“Ahem!” Melvina chirps hoarsly, clearing her throat after covering her lips with a hastily risen fist. Her nose seems a bit shiney and red, and dark-colored eyes are ever so faintly puffy. “Oh, oh dear.” A late winter cold, to match the terrible that blankets world outside the cozy walls of the castle this mid-January evening. The famed library of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been done up much as it was for the last assembly of the Student Events Committee, with four of the long, plank tables edged up in to a large box shape with chairs scattered about the sides. Off to the side sits another table, laden down with the sorts of treats on might expect to encounter in mid-winter. Steaming hit cauldron cakes, gooey, melty chocolate biscuits, hissing kettles of hot chocolate and spiced tea, and curiously enough, a log of fruit cake so impressively large that if it were real wood it might fuel a common room hearth for several weeks. Sitting at the large, square table in the middle of one length opposite the door, the Headmistress shuffles a handful of parchments in front of her for a few moments, before giving a sneeze so great that she actually knocks the wide-brimmed, tall pointed hat she forever wears off her head.

Saphia Bona comes in quickly, with about fifteen different books with her, flopping down onto a desk and raising her hand immediately upon sitting down. “Headmistress Pritchard? I really really can’t stay very long with all the mid-year assignments we have, because I still have twenty books to read between Charms, Transfiguration and Potions, but I earnestly wish to help out with the ball.” She spreads the books out and looks over them in a tiny panic. “I promise I’ll offer any suggestions I can here!”

Riley Markham strolls in a few steps behind Saphia, conversely to her, completely unladen with any sort of reading material. Or anything at all, for that matter. His pack is missing, his robes are open, revealing his untucked button up and wrinkled slacks, and the leather thong that usually holds back his hair is completely missing. His wild, wine-colored locks tossed this way and that as if he had only just woken up. He passes Saphia a slightly crooked glance, as if to awe at her briefly, but without a word he flops down in to a nearest chair to him and shoves his hands in to his pockets. Already looking bored.

“…Already has an escort, and honestly, she wouldn’t tell me who it is, but it’s just appalling! A second year!” Gertrude strides in, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder and looking around haughtily. Nevermind that she’s only a third year herself — second years are so childish. The Baxtor girl scoffs a bit as she continues. “She must have used a Love potion on the poor sap who asked her, because I can’t think of any other reason he would ask her, and this soon! There are plenty of better options. Don’t you agree? Helen?” Gertrude looks to her sister, who is far from identical, for a response as she takes a seat perhaps a bit farther from Melvina than is really necessary.

“Hello, Professor Prichard,” Noémie greets the woman as she comes in and sits very close to the front, only glancing at the refreshments. No, none for her. After all, she’s far to excited about the event to even think of having sweets and things. Must maintain her figure, of course! Then again, it looks as if Noémie needs very little in the way of help with her figure. “Helen, Saphia, Riley,” she greets her housemates with a jubilant smile as she gets comfortable, crossing her ankles underneath her seat and watching as several others make their way in.

Hesitating in the doorway for a moment before entering, Kelly Pantall is decked out in as much winter gear as it would be possible to imagine on one person – earmuffs, beanie, gloves, mittens, cloaks, the works. Her approach to the table is a slow one, and not solely because of her obscene amount of winter clothing. It seems partially, at least, due to her terrible mood, for her eyes are downcast and her feet drag as she walks. “Hallo, Professor Prichard,” she offers in a low, sullen tone, taking a seat on the far side of the table, conveniently rather close to a pot of hot chocolate.

A scroll of parchment, a long quill, and a decanter of ink cradled to her chest by crossed arms, Felicity Wexler makes her way quietly in to the Library. Her cheeks already a bit rose-tinted, still having not forgotten her very first encounter with the Headmistress that had lost her house so many points at the beginning of the year. She picks out a chair, a respectable distance from the headmistress, but not so far as to seem room, then sets down her things and moves to check out the refreshments.

