed as it sails past his head directly toward Noémie. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Riley grabs his broom, pulls up, and gives the cannonball chase.

Unclenching his teeth again after the loud scoring sound, Andy throws his hands into the air. “Yes! Great shot, Raleigh!” He backs up again to be ready for more chasing and scoring.

“I scored.” Tobias looks into his empty hands and to the score board. Then he flies back again to set up for defending.

Boyce Gardener swoops in behind the Gryffindor hoops, snatching up quaffle (much more easily than the last time) and looping back hard — Bailey and David both seemed rather close, but he didn’t reckon he could he bank hard enough in the rain without falling off his broom to give himself a good go at it. Chosing between the two, Bailey and David — Boyce tosses the quaffle to David, trying to put himself in the airway enough to set up a pick for David to have a clear shot if he catches the red ball.

Having fully recovered now from his pain — or at least put it aside — Bailey makes his way around just in time to see a score go through for Gryffindor. A sour look crosses his face at this and he turns, flying toward the middle of the pitch and pausing as Boyce comes down. At the pass, he flies forward more, making his way toward the other hoops. They’ve got to even up!

Approaching Bailey again, Andy tries to cover the zone between him and David to prevent a pass to this Ravenclaw chaser.

Catching the quaffle, David quickly assesses the situation and the position of the chasers –both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. And then, he darts towards the Gryffindor goals, choosing not the direct path (which would probably sent him straight towards the Gryffindors) but choosing the right side of the pitch instead.

Heading for Bailey first, then trailing off towards David, Tobias tries to reach the Ravenclaw, but it’s still a long way to go. He didn’t see Andy on Bailey’s other side and lost a good amount of time, now.

Keira Sanguine flies down, a grin on her face. Sure, she doesn’t like her teammates, but it’s still her team, and a win for Gryffindor is a win for her. She tries to catch up to David, but her broom appears to have a bit of a stuttering problem, likely due to the rain, or perhaps her issues at the start just persisting on, and she has trouble catching up, especially as he swerves out to an alternative path.

It takes Riley a fair bit of effort to catch up to the bludger chasing Noémie — especially considering how graceful and fast Noémie could fly, even in adverse conditions. He was no slouch in the flying department, it was his best strength. But in this weather, it was killing him. Swinging, aming as best he can, he tries to arch the bludger at Keira. His bat begins to slip out of his hand, though, as he swings — and the bludger takes off in Gabe’s direction, instead.

The golden snitch has come into Gabe‘s view! He flies downward in pursuit of the little golden ball which e has only barely been able to see. The rain seems to have let up some and he makes his way downward, downward, making it only slightly closer to the little orb as it continues to stay just out of reach while he begins his chase.

Deciding to give the Gryffindors something else to think about than the quaffle, and cursing herself for having allowed a bludger to hit one of the Ravenclaw chasers, Tegan goes after the other bludger, which she intends to send after Andy. At the last minute, though, she notices Gabe’s dive and sends it against him instead.

Rhian says, “Ravenclaw heads back to the other end of the Quidditch Pitch with the Gryffindors chasing them. Markham manages to intercept a Bludger that was going after Ribouet, but turns and sends it toward Sanguine… What is this, seems that Goden has caught sight of the Snitch and has begun the chase. Madison has spotted this and sends the Bludger near her his way to try and change his attention and to loose the Snitch.”

The bludger, this time, doesn’t even register to Noémie as she spots Gabriel beginning to fly quickly downward. Flying before she even begins looking for it, it doesn’t take Noémie long to catch up to the younger boy, and she is flying neck-and-neck with him, her hand outstretched as if she is to be able to reach the little ball before he will. The snitch swerves this way and that, up and down, and it appears as if this chase is not about to stop soon.

Noticing that Bailey was totally covered by Andy, David has no option but doing the job himself. He approaches to the Gryffindor hoops the best he can, pretends throwing the quaffle towards the rightmost hoop but sends it to the middle hoop instead…

Bumping into Noémie a little — on accident, he promises! — Gabe makes a sharp turn as the snitch does, and overshoots it a bit in his excitement at being so close to possibly winning. His broom does not turn quite as well as he would like back, though he tries to catch up to the snitch and Noémie.

Keelan Walsh and Kelly almost simultaneously spot the double bludgers heading toward their Seeker and take off through the rain to try and stop them. Kelly, faster, arrives first and manages to deflect the Bludger, but Quincy is trailing behind.

Quincy Matthias and Kelly almost simultaneously spot the double bludgers heading toward their Seeker and take off through the rain to try and stop them. Kelly, faster, arrives first and manages to deflect the Bludger, but Quincy is trailing behind.

Reaching up as the Quaffle comes her way, Briony makes an attempt to catch it, but the Quaffle’s slickness does not help, and it flies through the hoop behind her. Briony does not look pleased at this, and scowls a bit as she retrieves the Quaffle, tossing it out to Tobias harshly.

Rhian says, “After some jostling, the Ravenclaw Chasers make their way down the pitch and right in front of Wexler. Mildred attempts to score, faking to one hoop and trying for the other. Wexler misses and Ravenclaw scores! It is now tied at 10 a piece. Bludgers are still flying around though as both Goden and Ribouet fly after the Snitch. Goben almost had it there, but seems to have missed.”"

Noémie hears the clang, but she doesn’t even know who it’s for as she reaches out, despite the jostling, and closes her fingers around the golden snitch. The little ball goes limp in her hands and its wings fold up again as Noémie holds it above her head triumphantly. The sixth year pushes her water saturated hair out of her face and flies down to the pitch quickly, hopping off of her broom and then holding both broom and snitch in the air in celebration. They’d won!

So close, and yet, so far. Gabe Goden flies down to the pitch, having nearly managed to get his hand around it before Noémie but not quite making it. He flies down to the pitch and looks up at his team, a bit disappointedly, before sighing. The captain doesn’t even wait for his team to come down before he makes his way off of the pitch, bound for the locker rooms. A nice warm shower sounds about right for the fourth year captain.

Rhian says, “Ribouet has caught the Snitch. Ravenclaw has won the first game of the year, and are on their way to a wonderful streak to trying to keep the Quidditch Cup. Final score is Ravenclaw-160, Gryffindor-10. Now what do you say to getting out of the rain everyone?”

Keelan Walsh blows her whistle signifying the end of play, and with less terseness then usual congratulates anyone who goes by as she collects the balls and returns them to their box.

Feeling quite disappointed, Briony flies down and lands soon after Gabriel has. She waits just a moment, intent to see how Kelly had done — after all, Briony couldn’t be watching the Beaters the whole game, could she? — and see if perhaps they had at least bruised up some of the Ravenclaws well enough. After she has caught up to Kelly, the girl makes her way slowly off of the pitch, whether Kelly is following her or not.

Riley cheers from his place Noémie lands, throwing his arms in to the air and whooping. “Yeah, Raaaveeenclaaaw!” Drifting down toward ground, pleased as hell to be done zipping around a too-cold sky in too-wet rain, Rilet leaps off his broom and cheers. Those practices had paid off. “YES!”

David cheers loudly, both for the ten points he managed to score than for the victory of the team, and quickly lands to celebrate with the other members of his team.

Boyce Gardener lands not from Riley, grinning and cheering “Yeth! Yeth!” Clapping Riley hard on the back, he walks over to congratulate Noémie on her catching the snitch. His first victory with the team.

Catching the quaffle as it is thrown to him, Tobias has only a moment to fly toward Ravenclaw goal before he hears that the snitch has been caught, and not even by his team. His disappointment is apparent as he flies down and hands the Quaffle over to Keelan, making his way inward. Perhaps he can talk shop with Gabe in the lockers.

Tegan Madison shakes her fist in the air. “YESSS!” she squeals, happy that Ravenclaw has won, and lands near Riley, David and Boyce. “Congratulations, everyone!”

Letting out a stream of obscenities, Keira Sanguine makes her way down to the pitch, looking sourly at the Ravenclaws, and then stomping towards the lockers. That no good Wexler, and that confounded Goden and Raleigh and Carver and Matthias, all of them were worthless. Yes, even Raleigh. The girl doesn’t head to the lockers with the rest of them, instead deciding to head into the commonroom and the girls’ bathrooms.

Cheering with the rest of his team for a moment, Bailey grins widely. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to go get dried off and head to the commons! I heard there’s going to be a wild party!” Without another word, the boy trots inside, waving a fist joyously above his head.

Quincy Matthias rather dejectedly, and with a good deal of squelching, dismounts and heads off to shower(as if being wetter was at all useful) or at the very least to dry off and sulk in the Common Room with everyone else.

Laney Abbott feels some of the good spirit at winning, though her only role in this sodden game was to let Gryffindor score. As such, her jubilation at her first Quidditch game being a win is tinged with self-mockery, evident with the rather closed expression of her eyes as she avoids the team and stalks off of the pitch, murmuring vague pleasantries that sound rather forced if anyone addresses her.

Grinning at her team, her demeanor much improved from the start of the match, Noémie looks quite pleased now. “Good work, everybody! We played beautifully!” Hearing Bailey’s comment, though, her attention strays toward the castle. “A party sounds about right, don’t you think?” the girl tells her team. “Come on, let’s celebrate!” Striding over to hand the snitch over to Keelan, Noémie turns, then, and runs inside. She doesn’t even stop along the way, instead going to the commonroom dripping wet. What’s a little detention in light of this cause for celebration?

Making her way out to the pitch, Noémie‘s face is set as she glances up at the sky, from which falls a light drizzle of rain. She has the usual Quidditch fare already set out — a box with a set of practice equipment, as well as some extra quaffles. Some curious bits of fabric are hanging from each of the hoops, a veritable rainbow of variety decorating, though Noémie‘s glance does not stray there as she instead sets her broom down and begins to stretch her arms over her head slowly, awaiting the arrival of the rest of her team.

Almost bouncing as she makes her way out to the pitch, Laney looks cheerful despite the weather. This behavior is especially unusual of the girl, and it seems as if she almost has an agenda in being so as she grins widely at the captain. “‘Lo, Noémie,” she greets the girl and drops her broom abruptly, mimicing Noémie’s movements of stretching, though her own are half-done and don’t seem to do much good for her.

Riley Markham appears on a the field a few minutes after Noémie, walking beside Boyce — the two classmates having holding a mildly interesting coversation about the finer points of Goblin speech. “You’ve almost got it, eh?” Riley says, placatingly. Trying, earnestly, not to laugh at the younger-but-in-the-same-year boy’s efforts. “All things considered.” As usually, his broom is draped across his shoulders, his wrists hanging limply over it, giving him a vaguely cross-like shape. His damp hair, mostly undone from the leather strap he attempted to bind it with, clings to his sundappled, but curiously pale features. Though it was clear he spent a good deal of time outside, he looked decidely more bleached than he had in several weeks. His quidditch robes bear the same general disregard for appearance as his school robes, wrinkled and dishevelled.

Striding out to the pitch casually, Tegan looks quite subdued today, in comparison to the angry atmosphere that has surrounded her the last several days. And, is that — does her hair look rumpled, too? Well, whether it is or not, Tegan appears to be tight-lipped, saying nothing at all as she joins the others on the team, throwing an arm up to start stretching it. After all, that appears to be the thing to do, doesn’t it? Yawning and trying not to grin to wide, the girl still says nothing, though she does look smugly in Laney’s direction.

“Gehthwackthwis? Gewthawaxthwis.. I don’th know, Marthum. I juwth don’th need’th to thwear that bad,” Boyce concludes, finally, giving up on the complicated and intricate pronouncation of Goblin vulgarity, before turning his gaze toward the sky. Adding after a moment, “Nawthty weathwer.” Waving to Noémie once their in range, he lifts up his broom as if eager to get in to the air, before turning his attention back to Markham. “Iwth good to know the meawnthing though, I thupothe.” Boyce says, sincerely. “Tho, thawt meawths awthho–”

Having just waved to Noémie himself with one hand, Riley‘s eyes widen and his gaze shifts back to Boyce, silencing the boy with a meaningful look and a small shake of his head. “Ixney on the eaningmay, eh?” He hisses, under his breath — the last thing he needed was for Noémie to chuck him another detention and spark another fight for swearing. Looking back to Noémie, he puts on his best, seemingly innocent smile, in hopes that she hadn’t heard or, god willing, wasn’t paying attention.

Bailey Williams strides on to the pitch somewhat after Tegan, wearing a somewhat bemused, bewildered expression. As though the world were suddenly a differant color, and he weren’t entirely cetainly why or how it had happened. His own hair is somewhat askew, though it’s hardly unusual for it to be so. Still, he seems happy enough, flahing a smile at Noémie and nodding to the rest.

“Hello, everyone,” Noémie greets the team as she turns around and looks up at the sky once more at the light rain. “Alright, today, we’re just going to run like we’re in a game, for the most part. I’ve got extra quaffles out in case the one in the box turns out to be a bum. Alright, now, you see those ribbons? You’ve got to try to retrieve as many as you can. Tegan, Riley, your job is to prevent the chasers from getting them. It looks like David couldn’t make it today, so it’s between you and Bailey, Boyce. Laney, you’ll try to keep the boys from scoring. Only after you have made a score can you get a ribbon, and you must not get hit by a bludger before retrieving your ribbon, or else you’ll have to make a nother score first. Alright, all clear? I’m going to practice my dives over at the other end of the pitch with the practice snitch. Make sure you’re obeying the rules. Whoever has the most ribbons at the end of practice, well… wins.” With that, Noémie strides over to the box and retrieves the practice snitch from the box, waiting several moments for it to disappear from view before she mounts her broom and takes off, leaving no time for questions.

Well, at least she didn’t scold him for swearing. Passing a quick look to Boyce, wide-eyes implicating that the short, stocky lad needed be more careful with his tongue — Riley mounts his broom and kicks off in to the air. Good lord, that was close. Lifting a hand to brush his long, wet hair from his pale face — the wine red strings not unlike trickles of blood against his white skin, Riley makes himself ready. Nodding to Tegan, making sure they were far enough apart to get good coverage of the field.

“Alright! I get to actually hit them this time!” Tegan responds, sounding rather gleeful at this, despite the fact that she is not so annoyed with Bailey this time. “Up and at ‘em, then,” she tells everyone, somehow deciding that she’s the boss of this practice while she strides over and lets out both bludgers without warning, causing her to have to duck so it doesn’t hit her straight off. “Alright, Markham, let’s see if your aiming practice has paid off!” The girl says this while brandishing her bat and hitting a bludger upward while she gets on her broom. This gives her enough time to fly up into the air with a good distance from Riley while she hits it again, this time to Riley — not at him.

Boyce Gardener grins knowingly at Riley — an small glimmer of mischief in his eyes, before grabbing up a quaffle and taking to the air. Waiting for everyone to get in to place, he tosses the quaffle in to the air a few times and catches it — twice very well, once on the edges of his fingers. Nervous though he might be about the upcoming match, he was excited as well. And he was ready to show what he try.

Lifting a hand to rake his wet hair back from his eyes, Bailey grins somewhat to himself as he climbs up on to his broom and kicks off in to the air. He was grinning quite broadly, at that. And an awful lot. “Great weather for a practice, isn’t it?” He notes to Laney as he passes her, hardly noticing the tiny rivulets of water that washed down his face.

Hmmm, how is it that all the practices seem to revolve around Laney making blocks? The not-so-terribly-confident-yet keeper gets onto her broom and flies up to the hoops, not looking quite so chipper and cheerful as she had been before. “Alright, go when you’re ready!” she tells the chasers and limbers up her shoulders a bit, rotating each of them on its own. The keeper does look a bit nervous, as if the realization that the match is nearly here has just set in and she has just realized what is at stake in playing it.

Riley Markham seems relatively pleased with the change that has come over Tegan — her bossiness was something he had grown accustomed to, but her air of anger and tendincy toward violence usually left a distastefully coppery taste in his mouth. Often due to a bludger in the face. Or chest. Or groin. Twirling his bat, as if to gain it’s balance, he thwacks the bludger back toward Tegan easily enough. Same as she, not at him, but toward her. His aim and control much improved, though still needing a fair bit of refinement.

Boyce Gardener makes his go first, holding the only quaffle. Gripping the front of his broom, he darts toward the hoops in a quick, direct assualt. Unveering and unwavering. Brave, reliable, but very predictable. His attention is fairly focused, and though he is relatively certain where Tegan and Riley are behind and above him, he’s unwisely let his guard down to each of them.

Giving the bludger a good, hearty whack back at Riley, the metal orb seems destined for Boyce instead of her fellow beater. This is well and good, however, because she finds that the other bludger has headed toward her as well now, and she gives it a less forceful thwack toward her own sweetheart this time, in an attempt to slow him down. This ought to make for an interesting practice, especially as the girl is supposed to keep them from “winning.” Tegan grins and flies down the pitch a bit, making her way closer to the hoops in hopes of more easily throwing the boys off course.

Watching carefully as the younger boy makes his way toward her, Laney‘s face appears to set, though the apprehension is still a bit apparent. Come on, come on, come on, she’s just got to make this block. Nevermind that she’s got goodness knows how many shots to possibly block, the girl doesn’t want to let even one slip through the hoops. “Come on, you sissy, don’t dilly-dally!” she tells Boyce loudly, as if attempting to provoke him into shooting sooner.