“Oh, I know,” Helen Baxtor opines in response, folding her arms across her chest and sniffing arrogantly. “That really is appalling. She ought to be ashamed of herself. Especially if she used a love potion. And you’re right – what alternative could there have been? No one would have asked her otherwise.” Hesitating a moment as she reaches the table, she eventually sits herself alongside her sister, combing her red hair through her fingers with a vague, disinterested expression. Then, looking up at Noémie, slightly startled, she offers a distracted, “Oh.. hello.” Another pause, and she turns back to her sister with small smirk. “How many of them do you think are just here so they can guarantee an invitation?”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Melvina says, after reaching down to collect her hat, brushing it off, and settling it back on to her silvered crown with a slightly disgruntled expression. She does find it in herself to smile past the cold, however, as she lifts a hand to wave Saphia off. A gesture that is both dismissive and friendly. “Go on, go on. I’m sure you’ll be able to help and attend the ball, and if nothing else, I’ve not doubts Mister Markham will invite you, if only so that you don’t miss out. Now off with you. Academics is more important.” And that said, she shifts her attention elsewhere. Not watching Saphia leave, nor her grandson’s reaction to her pairing him off for the ball. Instead, looking toward whom just greeted her. “Ah, Noémie, dear. Glad to see you here, dear. Glad indeed.” She gives the Ravenclaw quidditch captain a warm smile, before looking toward the room curiously. “And Miss Pantall, how are you dear?” She greets in return, dabbing at her nose with an emerald hankerchief. Lenore and Helen are given polite nods, as is Felicity. Riley, despite having been mentioned before, is curiously ignored. “So, I suppose we should be getting to this. Those of you who were here last, I assume you remember the procedure. Sit where you like, as it seems you have, and help yourself to refreshments. The policy of this committee is, quite simply, if you have an idea, offer it. If it’s seconded and thirded, we vote as a whole and if it passes, we use that idea. As you all know, the topic of coversation this day is to be the upcoming Governor’s Ball. Any questions before we begin?” A faintly amused grin touches the corners of her lips, quite despite her cold. She was already looking forward to this.

Seeming a little perplexed by the Headmistress’ greeting, Kelly looks up, shrugging her shoulders lightly, then busying herself with the hot chocolate. “Oh.. I’m alright. Thank you?” This last is offered as a question, as if she’s not quite sure that she should, in fact, be thanking Melvina for the query. But, oh look, biscuits. And hot chocolate.

Riley Markham had just started leaning back in his chair, propping it up on the two hind legs, when Melvina arbitrarily declares Saphia as his assumed date. A statement which causes him to jump so profoundly in his seat that only the fact that his foot got caught between two legs of the arranged tables keeps him from toppling backward completely. For a moment, after he has regained his balance and thrust his himself forward so that the front two chair legs collide with the floor in a resound thunk, Riley looks quite like he might scream something obscene at the Headmistress. But whatever better judgement he holds obviously grabs hold of him, as he folds his arms across his chest and sinks so low in to the chair that he might as well be laying down. His eyes narrowed in slits, that were the Unforgivable Curses, would have killed Melvina there on the spot.

Felicity Wexler pours herself some hot cocoa and cuts off a small piece of fruit log and returns to the table as soon as she hears Melvina start to speak, settling in to her chair and unstoppering her ink. She looks toward the Headmistress briefly, then around the room briefly. She had no questions, herself, but she was here last time.

“Most of them, I bet,” Gertrude whispers to her sister in a conspiratory fashion before turning her attention to Melvina. For her part, she, too, was only here to ensure an invitation, though she would never admit it, in all her life. “Well, perhaps not that prefect over there, nor that one there. She looks to be at least a fourth year, I think.” No, even the headmistress speaking cannot halt Gertrude‘s speeches to her sister.

For Noémie‘s part, she just leans back comfortably and looks at the headmistress expectantly. She ignores the whispering nearby of the Baxtor twins, as well as the giggling of some second year girls behind her. After all, she isn’t here to police library etiquete, instead to help plan for the ball coming up. A question does occur to her, however, and as is her habit, Noémie raises her hand into the air.

Peering over at the indicated girl, Helen waves her hand in the universal gesture of ‘so-so’, not committing to an opinion about the girl’s year either way. For her part, she is indeed here to secure an invitation, but is she going to admit it? Never. “Pft, of course. Children.” And, indeed, in this count she is including both those in younger years and those in the same year group as herself. Obviously, anyone other than the Baxtor twins who is not evidently older than the girls by a considerable amount is more childish, until further notice. Relaxing back in her chair, Helen seems to be paying little attention to anything other than the gossip, still combing out her hair with her fingers idly as her eyes scope the library for something else to comment on.