Fortunately for Laney, her provokes aren’t needed. Hearing the whistle of bludger coming at him, the boy veers right and hard — completely destroying the vector of his toss. Grazing his shoulder, Boyce winces as the bludger sails past — but looks up to see Bailey and tosses the quaffle up to his older teammate. Finishing his arch behind and around the goal posts, Boyce rubs his shoulder as he moves back mid-pitch, centering himself for another pass at the hoops.

Bailey Williams is in the perfect position to grab the quaffle, having taken off as soon as he heard Tegan’s bat crack against the second bludger — knowing it had only one target. Soaring quick and high, Bailey rushes straight at Laney, Tegan’s bludger on his broomtwigs. Pulling up at the last possible second, he tries throwing the quaffle over Laney’s head through the hoop by distracting her with the bludger that Tegan had left him. One that will likely fly right under Laney and slam in to the goalpost.

Flying up high, Noémie is very high above the pitch, where the air is a bit chilly and the rain seems to fall a bit more heavily. Then again, that could be her imagination as well. The little golden snitch is so far nowhere to be seen — even though it is slower than the true thing, it still can be a bugger to catch — and Noémie decides it would be best to practice her diving for the time being. Flying downward quickly, she picks up momentum as she approaches the ground, pulling up sooner than is necessary, perhaps out of fear of crashing, or distrust for her broom. Either is plausible for the prefect, and others may never know for sure as she is soon climbing high into the sky, feasibly to do just the same thing again.

The bludger does well to distract Laney, and instead of an attempt to block the shot, she flies away instead, swerving wide to avoid the bludger. “That’s got to be a foul, Williams!” she tells her year-mate sourly and frowning. Oh, he ought to just wait. He’d find frogs in his bed if Laney had anything to do with it. Flying back up with a reddened face, Laney has retrieved the quaffle, and tosses it far out into the middle of the pitch, to neither of the chasers specifically. Sour grapes, anyone?

Finding himself somewhat caught between admiring Bailey’s handywork with Tegan’s bludger, and simply admiring Noémie, for, well — being Noémie, Riley almost completely misses tbe second bludger coming up around him and toward his face. Letting out a small squawk of surprise, he lifts his bat to bunt the bludger away from him — almost stunning it in midair for a moment, before considering the pitch. “Where do you need to go — there!” And lifting his bat up in a quick, solid arch, he drives the bludger hard at Bailey as the boy goes to fetch his ribbon. Hoping to clip him on the shoulder.

Feeling rather proud of himself, Bailey had nearly forgotten that they were still considered viable targets until they had actually collected a ribbon and thus gained the “point”. Thus, his reaction to the bludger sent by Riley isn’t nearly as quick as it might have been otherwise. Turning quickly, he manages to get out of the path of the bludger — mostly. It rather obviously strikes his right arm, just before he can snatch up the ribbon.

Flying around quickly, Tegan is headed for the bludger that has missed Laney quite completely — thanks to the girl’s swerving maneuver — and has every intention of stopping Bailey with it. This proves unnecessary, however, as Riley has chucked one at him, which has quite successfully put a stop to his point gathering. Instead, Tegan gives hers a whack and sends it out toward Boyce, hoping to intimidate the boy with the bludger again. It worked the first time, after all!

Boyce Gardener goes to fetch the quaffle tossed by Laney, having to swoop a bit faster than he’d been altogether prepared to do in order to catch it. Flying somewhat off to the side, hoping to maybe sweep past Laney and get the quaffle in to the hoop behind the girl, Boyce veers far off his original path in an attempt to dodge Tegan’s bludger — paying much more attention to the beaters than he had the first time around. Tegan’s distraction may prove enough, though, as the throw that tries to put past Laney — while solid enough and well aimed, is forced in to a rather predictable arch.

Seeing the Quaffle headed toward her again, Laney is quite a bit more prepared for it this time. No red ball is getting by her this time! She lets out a loud “AUGH!” as she reaches out to grab up the ball. Such exertion was not exactly necessary, since it was coming almost right at her, but Laney does not appear to realize this, though she does look at Boyce smugly, tossing it back to him with ease. “Go again!” she calls and grins.

Boyce Gardener catches the quaffle and takes back off back up pitch, pulling in — and passing glance to Bailey (who seemed to be rubbing his arm) to make sure that the older student didn’t mind his taking another go, before having one more pass at goal. Going straight didn’t work, going down and around didn’t work — maybe going up? Pulling up on his broom, and soaring high in to the air — Boyce does something fairly brave, and perhaps a little silly. Holding on to his broom tight as if he expected it to fly right out from under him at any moment, or expected to fall off (either seemed equally likely at the moment), Boyce half-dives, half-turns, banking at the goal (and putting every last ounce of flying skill he had learned over the last two months to use), before throwing the quaffle at what he hopes will be over Laney’s head in to the hoop, while providing the beaters an odd angle to strike at him from. The unexpected bonus being, he’s flying straight for the ribbons should he happen to actually score.

Completely befuddled by Boyce’s confusing flying — it appears the boy has had his broom tuned as instructed — Laney jumps one way, then another, only to decide the wrong direction to dive as she misses the Quaffle completely. The loud CLANG echoes through the pitch and her face becomes set and somewhat disappointed as she flies downward in an effort to catch the quaffle up again to prepare for another go-around. She also would rather be down here retrieving the safer red ball than be in the way of the bludgers that are bound to fly.

Riley Markham draws a deep breath, wincing a little at how he caught Bailey’s arm — honestly hoping that nothing where broken, though he knew with a certainty that Madam Wexler would be able to fix any damage his bludger might have done. Drifting across the pitch, he watches with quiet nod as Boyce tries some daring flying. Nothing that anyone else on the team (except perhaps Laney) couldn’t do more or less in their sleep, but for the lad still mastering his own position on a broom — it was quite well done. Finding the bludger that had bounced off Bailey coming back his way, he cobs it in Boyce’s direction — trying to stop the throw. The aim is a bit off, though, and sails well over his classmate’s head.

Everything has moved so fast that Tegan, in a moment of confusion, ends up whacking the bludger that she has approached at Bailey instead of at Boyce, who ought to be her target. Letting out an exhasperated yell, she flies around, almost as if to try to save Bailey from it (and instead direct it toward the younger boy). The force with which she has hit the bludger, though, prevents her from catching up to it as it approaches her fellow prefect very quickly and with surprising momentum.

Dive after dive, Noémie does not appear to get much lower before she has to pull out, either for fear of safety or perhaps just for ease of the reascent. It is during another of these dives that Noémie spots the little golden orb. She flies downward toward it, downward, downward, and then as it pulls up, so does she, completely oblivious to how close to the ground she was at the time. Accellerating as fast as she can manage, she does manage to overcome it and close it up with her fingers into her palm. This is followed by a triumphant whoop and she begins flying toward the other end of the pitch to see what is going on. Chaos appears to have taken over as there is a bludger flying at Boyce and another towards Bailey. What is going on up there? “Alright, bring it in!” she calls once it has resolved, flying down to land on the ground. She quickly walks over and secures the little snitch into its spot in the box marked “Practice” and waits for her team to join her.

Rubbing his arm and trying to work out the kinks of his first bludger attack, Bailey can’t help but cheer and whoop as his fellow chaser sinks the goal and darts off to grab a ribbon, unimpeded by the beaters. Tegan’s cry misses his ears, reaching him almost to late. “What?” THWACK! Tegan’s bludger hits him square in the chest, leaving him only enough time to look surprised. To his credit, Bailey remains on his broom, but he clearly is gasping for breath as he drifts toward the ground, holding his broom handle for support.

Boyce manages to get his hand on a ribbon moments before Noémie calls the practice, which he thrusts up in to the air with a resounding “YETH!” And after a small moment of celebration, he lands and moves toward the captain.

From his place in midair, as Noémie calls the practice, Riley withdraws his wand and freezes each of the two bludgers (his aim with a wand sizably better than his aim with a bat), before making his way to the ground. As is his usual habit, he leaps off the broom while it’s still several feet above the ground.

“Bailey, are you alright?” she calls, biting her lip and flying over to him. “Do you need some help? Merlin, I didn’t mean to do that, can I help you? Oh, geez, Bailey, will you at least say something to me, please?” the girl speaks quickly, though the speed she’s speaking doesn’t leave much room for interjection. Flying downward with him, she soon is on the ground. “Let’s get you to see Madam Wexler, alright? I’d rather you didn’t have a broken bone or something,” taking over the role of caretaker now, Tegan waits for Bailey to get to the ground before seizing him to almost drag him into the school forcibly, with the intent to make him see the school nurse.

Rolling her eyes at Boyce’s exhuberance, Laney doesn’t say anything as she makes her way down to the ground, putting the quaffle into the box. “I need more practice,” she mutters to Noémie at the last, swinging her broom over her shoulder and making her way off of the pitch before the captain can make any affirmative response to this remark. (And, of course, it would have been affirmative — couldn’t they all use more practice, after all?) Laney is soon gone, having put her broom away and made her way back into the school.

“Well done, mate — ’bout fell off your broom there, though, didn’cha? When yer bankin’ like that, lean in’ter the wood, alrigh’? Giver yer more control,” Riley says, after walking over to Boyce and clapping him on the back. “Yer gonna do alright, I think. Remember what I said last time, if yah miss, yah miss. Simple as that. Get the ball an’ try again. S’what my dad told me.” Grinning, though not really feeling his grin entirely, he and the stocky, short boy headed on up to the castle. Though Riley did wait for several moments to watch Noémie put things away.

Noémie is left alone to tackle the bludgers, a fact which, for once, doesn’t even seem to bother her. As the pitch has emptied and the light is waning, the sixth year flies up on her broom, wand drawn to immobilize them. Having caused them to stop moving, they are then easier to wrangle into the box. Both bludgers put away, and Noémie is off toward the broom shed, slowly making her way to put the overabundance of supplies away. But the prefect isn’t complaining. A strange calm has overcome her now and she soon makes her way back into the school, the same, easy demeanor following with.

Shortly after classes finish for the day, Kelly Pantall makes her way down, biting at her lower lip and with her broom slung over her shoulder. As the first game of the year comes uncomfortably close, she is increasingly nervous about practices and her poor aim, and it is with a certain extra edginess that she kicks at the ground, fidgetting with her hands. Every few moments, she shades her eyes with one hand and looks around for someone else to join her. The weather hardly calls for her to shade her eyes, what with the rather thick cloud cover, seeming heavy with the prospect of rain in the future rather than unnecessary sunshine, but such logic is apparently beyond the girl.

“Breathe, Pantall.” It is only a few moments, despite her impatience, before Quincy joins her, rolling his eyes at the girl. “Can we do that? Breathe. Calm. Stop looking so tense, you’ll make the Ravenclaw team too cocky.” It is a rather good-natured smile he offers her, though perhaps a bit exasperated with her. After a moment, he adds, “I’m here now, you can stop worrying about me. We don’t need extra practice – but okay, okay, I’ll humour you.” A pause, and he adds, along with a rather broad grin, “Hey, did you catch a look at Professor Helit this afternoon?” He rearranges his expression into a glare rather reminiscent of the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, straightening his back to mimic the Professor’s posture, and grumbles, “Stupid girls. Don’t know what they’re doing in my class. Ho, there, Mister Sloppy! Watch where you’re going!” He laughs at his own impersonation, apparently waiting for her to do likewise.

Making her way out to the pitch, Briony yawns a bit. “Hey, guys!” she calls to the beaters. “So, are we going to do that thing we talked about then? If we do, you’re going to need to go farther down the pitch. I already broke my arm this term; I don’t want to hurt myself before the match this weekend.” Briony stretches her arms above her head with her broom in hand and then pauses a moment before mounting said broom. “Shall we then?” she tells them, making her way upward. “No bludgers, though! Quaffles only!”

Rolling her eyes at the boy and stepping away from him, Kelly shrugs vaguely at Briony. “I s’pose so, Briony.” She swings one leg over her broom, retrieving both a Quaffle and her bat from the chest and flying up after the other girl. “Um. Okay. How are we going to do this, Bri? Do you want to throw at us, and then we can try and hit back? Or…” She tosses the Quaffle up with one hand, swinging at it with the other hand inexpertly, the ball passing through the air rather weakly and off-course. “I don’t think that’s going to work, in any case.”

Mounting his broom and following after the two girls, swinging his bat back and forth idly, Quincy flies out to retrieve the Quaffle (and manages, but only just), making a face at Kelly, presumably for ignoring him. “I could throw it across at you,” he suggests, “and then you could hit it at Wexler. You need practice at actually aiming.” Another pause, and he hovers, balancing the Quaffle on his bat precariously and guiding it with the other hand. “And then we could swap over again, and you could throw them at me.” He shrugs vaguely, for the moment far more interested in balancing the ball on his bat – which doesn’t appear to be balancing properly, no matter how carefully he tries to position it – than the actual practice at hand.

“I can throw them to you — it’s good practice for me — if you make sure you only go one at a time and give me time to get them if I miss,” Briony responds quickly, bu pauses as Quincy interjects. “He can do that, too, it works either way!” Briony stretches her arms across one another a bit and limbers up her shoulders while she looks across at her teammates. “Alright, I’m ready whenever you are!” she calls to the beaters, hands up at the ready.

“We can just take turns… when he hits it at you,” Kelly gestures towards Quincy with her bat, “throw it back at me, and so on.” She flies back a little, so she’s a more reasonable distance from the others, waiting for Quincy to start off. Apparently, she has no doubt that the others will do as she suggests – after all, if nothing else she is the oldest here, even if Briony has more history on the team than she does, and therefore expects everyone to just do as she suggests. “I’m ready, Matthias.”

Ceasing his balancing act suddenly, Quincy glances between the two girls, reversing a little and tossing the Quaffle up and down a short distance speculatively. After a moment, he tosses it up a bit higher and swings his bat towards it, knocking it quite accurately towards Briony. It’s not a very powerful hit from this position and angle, but it’s not too bad and keeps height at least most of the way towards the younger girl. “Done and done!” He calls out, hovering in place, bat still at the ready.

Having to reach down a bit, rather than up, as the Quaffle approaches, Briony lets out a raucous laugh as she easily grabs it up. “You’ll have to do better than that, Quincy!” she tells the boy cheerfully, then tosses the ball towards Kelly. The Quaffle makes a rather straight shot — after all, Briony‘s got a bit of practice at this — and heads straight toward Kelly’s chest, as any toss to a chaser might be expected to do.

“Ah!” Kelly seems a bit surprised by the approach of the Quaffle, having to reverse a little bit to get a proper swing at it. When she does hit it, it is not a very accurate hit, though it is a quite powerful one, especially given that the Quaffle weighs considerably less than the bludgers she is now used to hitting. She winces, seeing how far off-course it flies, really more towards Quincy than Briony, and though she begins to accelerate towards the ball, she seems to realise that is closer to one of the other two, and she shrugs, offering a quiet, “Ah, I meant to do that.”

Rolling his eyes at Kelly, Quincy flies towards the ball and smacks at the Quaffle with his bat, redirecting it towards Briony – or, more exactly, her head. “How about you hit it towards me, then, and I hit it at Briony?” He suggests, a smirk playing at his lips and an eyebrow raised at the other Beater. “Not that you’d actually be able to aim it.” He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. While his words might not be very nice, his tone seems entirely good-natured.

“Shove it, Quincy!” Briony calls, smacking the Quaffle away a bit with her hands before managing to catch it up again. She pauses a moment, almost confused now about to whom she should throw it. Deciding to keep to the system, she chucks it hard at Quincy, perhaps a bit harder than is absolutely necessary to throw it in order to bridge the gap, especially as it makes a very high arc.

Not being a particularly agile and graceful flier, Quincy seems to find it difficult to manouver himself in line with the Quaffle properly, and when eventually he does hit at it, it seems to be much easier to him to smack it towards Kelly than it is to hit it back to Briony. “I actually did mean to do that!” He points out, flying back down to more or less the position he started from, still smirking a little bit at the other two. “I didn’t just miss my target.”

Bat connecting with the Quaffle with a particularly unsatisfying ‘thunk’, Kelly seems unimpressed both with the ball and with the remarks of her fellow beater, as good-natured as they might be. “Darn it!” She sighs heavily as she realises that her hit is again off-course, and she flings her bat towards the ground in frustration. “The stupid quaffle is so much harder to hit right than the stupid bludger, and it’s just never going to be right, and I’m not good at aiming and I’m just never going to be able to do this right! Ah -” She lets off a few angry curse words, though her voice is pitched low and the exact nature of her remarks may be lost to her sudden dive to fetch her bat again.

Flying over to catch the quaffle where it has veered quite a bit from where Briony was hoping it would go, the third year just gawks a moment as Kelly makes these exclaimations. “It just takes practice is all, Kelly, and isn’t that what we’re here for?” The girl seems somehow calmed in general — a curious feat. “Here, want to go it again? It’s your turn this time!” Briony calls, though the fact that Kelly has had to make a trip downward to retrieve her bat, does not escape the girl. She instead makes a good, hard throw to Quincy. “At ME this time!” accompanies her throw.

“Alright, alright.” Quincy replies, swinging his bat with ease at the Quaffle and, though it is not as powerful as his previous attempts, it is quite an accurate attempt and flies back towards the Keeper with a fair accuracy. Turning his gaze towards Kelly, he raises an eyebrow at her, having apparently overheard some of the more unsavoury parts of her outburst. “You’re lucky no one was around to hear you spout that.” He calls down to her, a rather over-dramatically delivered lecture. “That kind of language is a solid ten points from Gryffindor and a detention.”

Rising in height again, Kelly eyes Quincy as if he is being deliberately antagonistic and grips her bat all the more tightly, biting at her lower lip angrily. She remains silent for the time being, an unusual feat for her, though it seems that not all her frustration was unleashed in her verbal outburst and, more than anything else, she is just waiting for a chance to prove herself again, or at least hit something.

“Like you would know, Quincy! It’s not like anyone would make you a prefect, after all,” Briony retorts coldly. Talk to her and Kelly like that, would he? Briony was going to make sure the boy was not pleased at all afterward. For once getting a good shot, though, Briony does not have time to savour the sharpness of her words, instead diving over to catch the quaffle. This time, it slips past her hands, as she has dove too late to grab onto it. The loud CLANG echoes, and though Briony does not say anything about this, she does give Quincy a bit of a glare, instead lobbing the quaffle to Kelly, her aim a bit off, forcing it toward Kelly’s left hand instead of directly at her chest.

Swinging her bat towards the Quaffle, Kelly frowns at the ball as it flies off, rather off-course again but at least headed in the general direction of Briony. “I… look, I give up.” She eventually offers, sighing heavily and smacking her broomstick with one hand. “I give up on this stupid Quaffles-for-bludgers thing. It just isn’t working, I’m not learning, and I’m still just as rubbish as I was when we started.” She glares again at Quincy, then turns her gaze back on Briony. “Can we wrap it up soon, Briony?”

Clutching his hand to his heart in mock-pain, Quincy smirks at Briony again. “Your words pain me.” He offers drily. “Though, I concede your point. Goden’s more likely to make prefect than me.” He glances over at Kelly, raising an eyebrow at her words. “You want to pack it in already, Pantall? Had enough of being shown who the true master of the beating is?” Even when it is obvious that the other girl is frustrated and fed up to no end, he can’t resist at least one attack on her.

“Well, alright,” Briony concedes. “I don’t suppose it would be quite the same, anyhow. It was worth a try, right?” the girl comments as she flies down in an effort to once again retrieve the red orb. Holding it this time instead of tossing it to someone else, Briony gives a scathing look to Quincy. She had told Gabe not to put the snotty people on the team, but Gabe hadn’t listened, and now the third year is having to suffer for it! Clearly, Briony is quite a martyr. Flying downward, she takes several moments before touching foot to turf, glancing up as she waits for the others to join her. “Maybe Gabe can set up an obstacle course or something for you. I saw Ravenclaw using some ridiculous thing the other day when I was going to come out and stretch my arm a bit with some practice.” Briony rambles on for several moments before realizing that she probably ought to be clearing up rather than chattering on. “I’ll see you guys later, alright?” she tells them and takes off at a quick sprint, bound for the broom shed and then the school.

Diving down towards the ground, chucking the bat down ahead of her, Kelly kicks at the ground as she lands, dragging her broom behind her dejectedly as she makes her way over to the broomshed. “I guess so,” she murmurs to Briony vaguely, but is otherwise silent. What she really needs, more than anything else right now, is someone to hug – or, failing that, someone to hit and yell at and bully. Either works.

“Alright.” A pause, and Quincy eyes the equipment on the Pitch. “So, it’s not my job to put this away, you know.” He eyes the other two as they leave, then the stuff again, tossing his bat in with the other equipment. “I wasn’t the one who got it out, you know.” He remarks, to nobody in particular, his voice not loud enough for anyone else to hear him. “Well, I guess…” He tapers off into silence, finally fully noting the complete lack of others around to hear him, and begins to lug the chest of Quidditch gear into the shed.

Sloshing onto the pitch just after dinner, Gabriel Goden looks over his shoulder to the silent Tobias, trudging along behind him. Having failed quite profoundly at attempts at conversation with the young man thus far, Gabriel sighs as the two reach the pitch. “I’ll just… get the chest then,” Gabe says, pointing to the shed before heading off in that direction, leaving Tobias on his own.

Making her way out to the pitch, Briony‘s clothes appear to fit her now, and she almost seems subdued as she comes out to the pitch. This could be because of the injury she recently sustained during a practice, the aftermath from which doesn’t appear to have left her completely as she rolls her wrist, carrying her broom in the other hand while she makes her way out to join Gabriel and Tobias. “Hello,” she tells them quietly. What could be bringing the usually boisterous girl’s energy down to such a, well, normal level?

Not much in the mood to talk (not that he ever is, really), Tobias merely nods politely to Gabe, looking down to the soaked grass when he can think of nothing to reply with. As Gabe returns, lugging the chest across the grass with both hands, Tobias makes to help him just a split second before Gabe stops, wiping his brow with a sigh. Looking sidelong to Briony, Tobias nods but doesn’t say anything in greeting.

“It looks heavier than it is,” Gabriel assures the two others. “Hi, Bri. Alright. Here’s my idea,” he starts, looking first, slightly upwards to Tobias and then fairly level, to Briony. “Last time, I was out here for hours looking for that stupid snitch,” he mutters, kicking the side of the chest half-heartedly. “So this time, I’m not letting it out. Tobias, I want you to practice scoring on Briony with the Quaffle,” Gabe says, opening the chest and thrusting the red ball at Tobias, “and in between shots, you have to throw this,” he instructs, taking out a golf ball from his pocket, “in the opposite direction for me to catch.”

“Huh,” is all Briony can manage in response to Gabriel. After all, her plight was a little worse. She was hurt after all! “Should I just go up, then?” the girl asks, though she doesn’t wait long for a response before getting onto her broom and flying up to the hoops in a leisurely fashion. “Alright, I’m ready!” she tells the boys, and doesn’t say a word about her arm, though sore it might still be.

“Yup Brio– okay! Let’s go! Tobias, one lap to begin with and then we’ll start for real.” Gabriel nods, with a grin, before mounting his broom and taking off into the clear and chilly air, Tobias silently on his tail. The quiet boy actually beats Gabriel around the pitch, and stations himself several yards from the nearest goalpost. As Gabe meets him there, he backs up quite a bit. “Here, Tobias! Chuck it as hard as you can, and make me dive for it! But…” he starts, noting Briony’s stiff demeanor, “uh, throw Briony’s first.”

“OK,” is Tobias‘ surprising reply. Turning his back on Gabriel, Tobias pockets the small ball for now, circling around a little bit in a wide oval before shooting the quaffle smartly and sharply to the centre goalpost behind Briony. Before noting to see if it went in, he withdraws the small ball and turns, throwing it as hard as he can in Gabriel’s direction.

“Nnnng!” Briony yells, reaching up with the arm that was not injured to stop the quaffle as she manages to stop it between both hands. Grinning to Tobias, Briony tosses it back without waiting to see if he is even looking in her direction. She does have the decency to yell, “Coming at you!” and stretches her arms above her head, wincing only slightly as she perhaps stretches her left arm a bit too hard.

“Gaah!” shouts Gabe as the little ball goes much farther than he expects it to. Tobias has quite the arm! Presently diving down, Gabriel forces his broom to its full speed, trying not to think about what his mother would say right now if she saw him, hurtling full-speed towards the ground. He pulls up quite early, reaching out his arm and wincing as he just barely catches the white ball. “Bollocks,” observes Gabriel, the ball smacking against his palm as it makes contact.

Not looking at Briony at the time of her throw, Tobias whips around a second too late and the Quaffle hits him in the shoulder and starts to fall. Diving down to retrieve it, Tobias wordlessly retakes his place in front of Briony, shrugging. He turns, moving farther away from Briony before taking his next shot — a curveball. By now, Gabriel has come back up behind him, and after an “Oy, Toby?”, tosses him the golf ball.

Curves, though she’s got them plentifully, are not something Briony is too practiced at in Quidditch, and while she dives for the direction it appears to be headed, Briony is shocked to see it fly right past her with a loud CLANG as it flies through the hoops. That is definitely something the girl will have to practice at if she’s to do her team justice this year! Flying down to catch the quaffle, it appears that Briony‘s wrist is limbering up. “Good shot!” she calls to Tobias and chucks the Quaffle to the boy again. “Try that agian?” she asks, though it seems to be lost on her that if she’s to get better at them, perhaps expecting it isn’t the best way to do so.

Pitching the golf ball again, which sends Gabriel off in a hurry, Tobias turns in time to catch Briony’s toss this time. “D-d’you mean the curveball again? Alright,” he says, almost unsure of himself. Tobias seems to need some momentum before executing his curve-ball shots. He rounds once more on the little keeper, performing the same shot again, almost identically.

“I missed that one,” Gabriel discloses to the two upon his re-arrival, the white ball in his hands. “I hope we have good weather for the match, really,” comments Gabe. “It’d be hard to see the snitch in the rain. Can you imagine?” he asks, shaking his head. Tossing the ball to Tobias again, Gabriel nods, ready for his next dive. “Ok, go!” Gabriel says, the tall chaser obeying quickly.

The identical shot does not fail to occur to Briony as she is able this time to catch it without too much effort invovled, though she does wobble on her broom a bit — her shoes are a bit slick, after all. “Don’t do the same one this time,” she calls to him, rearing back and tossing the ball in his direction. “I think it’s too easy for me; I won’t get better that way.” Lord knows she can use all the practice she can get, too. Flying a bit around in front of the hoops, Briony seems to be trying to get into a suitable spot in front in order to block any shot she gets with ease.

“Oh… okay…” replies Tobias, almost as though he thinks he’s done something wrong. “Right, this one wi– I mean, I’ll do something different this time,” the young man says with a nod. Tobias flies outward, actually behind Briony before coming round and flying towards her again. “Huuuugh!” Tobias cries with the effort of this shot.

“You throw so fast, Tobias,” whines Gabriel, though his tone doesn’t have a grating air to it, and the boy is still grinning as he comes back to eyelevel with Tobias, producing the golf ball and, for variety’s sake, pitching it towards the goal hoops. He is very careful to aim, though, at the opposite hoop in front of which Briony is currently covering.

The difference in the shot doesn’t seem to have phased Briony this time and she turns with her broom, trying a new trick — thwacking it away with the bristles. The hit makes a rather unpleasant sound, but she doesn’t seem concerned as the ball has a perfect trajectory back to Tobias. “How was that one?” she calls proudly, prepared only marginally for the golf ball as it comes flying at her. As if out of habit, her hand shoots out and she catches it. “OW!” she yells and then holds her hand out. “Gabriel Matteo Goden, what did you do that for?” she yells to her friend, flying forward, golf ball brandished before her.

“Good–” starts Tobias, catching the Quaffle once more. Looking over just in time to see Gabriel nearly shriek with mock-fear and take off in escape of Briony’s wrath, Tobias has no idea how to react to the pair. Why did Gabriel throw the ‘snitch’ towards the goalhoops? Shrugging, Tobias nervously tosses the Quaffle up and down.

Flee! Flee from the angry Briony! Speeding off as fast as he can urge his broom to go, Gabe Goden laughs as he looks over his shoulder to the girl. “You’ll never catch meeee!” he taunts loudly, sticking his tongue out at her. Making for a dive, he points his broom downwards in an effort to lose her. Gabriel snickers to himself, thinking he’s quite clever.

Scoffing, Briony chucks the golfball hard at Gabriel, its speed gaining even from that with which she has thrown it due to its downward trajectory. “If you’re going to do things like that, I’m going to do homework instead!” the girl calls, flying also downward until she has reached the ground. “My arm’s feeling better at least. It isn’t quite as sore now.” Briony doesn’t say this quite loud enough that anyone more than ten feet away would hear her, and she stands on the ground for a moment. A bit louder, “Well, are we continuing or aren’t we?”

With the ball just missing hitting him, Gabriel watches the thing land and, with a poor attempt at a grand bravado catch, follows it to the ground, lunging at it despite its already-stopped status. Sliding along the wet grass, Gabe’s robes resemble Slytherin robes by the time he stands up, grinning, in front of Briony. “Look, I’m Harper,” he says with a wink. “Well… I do have quite a bit of homework now that you mention it.” Looking upwards to the awkward-looking Tobias, Gabe calls, “We’re bringing it in!”

With a nod, Tobias obediently and promptly flies downwards, landing his broom quite gracefully considering his height. “Um, is this yours?” he asks, holding the Quaffle out to Gabe, who laughs upon taking it and stashing it into the Quidditch chest. “Good practice, guys,” the captain says as Tobias peers at the ground. Had he proven himself at all? Upon nodding once more, Tobias departs, hearing Gabe’s voice saying, “C’mon Bri, don’t look at me like that! Race you to the castle?”

“See you later, Tobias!” Briony calls as she takes off without warning toward the castle, her longer legs making her trip out quite a bit easier while she sprints. Unfair? Probably. But it doesn’t appear that Briony minds this.

With her broom under her arm and a look on her face that could make a stone idol run in terror, Tegan marches down onto the pitch. Her hair tied back in a tight unattractive bun that looks hastily done. The Prefect kneels down to tighten her laces waiting for Noémie to begin the practice as usual. Is she still upset at Bailey? You bet! Does she remember why? Chances are that she doesn’t but why should that stop her?

“Tegan, come on, will you stoppit?” The familiar whine comes from the boy as he follows out hastily, tripping a bit over, well, grass. Bailey manages to catch his balance in time to prevent himself from falling over, but he still looks a bit frustrated. “Come on, I’ve apologized about a hundred times. Won’t you talk to me again? Please? Tegan? Tegan!” A frustrated sigh emits from him as he comes to a stop about five feet away from the other fifth year girl. “It isn’t my fault the professor gave you detention. I even told him not to do!” It is with another loud sigh that Bailey shakes his head and decides, fine, that he can also play this game. Turning sharply, he puts his back to his teammate and crosses his arms over his broom.

“Leave me alone, guyth, I have to go to practithe,” Boyce tells some heckling classmates as he makes his way out to the pitch, still pulling on his sweater over his practice robes. “Go inthide, guyth. It’th raining anyway. You can’t watch.” The boy shakes his head and makes his way out to the pitch carefully, buttoning up a sweater lopsided and coming to stand near Tegan and Bailey. “Hi, guyth,” he greets them and stands in between them, looking from one to the other, seemingly oblivious to the tension between the two.

Like his usual self, David is totally oblivious to the little sentimental drama occuring in front of him. The boy walks the last few meters to where the other players are standing, holding his broom over the shoulder and whistling lightly. “I hope the rain won’t start to fall more heavily, that’d be too bad.” he remarks casually, before looking at his broom and noticing a twig that is oddly out of place. “Ah, darn it…” he swears, before putting it back in place.

“I’m sure we’ll practice anyhow,” Laney responds with a chuckle and a bit of an eyeroll. “After all, it wouldn’t be the first time Quidditch was played in the pouring rain. Mind the time we played last year and it was torrential?” Laney pauses. “‘Course, I was only second string then, so of course it doesn’t matter, does it?” Glancing over her shoulder to see if Noémie is approaching, Laney looks a bit pleased that the captain has not heard her say this. She does push her eyeglasses back up on her face and run a hand down over her hair while she glances around. “Will you two just stop already? It’s so annoying.”

Hearing only the last bit of what Laney has said, Noémie strides out to the pitch, stretching a bit. “Hello, everyone,” she greets her team and looks at them all silently for a moment. “Alright, today, as you can tell, it’s raining. It’s good practice, in case it’s stormy the day we play Gryffindor. So, Gryffindor’s team is better this year, it looks like, so we need to work harder this year. I’d like to do a sort of a scrimmage. You chasers, up there, running plays and taking shots on Laney. Don’t give me that look, Laney, you need the practice before the match. And then, Tegan, I want you to take out that modified practice bludger and hit it among the chasers here so that you can get some practice with your aim. Please don’t kill anyone and don’t aim only at Bailey. I mean it. Alright, In the air. Let’s do a couple of laps first. The practice balls are down over there,” Noémie points to a box nearby on the pitch. “Just get them out after we’re done. I’m going to be working with the practice snitch.”

Smiling at most of her teammates (This doesn’t include Bailey of course) Tegan nods to Noémie. “No killing…. stick to hitting Bailey…. check.” Well she got it half right at least. The fifth year girl hops over her broom and speeds off into the air quickly to get her two laps in, which is hard to do with raindrops spattering about your face and eyes but she eventually manages it. When she comes in for a landing to get her bat and practice bludger she slips up just a bit getting herself muddy here and there while the rain threatens to undo her tightly woven bun of hair.

Flying first, right-o! Quickly getting onto his broom, Boyce takes off slowly — after all, bad things happen when he tries to start too quickly — and begins to make his way around the pitch. It takes him a full lap, but after the first lap, Boyce manages to speed up a bit, gaining speed even more after a third lap. After his third lap, he comes to hover in the center of the pitch, looking at the other Chasers, who have likely beat him into the center of the pitch. “Alright, we’re trying to thcore, right?” he comments, cringing a bit as his lisp is quite loud and apparent.

“A scrimmage? Nice.” David says, hoping on his broom and taking off to do his two laps, following Tegan. The first lap goes well, but as soon as David begins his second lap, the broom begins to wobble slightly. At first, the boy does not really notice it; when he finally does, he dismisses the thought and thinks it is the wind, or his imagination. Yet the landing after the practice laps is a bit harder to manage, and David inspects the broom for a few instants, his eyebrows quirked, but nothing seems to be out of order. “Strange…” he mutters.