Setting down her green-dyed hankerchief near her empty scone plate, Melvina pushes herself up from the table with a faint nod. Preening briefly, vaguely smoothing and adjusting her robes as an old woman is want to do, she folds her hands behind her back and slowly begins to make her way about the table. “Fair, then, no questions. Good. Let us begin. When last we met, we discussed and planned the Barefoot Social. Those of you that were here, you did an excellent job. Brilliant, even. It was a smashing success, even beyond my own wildest expectations. And if I do say so, my expectations are quite, quite high.” She grins, giving a faint wink. An expression that looks decidely clownish, with her bright red nose. “Well done, pat on the back to all of you. …Oh, Noémie, dear, sorry, I missed you there,” Melvina says, appologetically, as she turns and sees Noémie’s hand in the air. “How about this? Let’s not stand on tradition of handraising, shall we? Assure equally that we’re all heard. Go ahead, Miss Ribouet. What’s your question.” She as well seems to ignore the whispering of the Baxter twins, though she does pause directly behind their chairs to look toward Noémie.

“It’s an old habit, I’m afraid,” Noémie admits with a chuckle. “Are students allowed to invite adults as their guests to the Ball?” she queries, a small grin playing on her lips as she asks this, as if she knows something the others don’t know. Her hand is now in her lap, fiddling with a ruffle on her long skirt while she still leans comfortably back in her seat.

Slipping back a little further into her seat at the mention of the Barefoot Social being a smashing success – after all, as far as she recalls, the most successful part was the fact that the boy she publically humiliated at the Social is still willing to speak to her – Kelly remains entirely silent, sipping her hot chocolate and nibbling on a biscuit quietly. After a moment, though, she tentatively begins to raise her hand – then, noting Melvina’s discouragement of this activity, adds her own question after Noémie’s, not waiting for Melvina to answer the first query put forward. “And, and, since students on the Events Committee are allowed to attend, even if they’re not fourth year or up, are we allowed to invite other younger year students as dates?” As her cheeks flush pink, she offers a quick addendum of, “I mean, not for me. Just for – you know, future reference.” Her words come a bit too quick, a bit too hurried, and eventually she just fills her mouth with biscuit to avoid the matter entirely, slipping a little further below the table. Nice one.

Riley Markham sits quietly, his gaze shifting toward Noémie with her question. A brow quirking slightly. His annoyance with his grandmother vaporating slightly as a somewhat new conundrum has manuvered in to the picture. He sits up a little, but his expression remains dark and his arms remain folded staunchly over his chest.

“Imagine, asking an adult to the ball!” Gertrude scoffs, looking slightly shocked in Noémie’s direction. “Did you ever?” Ah, a phrase so often used by her mother, for which the girl may or may not even know the correct use. “It must be her father, or perhaps a brother,” the third year slytherin decides, a snide look on her face. “I’m sure nobody else would have her with hair like that. Hmph.” Snotty, much, Gertrude? It’s an apple and tree scenario in Gertrude‘s own case, though she doesn’t realize and would never acknowledge it.

Felicity Wexler blinks, slightly, as she turns her gaze toward Noémie — that question certainly not what she had expected to hear. Though she couldn’t help but think it made sense. After all, an older student so perfect must be in to older men. It only stood to reason. School boys would be too immature for someone on Noémie’s level. A slightly frown touches her lips, and she glances briefly to notebook, then to Noémie, then to her notebook, before lifting her gaze sharply to Gertrude. Her own wild and wavy hair, bright blonde and tangly to Noémie’s brown and somewhat more controlled, falling about her face in a small bounce. “Imagine anyone asking you. Coming here is the only way you’re going to get to go, huh? Guess that’s why your only now on the club, then, is it?” A flare of fire suddenly in her voice. The hair comment having stuck a bit close to home, perhaps.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder as she hears these two questions, Helen sniffs arrogantly and shrugs her shoulders vaguely. “Imagine asking an adult.” She scoffs, raising an eyebrow at Noémie – but then, her gaze sweeps back to Kelly, and she shakes her head at the other girl. “You’re always talking about your fourth year. Wouldn’t you go with him?” Her tone is scathing, if nothing else, and without even waiting for an answer, she rolls her eyes and leans back again, turning her eyes towards the ceiling with a disapproving ‘tuh!’ sound.