Laney gets onto her broom and, pausing a moment before she takes off, she glances around. Sigh, she does not need practice that badly, no matter what the stinking captain says. The girl is up on her broom, though, before she can allow herself to say anything snarky to the girl with whom she should at least put a little effort into getting along. Swerving hard to avoid David as his broom begins to wobble, Laney scoffs a bit and flies one more lap, having passed the boy, likely, due to his broom trouble. After all, she hasn’t passed him up often in the past. No matter, however, as Laney soon finishes and wastes no time in flying straight up to the hoops. “Alright, I’m ready when you all are,” she tells them all and resituates herself on her broom.

Cringing as Tegan makes this comment, Bailey hangs back a bit, letting Tegan and some of the others take the lead so that he does not have to be near the girl with whom he is now not speaking. After all, two could play at that game. “You alright, mate?” he calls down to David after he has finished two laps of his own and looks concerned as he glances down at his fellow chaser. Bailey is obviously not concerned enough to come down, however, and stays up on his broom, nearly level with Boyce, though a small distance from the boy.

Making her own three laps quickly, Noémie is soon finished and flies down to the practice box to take out her practice snitch, letting it go before she even notices David. “Mildred, get back up there and get going. If you’re having trouble with your broom, just use a school broom,” She tells him, and is quickly back on her broom and up in the air. Clearly, Noémie isn’t in the mood to dilly-dally today. This is further exemplified by the fact that she hardly lets the snitch out of her sight before she has swiftly caught it again. This time, letting it go, however, she lets it disappear from her sight before she begins to fly around in pursuit of it. Despite it being gold, the little orb is certainly difficult to see with the rain.

“You’d be better off flying a broken broom David!” Calls out Tegan playfully as she releases the practice bludger into the air only to dodge aside quickly as it comes rushing back down to her. She climbs onto her broom and makes her way into the air again grinning for the first time at Baily, it’s a menacing sort that says payback time’. The bludger comes rocketing up at her again and she deflects it away waiting for her team mates to rise as well.

“Ah, well, it’s probably my imagination.” David says, walking up to the Quidditch box and taking the Quaffle out of it. He puts it under his arm and hops back on his broom. With a firm kick on the ground, he flies up in the air, and starts to look around to see where the bludgers are. Seeing nothing, he throws the Quaffle at Bailey and flies towards the goal post.

Grabbing at the Quaffle as it is tossed to him, Bailey manages to catch it only by the tips of his fingers, and this throws him off a bit. “Don’t you hit me, Tegan!” he calls to his girlfriend — or is she? — as he flies quickly, making his way over toward the goal posts. Giving the Quaffle a mighty hurl, he ducks down a bit, aiming the red ball at Boyce, with only a glance over his shoulder to aim. It isn’t much of a throw, but it ought to get itself all the way to Boyce.

“Oof!” Boyce calls as the Quaffle does get to him, and in fact collides with his stomach. “Careful!” he calls out to the older boy, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out that he probably ought to be practicing rather than talking, and takes off after his teammates. Flying as quickly as he can manage, Boyce realizes just a moment too late that he probably ought to know better than to get his broom going this fast, as he begins to lose control. Chucking the Quaffle up in the air, he doesn’t even pay attention to whether he has thrown it to one of his teammates, instead focussing on getting control of his broom. He does manage this, but only after it is too late for him to catch the quaffle. One of his teammates will have to do it.

Watching carefully as the boys make their way toward her, Laney bites her lip, putting her hands up. What are they doing? That couldn’t possibly be a play. Not a very good one, at least. “Come on, stop fooling around!” she calls, shaking her head. Taking her spectacles off, she wipes them off, and then draws her wand, casting impervious, and a sticking charm as well on them before putting them back onto her face. Hoping the rain won’t make it more difficult for her charm to stick, Laney watches more closely what the chasers are doing, hoping to be able to see a real play going on, rather than the mess that she thinks she sees.

A shrill laugh comes from Tegan hearing her boyfriend on the rocks beg her not to hit him. As the bludger returns it looks as though she just may but instead the Bludger is knocked toward David with minimal ferocity. After all Noémie did tell her not to kill anyone. “You’re next Bailey so get your butt in gear and get flying!”

“What are you doing, folks?” David yells from his vantage point, as he observes the two other chasers. He was waiting for them to approach the goal hoops and try to score a point, but apparently, something else is going on in their minds. Deciding that he should rather try to catch the Quaffle, he starts to dive slightly to pick up speed and flies in the direction of the red ball. At this moment, the characteristic buzz of the Bludger results in David losing his concentration. He misses the Quaffle, not by much, and curses as he tries to avoid the Bludger. Fortunately, the Bludger loses his lock on him after a while and goes back towards Tegan. David turns sharply, but feels that he needs to put more force than usual on his broom handle. “Uh oh, it’s not starting again?” he says to himself, a little worried.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, folks, but I’m flying!” Bailey retorts quickly, turning and looking over his shoulder at David again. Spotting that the Quaffle has been missed, he dives low and quick, narrowly missing Noémie as she flies by. “Watch it!” he calls, though not in a malicious way. The Quaffle is almost to the ground by the time he gets his hands on it, but he manages a solid catch before it falls completely onto the pitch. Flying back upward quickly, the boy tosses it to Boyce again. “Careful this time!” he calls to the younger boy. “You ready, David?” to the other.

“Ah… yes, I am!” David yells, coming out of his turn, and preparing himself to catch the Quaffle should Bailey toss it to him. Quickly, his eyes scan the field to see where everybody is currently, especially the Beaters. “It’s when you want, Bailey!” he adds, finally, and he starts to fly a nice linear trajectory.

As the bludger makes it’s way back to Tegan she knocks it without much reserve for safety at Bailey as promised. “Keep your eye on the ball!” She says zooming quickly to another vantage point down pitch as the bludger flies toward it’s intended target. She’s not bitter…. honestly. Tegan readies her bat in her grip for when the bludger makes it’s return.

Boyce has managed to get his broom under control, and he is quite ready for the throw when it comes to him. He catches it quite easily and rather than tossing it to someone else, makes his escape for the hoops, especially as the bludger has been hit at Bailey instead of himself. Boyce finds it very easy to get to the hoops and having approached them, rears back and makes a hard shot to the left-most hoop. The shot isn’t a fantastic one, but it has a good bit of speed on it, and Boyce looks quite proud of himself, as he looks back at his fellow chasers momentarily, quickly turning to fly back down the pitch in order to try at it again as a team — hopefully with less broom issues.

As the Quaffle is thrown to the hoop, Laney makes a dive, but, not being quite as prepared for their approach as she thought she was, she falls just short, and while the Quaffle does not go through the hoop, she does not manage to catch it either. Flying down to catch it before it makes its way all the way down to the ground, Laney flies back up quickly, tossing the Quaffle forward, directly at David. “Come again now,” she calls to them, reseating herself on the broom so that she might better be prepared for the next one.

Flying about, Noémie scoffs as Bailey makes this comment to her, and he nearly prevents her from getting her hand on the practice snitch. “Watch where you’re going if it’s so much trouble to you, Bailey,” the captain calls but she doesn’t wait long down near the ground where she has caught the snitch to dwell on this. Releasing it again, she watches the happenings for a moment, applauding as Boyce makes an attempt at a shot. “Good try!” she tells both — or it is at least not clear to which of them she is speaking — and then turns her attention back to her own task, making her way upward, far around where the action is taking place and peering out in the rain for the tiny golden snitch.

“Augh!” Bailey calls, ducking quickly before the practice Bludger tries to take his head off. “Watch it with that thing!” This is yelled congenially, however, without any malice apparent. Perhaps the practice will end up being therapuetic for his girlfriend and he will be able to spend time with her again without fear for his health. “Alright, give it here, David!” Bailey calls as he flies down toward where Boyce has gone to, evening up with the boy to a degree while he watches David. “Is your broom still alright?”

David Mildred lets out one last curse but manages to catch the Quaffle this time. He keeps it under his arm as he continues to fly forwards. The slight buffeting on his broom seems to stop, and David turns his head towards Bailey, a bit relieved. “Yeah, well… the broom is a bit tough to steer, I guess it needs some serviceing.” David says to him. “Catch this one!” he adds with a grin, before throwing him the Quaffle, doing the pass from behind his back. Immediately after, he does a hard turn right to go back towards the goal hoops.

Tegan‘s glare softens a bit seeing as how she very nearly gave her boyfriend a concussion, she says nothing though not wanting to make it look as though she was sorry about it or anything. Seeing David catch the Quaffle Tegan waits for the bludger to return and when it does she again hits it lightly toward the fourth year only to see him pass it himself. “Watch yourself Mildred! Worry about that broom after you land!”

Hearing the characteristic buzz of the Bludger coming at him, David performs a series of evasive manoeuvres. For a moment, that seems to do the trick, but the Bludger suddenly resumes his course towards him. David frowns, and decides to make another sharp turn with the intent of having the Bludger overshoot him. Unfortunately, the broom decides, at this very moment, to refuse any movement. David lets out yet another curse and performs a roll as his last resort, thus narrowly escaping the Bludger. “Darn it, darn it, darn it…” he says, when he is back upright. “I really need to have that broom looked over.”

Grabbing at the Quaffle, Bailey flies forward, the ball tucked under his arm carefully while he maneuvers through the rain. “Get it!” he calls, and though he doesn’t attatch a name to this command, the ball goes flying toward Boyce as he flies downward for a moment, and then back up, headed straight toward Laney, though he is still a good distance from her. Bailey‘s broom seems to be the only one of those the chasers are riding today that is in good condition and he even brakes quickly and turns to look over his shoulder, propelling himself forward and out of the way of the hoops so that David and Boyce may make their way inward.

Watching as David is also nearly brained by her bludger Tegan cries out “Sorry David!” and being completely distracted by the bad flying broom Tegan is hit in the side by her own bludger. Luckily it was a light blow but it still managed to knock that horribly ugly bun in her hair loose letting it fall again over her shoulders soaked in the rain. Tegan shakes some of the hair from her face and turns to hit the bludger this time not at any of the chaser but at the Quaffle itself.

Leaning out to catch the Quaffle, it is a good thing that Boyce has his ankles hooked onto the broom, else he may have ended up sliding clear upside down from the reach he has done. Turning to throw, Boyce flies forward, waiting a moment before he tosses the Quaffle to David. After all, he must make sure the boy can move first. Affirming that he can, Boyce makes his toss, “Here you go! Make the thot!” he calls, his lisp not carrying as well as someone else’s voice might.

Flying up and around Boyce as he stops, Noémie doesn’t say a word about the yelling, or even the fact that it is unlikely that he would have time to stop in a game. Instead, Noémie spots the little orb upon which her attention has been fixed for the entire afternoon. Flying upward, Noémie speeds up, following it closely, but never getting quite close enough to catch it. Seeing it turn, she bears a hard right and reaches her arm out, managing to close her fingers around it. This will be the last time she does this during this practice, though, and she flies down to the pitch rather lazily, hopping off of her broom to watch the rest of the team continue on their progress. She’ll stop them soon.

“Hmmgn.” David mutters, as he tries to “unlock” his broom after having recovered from his roll. The broom doesn’t budge for a while, and David tries harder. “Hgnn, will you move, stupid broom!” he yells, shaking the handle to no avail, but suddenly, the broom resumes his motion and David is pushed backwards by the acceleration. “Ahh!” he yells, taken by surprise, and he needs a couple of second to readjust, just in time to catch the Quaffle.

Realizing that the Bludger was actually after the Quaffle, David hurriedly decides to pass it to someone else. “Bailey! Catch it!” he yells, and throws it to the other boy.

Grabbing the Quaffle that has been sent his way, Bailey quickly decides that now is the most opportune time to make a shot. Quickly flying in, he lobs the Quaffle toward the middle and highest hoop. He leans back a bit, flying upward in order to see better where his shot goes, and then glances over to David. “Might want to get down to the ground with that troublesome broom!” he tells his teammate, and then turns to look at the goal, just in time to see what happens.

More prepared this time for the shot, though not by much, Laney throws her arms up in the air, standing up on the stand of her broom, her heels hooked into it. She manages to tip the Quaffle away from the hoops, and though she doesn’t catch it, this is enough to block the Quaffle from going into the goal. Laney looks quite proud of herself as she sits back down onto her broom happily and glances at the rest of them. She is about to shout to them to get on it again, when she hears, “Bring it in!” hollered from below.

Watching as her Bludger chases the Quaffle even as it is tossed to the hoop only hitting it after it’s been blocked and then bounces away. “Bullocks!” Says Tegan with a sigh. “I didn’t hit that one hard enough to stop the score.” Tegan holds onto her bat ready to deflect the angry looking failed bludger as it returns. Though when told to bring it in she instead makes a catch and wrestles the practice bludger under and arm and comes in for a landing to return it to it’s box.

Boyce hears the same as Laney has, and wastes no time putting his broom into motion again, coming down to land on the pitch. “Good practice!” he calls and wipes some rain off of his hair which had been threatening to drip into his face. “I’ll score yet, I will. I promise.” Grinning and swinging his broom over his shoulder, Boyce waits for Noémie to make her statements to them while he tries to wring himself out a bit, for all the good it does since it is still raining quite heavily.

Flying down to land after Boyce, Laney rolls her eyes. “Don’t count on it,” she tells him and laughs a bit. She doesn’t say much else, though, waiting instead for Noémie to debrief and let them know just how many practices she is to subject them to over the course of the week.

Making his own way down to the ground, Bailey lands rather close to Tegan. He doesn’t stand as close as he usually might, keeping just enough distance from her so that it doesn’t seem too obvious that he’s about to ask her to accompany him to some secluded area around the school. He, too, only waits for the captain to give down her verdict as the team all gets down to the ground near where she has been standing for he doesn’t know how long.

“Yes, I’d better land soon” David says, nodding at Bailey. Fortunately, the broom follows his orders as he approaches the ground and touches down. “That was some practice, huh?” he says to his fellow chasers as he unmounts his broom. “I’ll give it to the broom flying instructor tomorrow, perhaps we could do something about it. It’s getting a bit too late tonight, I think. It’s strange… I flew that broom yesterday without any problem…” David says, obviously lost in his thoughts. A good thing he managed to come back to the ground without causing any major accident…

“Alright, good practice everyone. We’re going to practice again later, after supper, and I’ve arranged for a teacher to be out here with us so nobody need fear that we’re breaking any rules. Mildred, get your broom tuned up. You’re not to ride that broom until it’s fixed. You’ll have to use one of the school brooms in the meantime. Gardener, you’d best get yours tuned up, too; it appears to malfunction a little when you speed up. Alright, everyone get dried off, have some supper and then I’ll see you back out here an hour or so after dinner’s over so that we can resume practice. I want us to have the best edge possible against Gryffindor. Alright, see you all later,” Noémie tells the others, putting her practice snitch back into the box and leaving it there on the pitch, apparently so that is is there for their practice after dinner, and walking off of the pitch.

Trotting over to where the Quaffle has dropped, Laney grabs it up and plops it into the box. She goes the way of Noémie and trots off of the pitch, taking only a moment to stow her broom away in the Broom Shed before running into the school, hoping rather hard that the caretaker won’t spot her in all her drippy-wet glory.

Having wrangled the bludger while she was still in the air, Tegan has an easy time carying it over to where the box is and securing it in. It being only a practice bludger, as well, it has quite a bit less fight to it. Soon enough Tegan is walking slowly toward the broom shed and just as she goes in, she glances over at Bailey, who seems to have followed her. This time, not a sneer, but a smile erupts and it is clear that whatever anger she’d had before is now gone.

The smile has given Bailey confidence and he wastes no time in following Tegan off after depositing his broom off. The two of them are soon vanished from the pitch and from sight, theoretically off to their commonroom to study and to tidy up for supper, but those who know them likely know better than this.

Nodding to Noémie as she instructs him to have his broom tuned up, Boyce seems to jump a little. “Thankth!” he tells her cheerfully and trots to the broom shed, putting his own broom away. The stout boy is dripping quite heavily, as his sweater has absorbed a good amount of rain, but he doesn’t seem to mind, aside from the sloshing, as he makes his way into the school, presumably to get into some clothes that are actually dry.

With a higher level of energy than usual, Gabriel Goden rushes out to the pitch, Silver Arrow in hand. Tossing it aside as he nears the broom shed, Gabe whips the old wooden door open as he lugs a chest containing the Quidditch equipment from its place and out onto the grass. Hopefully that would become easier as time went on. With that, Gabe sighs slightly as he stoops to pick up his broom, standing it up and leaning on it while he waits for others to arrive.

The unmistakable sound of Kelly once someone has got her started approaches the Pitch well ahead of her. For once, at least, she seems to be in a genuinely good mood if rather unnecessarily condescending towards whoever it happens to be that she engages in her stream of conversation. ‘Conversation’ may be pushing it a little, however, as she seems to be caring little for the efforts of anyone else to have some sort of input. “…just saying, you know, that there is absolutely no basis for your theory. I’d suspect that you were just making it up, but I had a little more respect for you than that. You probably read it somewhere, right? In one of those stupid wizard books, I’ll bet, they have no concept of Jack the Ripper. I mean, if he was a wizard, they wouldn’t have used a knife, I reckon. I mean, surely he would have used his wand, if nothing else…” Indeed, whoever, she had been talking to in the first place appears to have drifted away, or at least stopped paying attention, and as Kelly steps onto the Pitch, her broom in hand, she lapses into silence and shrugs her shoulders wordlessly at Gabe as some sort of greeting.

Stomping her way out to the pitch, Briony does not appear to be in a good mood. She lets a rather large, obvious yawn emit and crosses her arms over her broom as she stops in front of Gabriel and Kelly at the field. “Hullo,” she greets her comrades, and though her posture seems to point to her being rather unhappy, she appears to be more exhausted than anything else. “What’re we doing today?” she asks, almost in a mumble as she glances from one of them to the other.

“Goden!” hollers Quincy Matthias as soon as he has the team captain in his sight. “Am I late? My pocket watch broke. What a piece of rubbish it is. You’d think something so finely crafted could withstand someone delicate as me sitting on it numerous times, wouldn’t you?” Quincy jokes with a somewhat hoarse-sounding laugh. “Well, I made it,” he announces, grabbing a beater’s bat from the chest with his sausage-like fingers. Looking at the two girls upon their arrival, Quincy tips an invisible hat and grins. “Miss Wexler,” he says with a low bow in Briony’s direction, “and Miss Pantall, always a pleasure,” he adds theatrically, also bowing to Kelly– though not quite as low.

“I’m surprised you’ve sat on it once without breaking it, Quince,” laughs Gabriel good-naturedly. “Hey Bri, Kelly,” he greets with a nod. “Well, you are about to find out, arent’cha, Briony?” he asks. “Right,” Gabe says to the group of three, looking downwards for just a second before continuing. “So, beaters…” he trails off, idly pointing to the bludgers, “keeper,” his eyes meander up to the hoops in the distance, “seeker…” he eyes the small compartment for the snitch in the chest. “Okay. I suppose that our lack of Chasers for this practice won’t make that much of a difference,” comments Gabe, messing with his hair as if deep in thought. “How about we let out one bludger, the snitch, and I’ll take a quaffle. I’ll take shots on you, Bri,” he says, pointing to her, “and Quincy and Kelly, you can practice aiming the bludger. Don’t hit it at each other,” Gabe warns, “only send it in the other’s direction. Okay,” he nods once more. “Go warm up a bit and I’ll let out the bludger and the snitch.”

“Oh, stuff it, Gabe,” Briony responds to her friend and only glances at Quincy. He’s the newbie after all, and she might be tired, but she still knows more than him. Well, she thinks so, anyway. “I’ll do a lap or two, I s’pose,” the girl tells her friend and yawns again. “Please don’t hit me either, alright?” she comments to the beaters before getting onto her broom and slowly making her way around the pitch. These laps seem to take a while, but once she has finished with three, she seems to be a little more coherent, and even a bit less annoyed-looking. After she has finished these, she stretches her arms upward and pauses for a moment before taking her place in front of the hoops. “Whenever you’re ready, Gabe-y!” Ah, back to her old nickname.

“Shut up, Matthias.” Kelly replies abruptly, swinging one leg over her broom and eying him with sudden annoyance. The reason for her slightly apprehensive annoyance is left unremarked upon as she kicks off from the ground and flies around in a vague circle, clutching her bat in one hand, keeping an eye on the other Beater. Her good mood having disappeared in the sudden light of her annoyance, her good cheer begins to return as she flies around, and she certainly can’t seem to resist a sort of vague giggle and a glance to Briony as she hears the uttered nickname ‘Gabey’.

“Have no fear, Kelly,” Quincy declares, ignoring her plea for his silence, a hand to his beefy chest. “I promise to do my very, very best not to hit you with this demon of a Quidditch ball.” After a pudgy grin, Quincy mounts his broom and putters for a few moments on his way upwards and to full speed. The young man’s ‘full speed’ is a bit under average, but he urges his broom on comically by patting it on its top. “Come on, Bessie!” he says, laughing. After a couple laps around the pitch (he had hopes of beating Briony around, but alas, no dice), the boy looks down to the ground. Seeing Gabe wave and shout, Quincy readies himself for the release of the bludger, which he watches as Gabe does. “We have a live one, Pantall!” he says excitedly at the bludger heads for him, holding his bat with both hands like a baseball player. “Look, I’m a Muggle!” he says to the now-passing Gabe, who merely smirks. “Batter up!” Quincy calls, smashing the ball, changing its trajectory to head for Kelly, now.

“You’d better be ready, Briony Wexler, because I am about to score mercilessly on you!” Gabriel taunts loudly as he heads straight for her, a Quaffle nestled familiarly under his right arm. Gabriel‘s transition to seeker would take some time, now after having played a chaser for some years. “Mercilessly!!” he repeats as he nears Briony and her goals, whipping the Quaffle out from its place and hurling it at the left-most goal.

“Come on you’re not even a Chaser anymore!” Briony calls with a scoff, but this scoffing and the fact that the boy has changed positions does not seem to make her better at blocking shots, and she misses the first one, hearing a loud CLANG as it goes through the hoops. Frowning at her good friend — and date to the social, incidentally — Briony flies down to retrieve said Quaffle, flying it back up and lobbing it towards Gabriel, though it seems to be a bit high trajectory to actually fly to him. “Go again,” she orders loudly.

Swinging her bat one-handed towards the bludger, Kelly rolls her eyes at the other beater, distracted again from Briony by the sight of the bludger. It is a fairly weak hit by her standards, though not too bad given that she is deflecting it from an awkward angle. Even so, it is less than ideal and she grimaces at her own poor hitting, which as well as being weak is rather badly aimed and only curves towards Quincy out of a bludger’s natural inclination to unseat someone. “Well, that was terrible,” she remarks, biting at her lower lip. Her intention to make a joke falls quite flat, but at least she’s making an effort.

“I could catch this with my teeth, Pantall,” Quincy notes, squinting his eyes with glee at his light sarcasm. At the bludger comes toward him, he feigns terror and pushes his broom to go in reverse for a few moments, in the opposite direction of the oncoming ball. “Boom!” calls Quincy as he hits the thing back to her, his face a false mask of horror as he watches it speed at top velocity towards, not Kelly, but the ground. “Whoops,” he calls. “Wotcher,” he warns as the bludger changes its path on its own, heading now for Kelly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding!” Kelly protests, having to perform an odd sort of dive and spin to actually approach the bludger from a workable angle. She hits it hard, perhaps angry at herself for having done so poorly before, or perhaps just trying to prove that she is actually capable of more than her wimpy hit had shown. As well as being considerably more powerful, it is considerably better aimed, and she snorts at her fellow Beater with a wide grin, rather unmistakably impressed with herself. “Try catching that with your teeth, Matthias.”

“Gabe the Great SCORES!” announces Gabriel just in time to watch the Quaffle soar easily over his head. Rolling his eyes with a laugh, Gabe goes to retrieve the big red ball when he catches a glint of something near the ground. Could it be? “One second, Bri,” he calls, knowing full well it will annoy her to have to wait. Still with the Quaffle, Gabriel plummets down to where he thought he saw the glimmer of the snitch. It takes him a few seconds to see it again. “There you are,” he says sneakily, speeding up to try and grab it. The golden ball is much too fast, though, and turns abruptly in its course. “Bollocks!” shouts Gabe as he looses sight of it. Turning his broom sharply, he heads upwards again to shoot on Briony. “And another!” he says, lobbing the Quaffle as hard as he can at the middle hoop behind Briony.

“But you wouldn’t love my adorable smile so much if I had no teeth,” retorts Quincy with a bat of his eyelashes. Secretly quite impressed with Kelly’s return, Quincy chases after the bludger as fast as he’s able, taking quite a while to gain on it. He actually lets out quite a girlish squeal as the bludger actually stops and heads immediately in the direction whence it came. Ducking at the last moment, Quincy nearly falls off his broom. Watching the bludger as it makes for Kelly without him even hitting it, he calls, “I think it fancies you!”

This time, Briony is a bit more prepared, and she manages an easy catch this time, stopping the Quaffle with both hands. “Who’s great now?” she calls to her friend with a bit of a grin, throwing the Quaffle hard at him and righting herself on her broom. Briony yawns and distracts herself, watching Quincy and Kelly for a moment. What was Gabe thinking, putting that boy on the team? Briony‘s distaste for him could, of course, be interpreted by the fact that she doesn’t seem to be in a pleasant mood in general and is instead using this to judge those around her. It is a miracle that she hasn’t said anything truly caustic to Gabe or Kelly as yet.

Going into another dive to avoid the bludger and having to circle around it yet again, it is with a rather loud ‘crack!’ that Kelly eventually returns the bludger towards Quincy, her hit fairly powerful if nothing on her previous one, and she seems neither especially impressed or annoyed by it. Smirking at the other Beater, she adds, “Well, it wouldn’t fancy you if you slipped it an out of date love potion, would it?” Her nasty words are delivered with a certain jesting smile, however, and she seems to be genuinely enjoying both the practice and the bickering with Quincy.

“You’re great now,” Gabriel replies in a breathy, faint admiring voice as he clasps his hands and sighs. This proves to have been a mistake for Gabe as Briony’s throw hits him hard in the stomach. “Uuugh,” utters Gabriel, sputtering. “A little less passion on the throws, please, Briony,” pleads Gabriel as he starts a lap around the pitch to look for the snitch again. Unsuccessful in his search, he rounds once more on Briony, flying at her from a low angle. Pitching the Quaffle, hard, as if in revenge, Gabriel takes off immediately after to continue looking.

Lavishly wiping a ‘tear’ from the corner of his eye, Quincy pretends to blubber as he smacks Kelly’s well-aimed shot back to her. *CRACK!* “Ohh no,” he says. “Now you’ve done it. Now you’ve gone and hurt my delicate feelings.” He sniffs and appears to be blowing his nose on the sleeves of his robe. “You know I’m just an old softy under all this massive muscle,” Quincy calls, flexing the arm holding his bat. “Don’t choke!” Quincy yells suddenly as the bludger nears Kelly.

“Ow!” Kelly is quite able to return the shot with a heavy one-handed blow, though it flies rather off-course and her other hand flies up to clutch her wrist dramatically. “Never mind that, that hit just about broke my wrist.” Of course, either the girl is possessed of simply marvellous powers of healing or she is merely exaggerating, for within moments she is waving her bat again with the same hand and waiting for the next bludger to come at her, not something easily done with a broken wrist. “Alright, alright – that hurt. Look, my wrist has gone all red.” Well, her skin is a shade more pink than usual, perhaps. She is really just being unnecessarily dramatic.

“Tut, tut,” comments Quincy with a shake of his head and a pout. “Lucky for you, none of the Ravenclaw beaters have my… brute strength,” he says, uttering the last words in a low, guttural tone before grunting like a troll. “I’ll get it,” he says flippantly, pointing to the bludger that presently zooms over his shoulder, only just missing his ear. He goes after it, hitting it back over his head to change its direction and slow it down, then turns round to aim properly and gives the thing a whack with a smart-looking underhand. Glancing at Kelly’s hurt wrist, Quincy sighs again and suggests, “I could kiss it better. It’d be like magic.”

“You should pay attention,” Briony retorts, rather harshly as she seems to have no sympathy for his predicament with the Quaffle. The girl, for her own part, ought not to have sid anything, either, since this time, the quaffle does hit her rather hard in the arm in her attempt to catch it. A loud yelp and shriek emits from the third year and she doesn’t even make an attempt to get it. “I think it’s brooooken!” she calls with a loud whine, and it is clear that the waterworks are soon to start. “I need my muuuuuuuuum!” The tears begin flowing at this and she clutches her arm hard, her face turning nearly as red as the robes she is wearing.

Attention drawn away from the still-missing snitch, Gabriel stops dead in his path and wheels around to face Briony’s direction. Concern floods his facial expression almost instantly as he ignores the falling Quaffle and rushes up to Briony. “I-I’m sorry Briony, I didn’t, I mean, I’m sorry, I threw it really hastily and… do you really think it’s broken?” he asks very quickly, no hint of mockery or sarcasm detectable in his tone.

“It doesn’t hurt that much!” Kelly hastily retorts, crossing her eyes and making a face at Quincy. She is silent for a moment, though, clutching her broomstick tighter with her legs and hitting the bludger as hard as she can with a two-handed hit, which goes quite off-course but is quite impressively hard. Then, she seems to realise Briony’s dilemma and she flies at full-speed towards the girl, biting her lip awkwardly. “I, uh, bet it’s not broken!” She offers, though she seems to realise that this is unhelpful, and she shakes her head slowly. “An’ even if it is, you’ll be okay soon.” She then turns to face Gabe, glaring at him. “Way to go, Captain.” She mutters, his apology (and the mere fact that she’s berating the Captain) apparantly meaning little to her.

Biting her lip and wiping her face quickly with the non-injured arm, Briony nods mutely and puts her arm onto her broom carefully, trying to maneuver down to the ground. It is rather haphazardly that she manages to get down and get off of her broom. The girl lets the broom fall to the ground without much care or concern as she regrasps her wrist, looking down at the red and swollen limb. “I think it’s broken,” she sniffs loudly and looks to Gabriel, tears still flowing freely from her eyes. “I need to see my mummy. It huuuuurts.” The girl really sounds quite helpless and child-like as she says this, signalling that, despite her height, she is still quite a little girl.

Clearly flustered, Gabriel messes with his hair as he shoots an eye-narrowed look to Kelly. “Way to go, yourself,” he responds for no reason at all, looking back to Briony. “I’m sorry,” he says again, the picture of remorse. “Look, we’ll get you to your mum,” Gabe says in a cautious voice, as if Briony could break into pieces if he spoke too harshly. “Kelly… you’ll take her, right? I need to get the snitch back…” Looking around, Gabe finally calls, “Quince! Can you bring in the bludger?”

“Aye, aye, cap’n!” Quincy replies immediately, saluting as he’s sure a real pirate would do. Chasing after the dark ball, Quincy at last manages to catch up with it, smashing it downwards with all his might and following it downwards. Pity no one is likely to be watching him, for as soon as he’s low enough to the ground he leaps from his broom and onto the wriggling ball. “Victory,” shouts Quincy as he wrestles it a good six yards over to where the chest is and secures it.

“Yeah, I’ll take her.” Uncertain of the protocol in these matters and still fixing a rather annoyed glare on Gabe, Kelly reaches out a vaguely concerned, sympathetic arm to the injured girl, biting at her lower lip as she does so. If she notices Quincy’s wrestling the bludger, she does not show it, in sharp contrast to her tendency to make faces at him for the smallest things. “You’re gonna be alright, Briony, okay. No thanks to Gabe, but you’ll be okay.” Her tone is quiet and pitched to Briony, though easily loud enough for the others to overhear.

“I know,” Briony responds with a loud sniffle. “My mum’ll fix it. But it hurts.” Another sob comes out and the girl holds her arm closer to her body. She doesn’t offer much for interesting or meaningful conversation as she makes her way off of the pitch with Kelly, though the girl does try to curb her tears as she makes her way into the school. After all, she can’t appear to be this bothered by a broken limb. What will the Ravenclaw team think, if they see her sobbing like a small child!

Quite ruffled, Gabriel sighs as Briony and Kelly depart together, rolling his eyes at Kelly once her back is turned, and watching Quincy waddle off in another direction. In a moment of clear thought, Gabe notices Briony’s abandoned broomstick on the grass and makes a mental note to take it in when he finds the snitch. It shouldn’t be too hard, should it? With a hand to his forehead to shade his eyes from the dull November sun, Gabriel scans the pitch for a glint of gold…

are here.

Making her way out from the broom shed, Noemie carries quite a few Quaffles, haphazardly kicking one out to the pitch as she drops it. The girl doesn’t apper to be used to carrying quite so many of these without the aid of a bag or something similar, but she manages as she drops them all near the edge of the pitch, glancing around to see if anyone has showed up yet. Finding that nobody has, as yet, she makes one more trip back, returning with a Quaffle she had dropped as well as her broom. Despite it being afternoon, it is still quite cool outside, and though she knows she won’t need it later, Noemie pulls a sweater on over her quidditch robes. It wouldn’t do to fall sick, after all.

Tegan Madison stalks her way out on the quidditch pitch in threatening silence. Stalk, perhaps, being a rather generious word for the action. Though her movements are quiet, fluid, and even graceful, and her expression seems mild enough, the narrowed cast of her eyes and the tightness of her fingers gripping the handles of her broom and bat carry the presence of her anger like a thunderclap.

The trail from the castle to the Quidditch pitch is fairly straight, but Laney Abbott still manages to meander down it as she makes her way towards practice, her dreamy bespectacled eyes focused on something far off in the distance. Her winding path takes her close enough to one of the edges of the gate to the pitch that her broom bristles knock against it, startling Laney back to reality with a fluttering blink as her broom jerks on her shoulder. Her plump cheeks, already slightly flushed from the autumnal chill, go even pinker, and she mumbles an embarrassed, “Hullo, Captain,” as she hurries past Noémie onto the pitch.

“Teg– Oh, come on,” Bailey calls as he pauses at the edge of the pitch. “I didn’t do anything. You’re being impossible.” The boy sighs and crosses his arms over his broom, rolling his eyes. Girls could be so dramatic. “Do we really need that many Quaffles, Noémie? I mean, I know you aren’t a chaser or anything, but I would have thought that you of all people would’ve understood how the game works…” Ah, always time for the ill-advised quip.

“And then th’e thaid I could come in after practithe and work on it. I’ll th’ee you then, alright?” Boyce bids farewell to his comrade as he makes his way out to where everyone else is gathering. “I th’pothe we thould have our broomth?” he comments, pausing. He is the only one who appears not to have his. It is a moment while he trots over to the broom shed and then makes his way back out. This takes longer than it might someone else, because Boyce has not yet hit his growth spurt, and is, in fact, quite short still.

Riley Markham follows some ten steps or so behind Tegan, and near Bailey. His broom draped across his shoulders and his wrists hanging over it, Riley regards Williams with a lofted brow. As they reach the pitch, however, and Bailey attempts to swallow his shoe, Riley ultimately decides distance might be the wisest option. Walking beside a man who had one upper-classwoman mad at him was dangerous, but amusing. Standing next to one who might draw the ire of two would be to implicate himself in the snark remark and write his death sentance. No, no. Already done that once this year. Not again. Moving toward the quaffles, Riley widens his eyes a little, finding it rather difficult to believe that Bailey didn’t do anything. At least, unintentionally. As usual, he seems oblivious to the weather, though he does appear rather pale. His clothes are loose and baggy and customarily wrinkled.

“Hullo, Laney,” Noemie greets the girl, giving Tegan a curious glance as she, too approaches. “Something wrong, again?” the captain asks quietly and shakes her head while the boys, too, make their way to the pitch. “Hi, everyone — stuff it Bailey,” Noemie greets them all, while setting her broom down and picking up a quaffle. “Alright, here’s the deal. Today, you beaters are going to use these quaffles instead of bludgers, and you’re going to work on your aim. We’re going to go up in the air, and you’re going to hit these one at a time to each of the chasers, and Laney as well. I want you to change it up. The Chasers and Laney will work on their agility while you work on your aim. Please at least try to aim, alright?” Noemie asks, a pleading tone to her voice. “Boyce and David go to Riley’s side, Laney and Bailey to Tegan’s. Alright, let’s see if you can’t run this smoothly. I’m going to be chasing this practice snitch. Holler if you need me.” Without another word, Noemie mounts her broom and ascends, releasing the practice snitch and pausing just a moment to let it get ahead of her before she follows it upward.

Tegan Madison had been debating between either continuing to ignore Bailey’s pleas, or turning about letting him have a rather solid piece of her mind. Either way would ensure a satisfactory amount of suffering on Bailey’s part, which she rather felt he deserved. Especially if he didn’t realize what it was he had done wrong! To Noémie’s question, she parts her lips to respond, but finds the captain has already gone on to meat of the practice. Huffing a bit, and wondering why Noémie had even bothered to ask the question if she were just going to go on, Tegan can’t help but smirk as Noémie shares the nature of the practice. “’bout time,” she says, not-entirely-quietly, as her gaze falls on Riley. She was feeling quite catty, indeed.

A passing leaf, a chilly breeze, a stray idea, a fluttering bit of unruly reddish hair – each of these things command Laney‘s attention for a few seconds at a time, throughout the captain’s speech. She hardly looks at Noémie at all, and it might appear that she isn’t even listening, but Laney nods at the end, and heads directly over towards Bailey and Tegan as instructed. She directs another dreamy smile up at her teammates, including both of them in the vague friendliness, then swings her broom down off her shoulder and climbs onto it. Up into the air she goes, and flies with a slightly startling directness to a position about halfway down the field, where she hovers, waiting for the others.

Alright, time to show his mettle! Boyce wastes no time in hopping on his broom, though it does not go quite so smoothly as he would like, and he wobbles a bit. The boy manages to catch his balance again and flies up, taking his place up where he assumes Riley will be, and he glances around, waiting for everyone else to situate themselves. If nothing else, the boy gets points for sheer enthusiasm while he gets himself better situated on his broom.

Riley Markham simply groans — not unlike he’d been punched in the stomach. This was bound to be a rough practice. Tegan’s words and glance spark a hint of challenge in the boy, however, as he swings his broom off his shoulder, mounts it, and kicks off in nearly one motion. He found himself getting rather annoyed by Tegan’s attitude. Even on those rare times she had complimented him, she seemed condescending. He was improving, damn it. He hadn’t knocked a teammate off a broom unintentionally since the second practice. Turning his attention to Boyce and David, he nods to each of them once in the air, to signal that he was ready to begin.

Cringing a bit as Noémie informs him that he will be working with Tegan for the entirety of this practice, Bailey decides that it would be in his best interest not to flirt aimlessly with Laney today. Had he done that to get Tegan mad at him? No, likely not. Still and all, the boy mounts his broom and flies upward, giving a slight glance to Riley before he watches Tegan, waiting for her signal. Perhaps he’ll let Laney go first. That would give him time to try to apologize, at least. Well, theoretically.

Rolling her eyes, Noemie doesn’t seem in the mood for drama as she zooms up ward quickly and manages to close her hand around the snitch easily. Perhaps she ought to have made it a bit more difficult for herself. After all, at games, she would have to contend with bludgers and quaffles and the reality that she’s got to keep an eye on her team. At the moment, this does not seem to concern the girl, however, and she lets the snitch go again, waiting several moments this time for the snitch to escape her vision while she watches the team get organized.

Seeming somewhat pleased with herself for Riley’s reaction, Tegan mounts her broom and kicks off, seating herself in the air relatively even to her fellow beater. Preparing herself and giving her bat a few test swings, she nods her okay to Laney and Bailey. She was ready.

Waiting a moment until Riley gives him the go-ahead, Boyce flies out as quickly as he can propel his broom to go. This, however, proves to be a bit dangerous because as he turns to look where the Quaffle is going to come, his broom skids and he ends up flying backwards a bit rather than stopping. Perhaps next time, he won’t make such a quick take-off. It takes him a moment before the broom slows down enough so that he can right himself enough to catch the quaffle, but Boyce does not appear down-trod or embarrassed. If anything, the boy just looks more determined.

For the first time, Laney looks directly at Bailey, hovering in place watching him as she waits for him to go first. And then, for the first time, uncertainty makes its way onto her dreamy face, as she registers Bailey’s posture: slightly behind her, hands motionless on his broom. The plump little Keeper swallows, and waits for a second more, as if to make absolutely sure…and then she floats forward, Quaffle in hand. Laney sends the ball towards Tegan in a quick, overhand throw – but hesitation weakens the force behind it, and even though Laney‘s aim isn’t bad, the Quaffle might not have enough momentum to carry it all the way to Tegan.

“Any catch is a good catch, mate,” Riley calls over Boyce, before drawing up another quaffle, taking fairly careful aim, and clubbing it at David. It goes a bit wide and to the right, but compative to his previous year’s attempt at accuracy, it’s a noteworthy improvement. David fetches it easily enough. A few throws happen between the two of them, with Riley batting away the want-to-be bludgers back at David until he actually strikes a score by hitting the very hand that David had thrown the quaffle with. Smirking to himself, and bolstered a little by that success, he shifts his gaze to Boyce after flagging David back.

Shrugging at Laney as she finally makes her way out, Bailey glances at Tegan. “She’s an odd one, wouldn’t you say?” he comments quietly to his girlfriend. He waits a moment for an answer, but not being very hopeful starts tossing his quaffle back and forth from hand to hand. He waits until Laney has cleared the way before he flies out in pursuit of a good catch of his own, which Tegan will hopefully not hit too far past him. He is not hopeful however, as he flies out at an angle, glancing over his shoulder from time to time to see where she is aiming.

Tegan Madison regards Laney, almost curiously, as her broom drifts toward the nicely arched, but weakly thrown quaffle, catching it with the end of her bat and tossing it straight in to the air in order to aim and direct it (in the general direction of Bailey’s chest, or possibly head — whichever gets in the way first). “It’ll need more power than that, Abbott!”

Flying back next to Riley, Boyce watches as David goes his turn. “He’th better’n me,” the boy comments quietly. “Do you think it’ll matter if I mith thometimeth? I don’t have much practithe.” The boy seems rather unsure of himself today, which isn’t like him. Though, he doesn’t seem to be distraught or down-trod as yet. “I’m going to have to do more practitheth, I think.” Soon, it is his turn again, and he flies out, not quite so quickly this time at the start, tossing his quaffle back to Riley for his own shot. Turning a glance over his shoulder, Boyce watches as he waits for Riley’s shot to come back to him.

More used to blocking Quaffles than throwing them, Laney still looks slightly sheepish at her teammate’s reprimand. “Sorry,” she calls back, and actually drifts downwards a little as she hangs her head. But she can’t be distracted for too long, not when there is another Quaffle coming towards her. She blinks her bespectacled eyes, focusing in on the ball that Tegan has redirected towards her, and zips straight towards it, scooping it up easily in one hand. Another flicker of movement draws her attention for a moment – the Quaffle aimed at Bailey zooms just past her, and for a second, Laney almost moves towards it. But she has to leave that one for Bailey, and with a regretful little wrinkle of her nose, Laney keeps going. She hefts the Quaffle in her hand, and after another moment’s hesitation, tosses it back towards Tegan. There is a little more force behind it this time, but the neat arc of her first throw is gone – Laney‘s attempt to put more strength into her throw has made the ball’s trajectory straighter, and less graceful.

This time, the snitch proves more difficult to locate, and Noemie takes quite a bit longer to catch it. For several moments, she pauses, snitch in hand, and then releases it again. Once again, taking a moment to look at her team and their progress. For all intents and purposes, things seem to be running smoothly, and Noemie does not give this a second thought while she propels her broom forward again, flying downward steeply, just past the lot of chasers and beaters — and Laney — in pursuit, once again, of the practice snitch.

“Good on you, Laney,” Bailey calls anyway, as if she had done perfectly well in catching it. The Quaffle does manage to hit him in the head, however, and a loud yelp emits. “Good grief, Tegan!” he yells to her and rubs his head, managing to only barely catch the Quaffle in his fingertips. “To me, not AT me!” With a shake of his head, he flies back and tosses the Quaffle to Tegan, flying back outward again quickly. “Please be nice this time!” he calls and flies out quickly, careful to avoid Laney’s path as he makes his way outward again.

Tegan Madison almost grins at Bailey — obviously, having gotten some of her aggression out having down the dark-haired fifth year some good. She doesn’t have much time to savor her attack, as she notes Laney’s ball sailing toward her. Reaching up, she hardly more than taps it, making the quaffle mirror Laney’s first throw at her. A well aimed arch, but one that falls short, so that Laney might have to dive to grab it. Bailey’s quaffle is given the exact oppsite treatment, as she hits it hard and slightly wide to Bailey’s right side, far enough that if unstopped, it would land in the Slytherin stands. Slightly amused, she seems at least to be taking things a bit mroe seriously now.

Riley says, “Missing sometimes is part of the game, mate,” Riley calls back to the lisping third-year, as he lowers himself on his broom a little to catch the quaffle with the edge of his bat and send it back. Arching the ball more or less in the direction of his target, but perhaps twenty or so feet higher than Boyce’s arms could reach. “Keep at it, an’ you’ll do fine.” Contrary to what might be popular belief, he was the living example of that. Unless he really just got nervous or mad and clammed up, he seemed to handle his bat at least adiquettely. A far cry from his fist shot on the team.”

Flying fast and hard, it takes all of Bailey‘s might to catch the Quaffle that Tegan has hit to him, though the boy is quite pleased that at least he wasn’t struck with it this time. Gaining his balance again — for he was a bit unstable after the chance catch — he turns and flies back, nearly evening up with Tegan before he tosses the quaffle in her direction and flies out hard again, this time not looking over his shoulder until he is nearly as far out as he was when he caught it.

Much like Bailey’s Quaffle, the interaction between him and Tegan flies right past Laney – the sparks of hostility between the squabbling couple produce only a vaguely confused blink from the Keeper. Short, long, high, low – Laney is used to catching and blocking all kinds of shots, and she times her dive perfectly to intercept the Quaffle that Tegan has sent sailing towards her. She is not, however, used to having other people in close quarters with her when she’s doing it – Laney hesitates, pulling back to let Bailey go in front of her in pursuit of his Quaffle. And that throws off her timing – Laney has to scramble to catch up with her own rapidly-falling Quaffle, going into a steep, sharp dive to catch it before it falls too far towards the ground. But she does manage to scoop it up, and she manages to get her broom under control a few wobbling seconds later. Another player might have tried to throw the Quaffle all the way back up to Tegan from that position, but Laney plays it safer, delaying yet again as she soars back up until she is level with Tegan, and tosses the ball towards the Beater in a straight, easy line.

Canting her head a little, Tegan notes the small stop-gap in Laney’s flight. How she hesitated when Bailey got to close to her. Considering, and working the angles in her head, she reaches out with her free hand and catches Laney’s quaffle rather than hitting it back. Allowing her bat to slip from her hand and dangle from the leather strap about her wrist, as well, she then catches Bailey’s. This was supposed to be about agility, right. Glancing to make certain Noémie was watching, she lifts one quaffle and points it at Bailey meaningfully. Tossing it in the air and swinging her bat in to her hand, she knocks Bailey’s quaffle down and to her left, somewhat close to her. Then quickly pointing the other at Laney, she tosses it and send it sailing far, high, and to her own right. Hoping to force Laney and Bailey to cross paths in the air again as they move to fetch their balls.

“But Mithing meanth the other team can get it,” Boyce comments before he flies out straight ahead. He hasn’t a moment before he spots the Quaffle again, but this time, he is forced to speed up faster than he would usually like. Soon Boyce begins to lose his balance again and though he is quite unsteady, he does manage to get hold of the Quaffle. He does not fly back in straight away, however, pausing out in the air, trying to get control over his broom again.

It takes a good long time before Noemie is able to spot the practice snitch again, and instead of letting her catch it, this time, it decides to make chase. The girl is quick on her broom, but as it descends sharply, she is forced into a dive — her least favorite part of being Seeker. Even the injuries are more favorable to her. She descends quickly, quickly, and pulls out of the dive just short of where the snitch has gone level and begun to ascend again. This move has, for once, worked to her advantage as she manages to close her fingers around the little orb. “Alright, bring it in everyone! Catch your quaffles and come down!” Noemie, for her own part, flies down to land, looking up to watch them all wrap up.

“That true, Riley conceeds, waiting for Boyce to throw the quaffle back at him while David finishes rubbing his hand. “But we learn from our mistake, no? We learn what not to do again. If you miss but learn how not to miss like that again, then it’s promised fer a score fer later, eh?” Riley Markham, amateur philosopher. As Noémie blows the whistle, however, he offers Boyce a small shrug. “We can practice together later, eh?” And in a lazy arch, he spirals his way slowly to the ground, leaping off his broom while his feet are still some ten feet above the ground.

At first, all that Laney sees is her own Quaffle. Fixed on it with something very different from her usual vague, dreamy look, the Keeper flies swiftly up, heading directly towards it. Only when she is halfway there, though, does she see that Bailey’s Quaffle is also heading directly towards it. Forced to break one of the cardinal rules, Laney takes her eye off the ball – she glances behind her, judging with a quick, cautious look how far away Bailey is, and where he is going. While she hesitates, her Quaffle reaches the peak of its arc and starts to fall again, crossing paths with Bailey’s once more. If she waits any longer, Laney will either lose the ball or be forced to fly even closer to Bailey than she already is – so she gulps, clutches her broom a little more tightly, and dives for it. The course of her flight takes her just barely outside the path that Bailey will take, if Laney has judged the angles correctly, and a slight sideways jog gives her an extra foot or two, just to be safe. Hardly daring to look behind her now, Laney reaches out – and grabs the ball with a grin of triumph and relief. And down she goes, flying safely towards the ground again, as the practice draws to its close.

Bailey has over-shot how far Tegan would hit it this time in his estimate, and he is forced to turn hard and dive down to catch his Quaffle. This time, he is not successful, even in a haphazard catch, and the Quaffle falls to the ground. This does not seem to phase Bailey much, though, and he flies down to the ground, landing near to Noémie, though his attention is more toward the girl up above him in the sky. Pity she was wearing trousers.

Tegan Madison watches the results of her handywork with a pleased expression — though she does look slightly remorseful as Bailey misses his catch. No matter how mad she is, or how well he takes failures, she’d always prefer see him success. A clear sign that clubbing him with a quaffle had at least proved somewhat cathatic. Once Laney has gotten her ball, Tegan makes her way down to the ground. Nothing fancy. Just a simple, easy dive. She does land next near Bailey, however, giving him a straightfoward but not unkind look that notes quite plainly she knew what he was thinking.

Making his own way down to the ground, Boyce is glad just to have managed to get himself balanced again. He lands next to Noémie and looks up at her for a moment. Well, her name was a pleasure, since it didn’t accent his lisp, but her height did make him feel rather stout. “Good practithe, everyone,” he comments quietly, shrugging at everyone, though looking in particular at Laney, as if trying to discern which of them is taller.

“Good practice, yes,” Noemie agrees and smiles at her team. “I’ll see you all tomorrow. Remember, we’ve got that game against Gryffindor coming up. I’m sure we can manage some good practice so that we’ll have our usual edge back!” With this, Noemie turns, grabbing up as many of the excess quaffles as she can, and strides over to the broom shed and out of sight. Clearly, she seems to have somewhere else to be.

On this particular day, at this particular time, there are any number of students walking through hallways and up and down the stairs moving to and from classes. Evan Geroff has already stopped quite a few of them, trying to make quite sure he has not missed Olivia returning from class or moving off in a different direction. Far too many students are stopped by inquiries of, “Have you seen Olivia Baxtor? No? Hi, have you seen..” He has dressed up somewhat, his school robes changed for somewhat more formal black ones, the collar and sleeves trimmed in silver and green, and occasionally pauses to smooth out an imagined wrinkle inbetween inquiries as he makes his way down the stairs.

Tugging on her robes to keep them from being stepped on — hazards of new robes which are almost always too long, of course — Olivia Baxtor is making her way out from her Muggle Studies class, walking rather slowly. Though hazardous, she seems to be more intent on flipping through the book in her hands than those around her. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she puts her hand on the railing, waiting a moment until someone calls her to continue moving and she does begin her descent down the stairs, though slowly.

A few more inquiries, a number of quick steps down the stairs, and suddenly the figure in front of Evan looks familiar. More than that, it looks like Olivia. He slips quickly between a couple other students, murmuring hurried ‘excuse me’s as he goes, to rush down a couple extra stairs and wind up in front of his target. There may be a less-than-pleasant exclation from some poor hurried seventh year as he up and stops in the middle of the stairs, but if so he ignores the student, turning to face Olivia. “Miss Baxtor,” he speaks, in way of greeting, hoping to cause her to look up from her book. A moment later his words are accompanied by a formal bow.

Gasping in shock as she is not only addressed, but stopped short as she walks down the stairs. “E– Mister Geroff.” Her expression, though temporarily pleasant, quickly fades to a cold one as she stands before him. It is only a moment before she glances over her shoulder, looking for a spot in which to get around him. Olivia can’t even convince herself to look him in the eye, though her cheeks flush and she fumbles a bit, trying to keep the place in her book while also finding room to get down the stairs. She drops her book and it slides down the stairs to land on a stair several up from the bottom.

Evan Geroff isn’t used to such a cold greeting, and though it was somewhat expected, it still stops him short for a moment. As he rises from his bow he simply looks at her, hand moving halfway to smooth another wrinkle from the formal robes before he stops himself. It is the book that provides his opening, when it drops; Evan pushes his way further down the stairs, barely managing not to knock over a couple first year boys, in an effort to reach the book as quickly as possible. Once he has it, he returns to Olivia, holding it out to show her yet not actually intent on handing it over. “Miss Baxtor, I seem to have acquired your book. Perhaps you’ll walk with me a ways?”

“Give it here,” Olivia comments quietly, looking down rather than at her comrade. “I don’t know why you’d want to walk with my anyhow. You commented so poorly to me the other day.” The familiarity with which Olivia speaks to him cannot be hidden, even while she won’t look at him and steps down to the step below. “Will you just give me my book back? Unless you’re going to be nice, I really have nothing to say.” A frown tugs at the corners of her mouth while she makes her way around him carefully, turning around and walking down backwards, still holding her robes up a bit.

Evan Geroff follows Olivia downs the steps, his own extremely formal way of speaking dropped as he answers her, not begging – not yet – but quite serious about his desire. “I know I did, Olivia. Please.. will you come with me?” Still, he does hold the book further out from himself, offering it to her.

As she reaches the landing, Olivia stumbles a little, but manages to catch her balance well enough and then reaches out for her book. The girl finally looks him in the face for a moment, her frown lingering and she shrugs. “I suppose so,” she agrees, though not entirely cheerfully. “I don’t know what it is you would have to show to me, though.” She pauses and hugs the book to her chest, waiting for him to take the initiative to lead her whereever it is that he has planned.

Evan Geroff begins to offer his arm, but only begins, before pulling back. Perhaps at this particular moment she would not be so agreeable to the action. Instead, he offers Olivia a tentative smile. “Thank you. Please, this way..” Other than those words, he remains mainly quiet, simply leading the way to the outside and around the castle.

The walk from the school is long, and quite silent, as Olivia has nothing to say to her companion. They wander into the Northwest clearing and keep walking, and Olivia finds herself curious as to where Evan is leading her. As they start on toward a secluded path, she pauses a moment, and then continues on, though more slowly. “Where are we going?” she asks, having never thought to look for the path in the area that Evan has lead her to.

Having pushed aside a few bushes which rather effectively shield the path, and holding them aside for Olivia as well, Evan gives only a half-response as they walk down the path. “You’ll see.” It’s not nearly so straightforward as things they’ve found before, but eventually they come upon the Valley and within it a sudden vision of spring. Down toward the stream a ways, a blanket, much more fancy and girly-looking than anything Evan might choose for himself, has been set up. In the center is a small picnic basket, roses sticking up out of the top as well as a couple scattered across the blanket, and to the side is a single violin. Evan gestures toward the instrument with his wand, and it begins to play, this first song somewhat of the classical style, repentant sounding yet more hopeful than sorrowful. As he sticks his wand back in a pocket he turns, gaze searching Olivia’s face, looking for her reaction.

As they finally come into the valley, Olivia lets out an audible gasp. Well, if any anger were still lingering against her friend, it has now almost completely melted away. Her jaw drops open and her arms drop to her side while she steps forward, looking out into the beautiful valley, and then trying to take in the spectacle of things that he has put together all at once. “Oh, my…” It is several moments before she even looks at Evan. “Did you… do this for me?”

Evan Geroff nods in response, eyes still on his friend. “I hoped it would impress you. I..” it takes him a second, but though he won’t let go of his pride for quidditch, he will for Olivia. “I spoke harshly, Olivia, I was not upset at you and I..” “I’m sorry.” He hesitates again, and finally glances back toward the blanket. “Would you like to sit? I’ve brought a couple small sandwiches, and other treats.. The flowers are of course for you..”

“Sure, let’s sit,” the girl responds and smiles a bit. Anger? What anger? She walks hesitantly toward the blanket and bites her lip as she carefully steps, trying not to trip. She sets down her bag and book carefully and then looks to Evan. “I can’t believe you did this for me. Did you — did you learn how to do music like that?” Her jaw drops again and she glances toward it. Olivia pauses. “Is the basked cooled?” The girl giggles a bit as she asks this question. Given their history of conversation, she still seems to have an afinity for seeing things such as that.

A real, genuine smile is the result of Olivia’s questions, as Evan walks with her to the blanket. “Professor Dwight taught me the charm last night.. I wish I could tell you I played the song myself, but I only charmed it while he played.” And, while they sit, there is a total of three songs the violin will play – the second similar to the first, and the final song less regretful, more of a love song. He was hopeful. “And the basket is cooled, you should find everything quite nicely preserved despite the sun.” Looking around at the stream and the trees, he smiles a second time. “Isn’t it nice here?”

“I can’t wait to see what you brought,” she tells him and lowers herself to sit on the blanket, biting her lip as she looks at him. It is clear that Olivia is no longer annoyed at Evan and she scoots toward him a bit, getting comfortable as she leans over to peek into the basket. “How did you find this place? I’m sure I never would have even thought to look for it! Did you read about it in a book like the other place?” She looks around as she says this, taking in the scenery around her in complete awe.

Evan Geroff motions to the basket. “Go ahead and look. There should be a vase for the flowers, as well..” Along with a couple small sandwiches, there are scones and tarts, and even a little bit of butterbeer. “As far as I know, this isn’t mentioned in a book at all. Mother told me about it, said she came here once. I had to look a bit, it wasn’t quite where she said it was..”

“Wow, your mum did? It can’t be a bad place to be, then. I mean, since your mum is…” she pauses and shrugs. It is clear that Olivia doesn’t really need to say anything more about that. “It’s almost more beautiful than the clearing with the shack,” she comments quietly while she leans over and pulls a sandwich out of the basket, offering it to Evan while she reaches in with her other hand to get one for herself. The music provides a calming ambience, and it’s almost as if she’s never been angry at Evan at all. Looking down at her Sandwich, she does breach the one question which has been plaguing her. “So, why weren’t you at the Quidditch tryouts?”

Accepting the sandwich from Olivia, Evan adds, “She suggested I only tell a couple friends, to keep the place mainly secret.. but if there’s anyone you really wish to bring, feel free. I don’t know whether it was passed down to anyone else now, or lost until I found it.” It wasn’t really asked for; either that needed to be said, he’s stalling on answering her next question, or bother. At least he keeps his temper this time. “They don’t need me this year,” he remarks, quietly, a bit stiffly, but nowhere near approaching the way he spoke it to Olivia before. He learned that lesson. “They chose Louis as captain..” “I wish him luck with his new team. I suppose they’ll all see what sort of players they can get now, if the old ones weren’t good enough.”

“Oh, well, it can be another place for us. I don’t think anyone else has found the other, but it’s nice to have one, just in case, right?” Olivia smiles as she says this, and then waiting until Evan comments about Quidditch, she takes a dainty bite of her sandwich. She swallows hard as he tells her the news about Slytherin Quidditch. “Oh, no, really? Why would they do that? He’s younger, isn’t he? And you’ve been on longer, right?” The girl frowns as she makes this statement and then reaches out to put her arms around him, a comforting motion which almost comes as an automatic reaction.

Evan Geroff nods. “He’s a year below me, and I’ve been on since my second.” He isn’t expecting her to try to comfort him, at least, not by holding him, and doesn’t immediately respond, though after that pause he reaches over to put one arm around her as well. “I’ve been playing since before school too, at least, practicing with other children, and my parents taught me a lot. Mother was captain of her team here.” Unsure what to either say or do at this point, he uses the arm that isn’t around Olivia to take a bite of his sandwich.

The awkwardness of this positioning does not escape Olivia, either, and she leans back, releasing him from her grasp. She takes another bite of her sandwich and smiles a bit. “Well, I’m sure they’ll regret doing that.” Another pause. “And I s’pose it means we’ll have more time to spend working on the history of that shack, right? And, well… studying for the OWL exams.” She visibly shudders as she mentions the prestigious and difficult exams. With little to no pause, she looks at him after this rather pointedly. “You’ll go with me to the Social, won’t you? I really don’t like the girl-ask-boy functions. I get so nervous.” She puts a hand to her reddened cheek and smiles a bit, seeming quite relieved at having asked so easily.

“Yeah. They’ll see.” That’s all Evan wants to add on the subject, though, if nothing else than because it isn’t safe. Instead, he laughs quietly; it seems forced at first but by doing so he’s able to relax. “What are you worried about? We’ll study together, of course, and I know you’ll do brilliantly. Just tell me what you..” “Of course I’ll go with you!” The answer seems so obvious to him, and his relief at winning her back so great, that he does the only natural thing at this point – that is, leaning over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Blushing as Evan does this, Olivia does look quite pleased. “I’m sure you’ll do better on the O.W.L. exams than me at any rate. I’m a complete dunce at most of the subjects.” She shakes her head and sighs, pausing to take a bite of her sandwich before continuing on in a different vein of thought. “I wonder how this year’s Social is going to be. Last year’s was fun, but I hope this one is inside. My feet were so muddy after the last one. It was quite unpleasant.” She shakes her head a bit as she says this but then shrugs again. “What do you think it will be like this year? Do you think we’ll have so many sweets again?”

Evan Geroff chuckles quietly at this. “You didn’t seem to mind much at the time. Perhaps it will be inside, though; they could put down rugs or find some other means of making the floor soft. I’d hate to dance on it in bare feet otherwise.” He nibbles at the sandwich a bit, nearly finishing it – it’s small, after all – before speaking again. “I don’t think we wouldn’t, at any sort of event. Not with suppliers available. I’m curious to see how this one is decorated, though. They always have such brilliant ideas..” “Did you known how much work Professor Dwight put into the music for last year’s social? I never realized until recently that he had to play all those songs, on every instrument!”

“He has to play every one? Really? So, then, how does he do impromptu music then? Can he just decide he wants to play something new and do it?” She pauses. “That’s a lot of instruments to play.” Olivia pauses silently in thought over this as she finishes off her own sandwich slowly, turning her head briefly as the music changes over to another similar song and then she looks back to Evan. “I’ll be sure to thank him at the next event so that he knows we appreciate what he does. That sounds like a lot of work!” The girl shakes her head in a bit of shock while she finishes off the sandwich completely. “Mum keeps commenting that I’m getting larger because of all the sweets that are around in our commons all the time. I mentioned it on accident once, and now she won’t leave it be. I don’t think I’ll be getting much spending money at all this year for it.”

The first comment Olivia makes leaves Evan with a puzzled frown. “I don’t know. Perhaps.. Perhaps he has been working with each of those instruments for a long time, so that even that many songs that he didn’t use are in its memory, and can be played if necessary. It isn’t something that can be done spur of the moment,” he glances over at the violin, confident at least about this, “not with what he told me, at least.” As he finishes this, though, his voice becomes noticably colder with his next exclamation. “Is she? Ignore her. She shouldn’t..” “You’re beautiful.”

“I suppose he’s had a lot of practice doing this music, so he wouldn’t need to worry about it. You’re probably right. I don’t know how he does it. I certainly wouldn’t be able to do so many instruments by themselves, let alone keep track of them all.” She pauses and looks down, listening as Evan makes his next statement, her cheeks pink, but a smile crossing her lips. “You’re so sweet, Evan,” she tells him in a whisper, looking up only when she feels like the blush has dissolved from her cheek a bit. In return to the one he had gifted her earlier, Olivia leans forward to kiss Evan’s cheek, smiling quite happily, as if his saying that just banished the thought of being too large from her head.

It’s Evan‘s turn now for, if not a blush, than at the least a rather pleased and happy grin. It’s a handful of seconds or so before he gets over his cheerful giddiness and back to the conversation. “It involves spells on the instruments, one while it’s playing so that it remembers it, and one later on to make it replay the song.” Something Evan keeps, now and then, checking on to make sure his spell holds or worry about the next song – after all, he only just learned this overnight. “He wouldn’t have to play all the instruments at once then.. It has to take a lot of talent to make the songs all fit together, though. The timing has to match perfectly even while playing each instrument by itself.”

“I can’t even imagine,” the girl admits, shaking her head as she looks back again at the violin. “He must be really talented. I imagine the class is very hard, too,” she tells her friend. “I’m glad I took Muggle Studies instead. I don’t think I would have suited in music class. But it would have been nice to learn how to play an instrument at least. My sisters both are taking it, so now they’re both playing instruments. It’s a bit odd not to be playing one, since all my siblings do.” Olivia shrugs at this. “I know more about Muggles than they do, though.”

Evan Geroff nods in brief agreement. Definitely difficult. “I half wish I had taken it; I can’t play anything worth hearing now.” “Knowing about muggles may be far more useful anyway, unless you plan to play professionally. What do they both intend to do with it?” At the end of his query, he dives into the basket for another treat, then leans back against the blanket to face the clowds rather than the water – though, of course, still turned to see Olivia as well.

Readjusting her legs a bit and leaning down on her elbow, Olivia shrugs. “I don’t know. I think they want to marry successful men and just go to parties and things. They don’t seem terribly interested in having jobs.” The girl shrugs. “I suppose that might be nice. I don’t know what I want to be yet, though. I’m not very good at much, except for reading. Maybe writing essays. I don’t know. My marks on them are alright.” She shrugs. “What do you want to do. Are you going to be a prof– Oh, right. What do you expect you’ll want to do as a job?” She corrects herself quickly and blushes at already having forgotten not to mention this sore subject.

“A professor?” Sore subject, yes, but not one that Evan apparently picks up on too quickly at the first syllable. “I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t think I really would want to do it for long.” Nibble, nibble, think. “I still want to be a curse breaker, I think – only I don’t want to sit around all day with objects people bring in. I want to go out and, well, help catch criminals. Break traps and such they set up, assist in duels with the curses thrown there, that sort of thing.”

“Would being a curse breaker mean that you have to go other places? Like… Egypt and, and… Africa and places like that? Dangerous places?” Olivia bites her lip as she mentions this, tilting her head and apparently becoming quite pleased that Evan didn’t pick up on her slip of the tongue. “I don’t think I could do anything like that myself. It just sounds frightening to me. I would probably just get fired. Maybe I could help people with their homework or something for a job. Teach young children, or something.”

Evan Geroff shakes his head, using the motion to sneak a quick glance toward the violin as well. He should have picked more than three songs.. but no, that would have taken far too much of Professor Dwight’s time. With a slight shrug, he glances back at Olivia, propping himself up on one elbow. “No, it can be done right in the area..” “Perhaps, if I become really good, they’ll call for my help from other countries though. Wouldn’t that be amazing? To see how different it is all the way over there.. even Mother has only been to the mainland..” Trialing off, he gives another moment of consideration to Olivia’s words. “Tutoring, you mean? I think we might have had one, if Aunt Julie hadn’t been around. You could do really well.. get hired by all the rich families, so there’s a lot of money, and children seem to like you so well.”

“Tutoring, sure,” Olivia agrees. “I’ve heard that other people had tutors before coming to Hogwarts. Do you think those students are able to do better? I’ve often wondered that. I had to catch up a bit when I got here because Mum got distracted with our new neighbors at the time, she was trying to make friends so they could help her get into some of the fashionable parties and things.” Olivia shrugs at this. “Though I suppose if your aunt taught you, it wouldn’t make much difference, would it?” Olivia smiles at this and blushes a bit at his compliment. “As long as you don’t go anywhere too dangerous, it shouldn’t be a problem, right? You won’t have to worry about… dying… or anything.”

“No, I won’t die!” Starled at the idea, Evan breaks into a laugh, still chuckling somewhat as he calms enough to speak again. “You only die if you aren’t good at it, and don’t properly disarm the curses. It just means I have to continue with Defense, and Charms, and those classes.” Inbetween words, he finishes off the last bit of the tart he’d taken, brushing his fingers gently against his robes after. Nothing sticky after all, just crumbs, so they’ll fall to the ground and it’s all safe. “It didn’t in my family, not with Aunt Julie, and my parents, and John was around for a while.. and of course we all help out the younger kids now. I only can when I’m at home of course.”

“Well, as long as you don’t die,” Olivia tells him and looks down at her lap with only the end crust of her sandwich left. This will not be eaten — it’s the part with the most crumbs, after all! — and then smiles at Evan. “It just sounds terribly frightening. I couldn’t imagine doing it. Besides… there would be cobwebs and lots of dirt and things.” A visible shudder is emitted as she ponders over this for a moment and closes her eyes. After this moment seemingly passes, Olivia leans over, almost casually and rests her head on Evan’s shoulder for a moment before looking up at him happily. “Let’s never be mad at each other again,” she tells him with the hopeful optimism of youth. It is with this that she leans up ever so slightly, perhaps a bit nervously — she’s still not an expert at this, after all — her lips seemingly bound for his.

Evan Geroff grins at Olivia, searching out an appropriate response to her concerns about cobwebs and dirt. Finally he tells her, off-hand as though it doesn’t – and, truly, it doesn’t – bother him at all, “I’ll make sure to wash carefully after every dangerous mission.” Presumably he’ll be more serious about it when actually on the job. As she leans against him he slips an arm around her, ignoring the violin as it finally fades off from another rendition of one of the songs and letting it just sit silent, as he now is. A brief mumbling “Mmhmm” sort of sound is all the agreement she gets before he leans his head down, just slightly, glad to meet her kiss.

Rhian Brecon is off to the side of the library, having managed to get permission to hold this here. She has a couple of tables set up that she can use, chairs on one side of a table, with a large space between the two, and a few on the opposite side of the second table. The Seventh Year is sitting at the table with the less amount of chairs, a few parchments and a quill in front of her. On the other table, in front of each of the chairs is a piece of parchment as well, some writing on them, but turned face down so that they can’t be read.

Skipping down the hall, Briony Wexler stops just before the entrance to the library and pauses, glancing around as several others make their way in. The third year gryffindor pulls on the ends of her sleeves which appear to have become too short for her in some way — perhaps a growth spurt? — recently, and she makes her way into the area of tables and sitting down in front of one of the bits of parchment. Now what could this be? Briony doesn’t say a word, however, though she wiggles a bit in her seat while looking around at those filtering in.

Rhian Brecon notices people come in and settle down at the table. When a few people start to pick up the parchment to read it, she speaks up. “Not yet, that’s for later. Just leave it alone and you’ll get your chance to read it. Wait for everyone to arrive so I can give instructions all at once.” Once it seems that most people have arrived that signed up, she starts to go through her list of sign-ups to make sure everyone is there and ready to go on the Saturday afternoon. “Before we start, are there any questions that any of you wish to ask? Other than how this will work?”

Glancing around with a bit of a smirk at those who have started to fuss with their parchment, Briony turns her attention forward as Rhian begins speaking. Without saying a word, she merely shakes her head in response to the statement inquiring about any questions the group of them might have, and she sits up a bit, though there is really no need for the girl to appear any taller, and folds her hands in front of her, looking as alert as she can.

Just as Rhian begins addressing the students, James Addams walks in from the hallway. James mutters noisily and looks around the square room. He finds the group of students and strides over to sit with them. Just as he sits, James mutters, “Snotty little first years, you know I don’t think we were ever ” He sighs. “Sorry, continue on,” he says with an exsasperated look on his face.

Rhian Brecon nods when James comes in. “Welcome Mr. Addams. We were just about to start, so don’t worry too much. Anyway, welcome everyone to the auditions for Quidditch Announcer for at least next year, and hopefully all the years after until you graduate. I will not gaurentee only one of you will be picked today, and training will continue through the year. Now the way this will work is the parchment in front of you has a sequence of events in Quidditch that can happen in a game. You will be given a few moments to read the sequence a couple of times and then you are to verbal tell those events as if it was a Quidditch match. No shouting as we’re in the library, but a regular voice will do just fine, though with whatever enthusaism you wish to use. Each one is different for each person, and we’ll just go down the line. Any questions?”

“Ooooh,” Briony emits quietly and leans forward a bit. While Rhian speaks, she appears rapt, glancing only a moment at James as he makes his way in. The girl bites her lip and then shoots her hand up into the air and picking one leg up and sitting on it while she waves her hand up in the air, trying to catch attention without saying anything out loud.

James sits forward, and stares at Rhian as she speaks. He glanced at the parchment for a moment and sat still after she ceased talking, where he turned his attention rather on Briony, with her hand straight in the air.

Rhian Brecon can’t help but smile at Briony as she seems eager to ask her question. “Yes Miss Wexler?” she leans against the table as she was standing in the middle of the two tables.

“Are we going alphabetical, or randomly?” Briony asks, her hand still in the air. It is while she waits for her answer that she finally pulls her arm down and leans on the table in front of her with both elbows, propping her chin up on her hand.

Rhian Brecon shakes her head. “No, we’re going to go down the table. Starting…. there,” she points to her left, the edge closest to Briony. “Let’s get started.” She goes around her table and sits down, quill ready to take notes as she listens to the applicants.

Nodding as Rhian informs her of this and sits down fully on her rear, looking as a few people go before her, feeling incredibly thankful that she doesn’t have to go first, so that she can at least see how others are doing before she goes for her own turn, standing up and looking down at the parchment for a moment before she picks it up and looks it over. Taking a deep breath, apparently to calm her nerves, Briony looks up at Rhian, and then back down at her parchment. “Okay.” Another breath. “Smithy makes a throw to Hamner, but what’s this? Townes has intercepted it! He promptly tosses it to Pritches, who catches is and begins to fly toward his team’s goal. Tigera has hit a bludger at Townes and it connects! Townes appears to have been injured, but is still on his broom! Kitties has hit a bludger at Smithy in the meantime, but it misses and Smithy is unharmed! Pritches hands off to Guardia and they make their way to the hoops. Oh, it looks like Knockes has spotted the snitch! Knockes continues to chase the snitch around the pitch while Guardia attempts to score on the hoops. Dartan manages a block, preventing a score!” Pausing as she finishes, Briony looks at Rhian for a moment, and then flops back into her seat, rather red-faced as she looks back down at her parchment.

Rhian Brecon listens to everyone as she goes down the table, always telling them they did very nicely. As she listens, she takes notes on the person, mainly her opinions, and perhaps where they can improve. When Briony goes, she does the same as she listens to them. Each of the parchments are indeed different so that the ones later on cannot practice the same routine and try to outdo the last ones. When the young Gryffindor is done, she nods. “Very good Miss Wexler,” she says with an encouraging smile before moving onto the next one. When everyone is done, she finishes her notes and nods. “Alright. Thank you everyone for coming. I will be sending personal notes in the next few days to each of you to tell you if you have made it or not. Again, thank you all for coming, enjoy the rest of the day.”

Nodding as Rhian dismisses them, Briony waits a moment and then hops up quickly, pulling at her sleeves again and slowly making her way out of the library. She giggles as a girl behind her starts to whine about her own set of plays to announce was poorly written as she had stumbled over them, but the gryffindor says nothing, skipping a bit as she makes her way back to her commonroom to tell her friends the news.

It is a mystery to many why Valentine Selkirk enrolled in this class. Certainly, he’s never displayed any liking for muggles previously. He hasn’t even seemed particularly interested in them. But, here he is, on this first day of class, that crop of gaudily brilliant curls sailing through the classroom and into a seat along the edge of the second row, just as the bell sounds. Late? Never. But, judging by his breathing rate and the faint flush to his otherwise pallid features, he was barely able to make it.

Georgette Marshall-Wexler wanders into the Muggle Studies classroom, glancing around it in a bit of shock. How… appropriately muggle. Of course, Georgette really hasn’t the slightest idea of how something can be ‘appropriately muggle’, but she thinks this nevertheless. Pausing just inside the doorway, she pauses long enough to wait for another Slytherin girl in her year, glomming onto the girl and chattering quietly as the two take a seat near the center of the desks.

As students make their way into the muggle studies classroom and takes their seats, Phoebe Helit is busy writing up on the blackboard at the front of the class in loud deliberate strokes of the chalk “Introduction to Muggle Studies.” On her desk in front of her are several ordinary objects such as a bucket, a scrubbing brush, a bag of moth balls, a small radio, a tall electric lamp and a can of yams along with a can opener. Phoebe finishes writing on the board and turns to face her students with a bright smile. “Hello my dear little students! Welcome to third year Muggle Studies!” The professor walks to the front of her desk and looks over the rows of seats “If everyone will please remain silent…” Phoebe flashes a look at a couple of very chatty Hufflepuff girls. “My name is Professor Helit and no, before any of you ask I am not that other Professor’s wife.” Without further explanation of her relation to Quintus Phoebe continues on “Firstly, as you are all third years an this would be your first time in my class… assuming none of you had to repeat third year…” “I would like to introduce you all to the subject in a relaxed fashion.” Standing Phoebe moves to the side of her desk. “Hands raised… how many of these objects on my desk do any of you recognize?”

Valentine Selkirk‘s eyebrows rise a fraction of an inch. Perhaps, despite being a Gryffindor, he’s unused to this level of…brightness…but then it doesn’t seem to bother him much either. As bidden, he turns his gaze towards the professor’s desk. And his eyebrows rise even further. Don’t know the bag full of balls…maybe a weapon of some sort. The radio looks menacing, the electric lamp positively like a torture device. And then…a tub. And a brush. Somehow he refrains from looking too skeptical. His hand does not go up.

Oh, Georgette knows this! Or, wait, does she? Nevertheless, she pops her hand up into the air. She could use something to help her get in better with Professor Rathe, after all, so it doesn’t hurt to try. Shrugging at the girl next to her, even as she is given an odd look. Georgette‘s hand does go down ever so slightly, making her look quite a bit less enthusiastic. She does, however, manage to remain silent, rather than automatically volunteering her answer as is her usual habit.

Looking around for raised hands Phoebe‘s eyes travel over a few and when she notices Georgette’s hand lower a little she calls out “You there, Miss brown eyes!” Phoebe says in lew of not knowing the girl’s name. “Don’t be shy, if you think you know please share with the class dear.” Phoebe smiles looking at the young Slytherin girl waiting for her answer.

Valentine Selkirk giggles upon the utterance of Georgette’s new…err…title, then abruptly claps his hands down over his mouth to kill the sound. Wide-eyed and contrite, he is, even if there is just about as much laughter in those blue eyes of his as there is apology. Bad Val. Very bad Val.

Rolling her eyes at Valentine, Georgette doesn’t look particularly annoyed by his quiet giggle, though being known as ‘Miss Brown Eyes’ would not necessarily be her first choice. It beats George, right? Bringing her hand down to her lap, she clears her throat carefully, trying not to giggle as her friend stifles her own giggle. “Well, that one in the middle there, the kind of wonky-shaped one? Isn’t that a… a… ‘lectric light? Or was it a ‘lectric candle? Something like that,” she comments and shakes her head, blushing slightly at not having had the exact answer when picked.

“Why yes! Yes it is!” Phoebe says enthusiastically walking over to the lamp. “The proper pronunciation is “Electric Lamp” however.” “Good job Miss Brown Eyes, a point to… whatever house it is that you belong to.” The statement gets a bit of a giggle from some of the other students which Phoebe completely ignores. She picks up the lamp and holds it up for her students to see. “The electric lamp is used by muggles in much the same way wizarding kind uses candles or that… that charm that makes your little wands glow.” Another round of giggling to which Phoebe gives a bit of a sharp look. “It’s powered by electricity which is something we will get into later in the year.” “Some of you may well know that electric devices do not work properly here at Hogwarts so I had the charms professor enchant these for us so that you may all see how they work.” Phoebe pulls the little string dangling from the lamp causing the bulb to light itself as it normally would. “However normal lamps need to be plugged into an outlet to work…” Setting the lamp down Phoebe smiles once more leaning against her desk. “Would anyone else like to guess what another object on my desk is? Don’t be shy.”

Valentine Selkirk‘s gaze goes mistily absent, his lips moving silently, caressing the words ‘Electric Lamp’ as though intent on sucking all flavor and meaning from them before spitting the tasteless husks into a nearby waste-bin. His gaze goes even more absent, one hand reaching for his quill. In the margins of his paper, he scrawls the words ‘Why electricity not work Hogwarts?’. He then doodles a sick, deflated-looking lamp right next to it.

“Georgette Marshall-Wexler, Slytherin,” Georgette volunteers quickly, then claps a hand over her mouth, pausing and listening as the teacher begins to talk before she reaches down and pulls out some parchment, quill and ink and hastily gets set up in some semblance of order and begins scribbling onto her parchment, though the girl needn’t worry about hurrying quite so much, as nothing too much has been said. After all, she isn’t about to fail in the first five minutes of the class.

A few students raise their hands and Phoebe calls on a small blonde Hufflepuff boy. “Oh, no I am afraid that those are not candy Mister Toe-head.” Says Phoebe picking up the bag of moth balls. “These are actually called moth balls and muggles use them when storing their clothes, they are placed in the pockets of a garment and as they are poisonous they will kill any unwelcome and hungry moths that might try to take a nibble of your favorite dress.” Phoebe puts the bag down and gives the class another look over. “No one else?” “Quite alright! Let us move on.” Phoebe begins pacing in front of her desk with quiet and careful footfall, her hands behind her back. “Now I am sure you all have many questions about what we will be learning this year, and about Muggles themselves.” “So I would like you to feel free to ask anything you might be wondering, and remember the only stupid questions are the ones you don’t ask.”

Valentine Selkirk looks cautiously to his left, and then to his right. Huh. He’ll allow the silence to become distinctly awkward before…assuming it does become awkward…flicking his quill upwards to attract the professor’s attention. The feather even twirls a little in his fingers, absently.

Pausing as she looks to her friend, Georgette almost feels obligated to ask another question. Then again, she doesn’t really have anything to ask, so the girl pauses as she sees the nearby Gryffindor boy shaking his quill. Is that supposed to be a way of getting the teacher’s attention? The girl does think of something, however, and though the girl would very much like to ask it, it seems someone else beats her to it, as “Is it true that you’re a squib?” resounds abruptly from several seats behind her.

A nod is given in Valentine’s direction only for Phoebe to quickly jerk her head to look at Georgette taken a bit by surprise by the question. Only a moment passes though before Phoebe smiles again. “Yes it’s true Miss Spectacles that I am indeed a Squib, I do not mind questions at all but please do remember to raise your hand in the future dear.” Phoebe again nod’s her head to Valentine “Mister… Pale Face, did you have a question?” Yes pale face was the best name that the Helit could come up with.

Valentine Selkirk chuckles, even if his smile is a little brittle by this point. “Selkirk if you please, Professor.” he observes, blandly. “It’s shorter. I was wondering how much of a muggle education we’re to receive in this class, since I assume it will be rather difficult to understand muggle technology without having their maths and their science. Or will we not be digging that deeply?”

Georgette blushing as the person behind her gets a reprimand, the girl is clearly rather glad that she was beat to the question herself. Looking as another question is asked, Georgette starts scribbling the question down onto her parchment as she waits for the answer.

“Excellent question Mister Selkirk! A point to your house as well!” Phoebe beams at the Gryffindor and continues. “As third years it is important that you have a basic understanding of Muggle maths and Sciences. We will touch on those subjects briefly this year along with Transportation and Electricity and History.” Phoebe looks over the class hoping to see it full of excited faces before adding the kicker. “Next year you will learn about Muggle Science more in-depth. And for those of you who decide to take my NEWT level classes, you will be learning to drive an automobile.” This last part gets the reaction that Phoebe was looking for, after all what child isn’t interested in driving? “Okay, settle down now. Has anyone else got a question?”

Valentine Selkirk does not look pleased at the point addition, for some reason. But his displeasure if, indeed, it exists, is neatly swept under some rug, deep in the cobwebby corners of his personality. Down goes the quill, and his fingers interlace almost primly.

Driving an autocar? Georgette Marshall-Wexler isn’t entirely sure she likes the idea of that. It isn’t natural. After all, people were meant to ride on brooms, not on… driving things. The girl shakes her head at her friend and scribbles this information down rather slopily onto her notes, glancing around to see if anyone else is volunteering,.

“No more questions then?” Phoebe looks around for any hands once more to make absolutely sure. “Right then, Im proud of you all for participating in the discussion today.” “For homework tonight I want each of your to hand in at least a two page…. oh wait.” She stops and looks to the class “I mean two feet of parchment on a famous muggle of your choosing. You should be able to find a subject in your assigned text book “Fantastic Muggles” but don’t feel limited to just them.” Phoebe takes an eraser and begins rubbing out the chalk on the blackboard for the next class. “Class dismissed, have a nice day.”

Valentine Selkirk is up on his feet within the space of a breath, his notes and quill finding themselves slipped into his bag with a single, fluid motion. And then he is off, neatly breezing through the doorway on his way to his next class. He does not linger.

Quickly capping up things and slipping everything back into her bag, Georgette doesn’t wait but a moment to start jabbering to her friend as she stands up and soon the two Slytherin girls are on their way out of the class, giggling and talking about things that sound suspiciously not like Muggle Studies.