“Who asked you?” Gertrude snaps at the third year Gryffindor nearby, rolling her eyes. “We’re here because we want to contribute. For your information, though I don’t know why I’m telling you, we’ve as good as got escorts.” She smirks to Helen before giving another glaring glance back Felicity’s direction and turning her eyes forward. “Honestly, some people,” Gertrude sighs to her sister, shaking her brown ringlets with a dramatic look on her face.

Melvina Prichard lofts a brow, more or less at the room on whole. Tensions seemed to be rather high today, what with her Riley’s glaring, Gertrude Baxter’s tongue, and Miss Wexler’s readiness to spar. Yes, best to head this off quickly. Placing on hand on the back of each Helen and Gertrude’s chair, as if to remind them each that the Headmistress of the school were standing directly behind them, before looking afixing Felicity with a look that quite clearly says she’d best not stoke the fire anymore. “Thank you, Miss Baxter, Miss Wexler. I think that will do. Noémie,” she says, finally looking to the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. “Yes, dear, you may. Miss Pantall,” she shifts her gaze toward Kelly then, in turn, and gives her a simple nod. “Yes, you may as well. Anyone on the events committee will be issued an invitation to the Governor’s Ball for themselves and a guest as special guests of the Headmistress of Hogwarts School. That guest is entirel y up to the choosing of the individual with the invitation, naturally. Adult or student. Now,” obviously deciding it better to move on rather than allowing the fighting to continue, she plows on through any further questions. “Planning. As I was saying, the Barefoot Social was a ravishing success, largely due to your efforts. The Governor’s Ball is going to be a lot more complicated. We’ll have not only the Hogwarts population, but adult wizards of every creed and stripe paying visit to our magical home. Indeed, it could very simply decend in to chaos without a fair bit of prior planning. And for that, I’m counting on all of you to help me.” She pauses, then pats the Baxter chairs, and begins to move around the table again. “Food will be provided by catereers, from various wizarding eateries scattered about the English Isle. But we still have the choice of items to request. We still have to pick the colors and decorations with which to shroud the hall, we still have a great many choices. And since they all blend together, I though, perhaps, we should start by looking at themes. This will be our first big milestone planning this part. We must decide on a theme.”

Felicity Wexler actually had begun to rise from her chair, and had been about to slap her palms down on to table in reaction to Gertrude’s response — She and Briony had been on relatively good behavior for a while, and the itch to fight and been spurred in her. A word starts to escape her, one that might have gotter her in to trouble all on it’s own, but Professor Prichard’s look quells her almost instantly. She dares not lose another twenty five points. A flush of crimson sweeps up on to her cheeks so quickly that one might expect steam to wistle from her ears, and she firmly ahears her gaze to her notebook to try and hide her face between the walls of her bushy mane that fall about her. “…think it’s a fine idea… asking an adult… shows maturity…” She mumbles, but says nothing more on the subject, concentrating on writing down everything Melvina says.

“Of course I’ll go with ‘my fourth year’.” Kelly snipes in response, glaring at the Baxtor twins across the table. Whatever her feelings happen to be on the issue, she does seem somewhat annoyed about the reference to Rafe – assuming it is Rafe to which the other girl refers – as ‘her fourth year’. “I was just asking for future reference.” Because that is the kind of thing you need to know for future reference, of course. Taking another biscuit and stuffing it into her mouth with unnecessary viciousness, she lowers her gaze to the table and falls into silence, only offering a small nod to Melvina in response.

“Perhaps there ought to be someone to canvas for people to cater, unless they have already been arranged,” Noémie suggests, tucking one leg under neath her before pulling the other up next to her on the seat. “Or maybe a committee. That way we’re sure to have enough food and things.” Noémie smiles, ignoring very blatantly the conversation of the twins nearby, especially as the Headmistress seems to have the situation under control.

Riley Markham had demonstrated a modicum of interest when the quasi-fight had begun, enough so that his gaze after moved away briefly from Noémie to Felicity and Gertrude with a slightly arched brow. Any attention to the others is short-lived as Melvina’s answer not only allows Noémie the approval to invite an adult, but full carblanche to invite whoever she darn well pleases. A funny, contorted expression dances over his face, not unlike he were constipated, and he finally turns his gaze ceilingward with a dull expression. “What sort of themes?” He says, in a bored tone. Melvina’s ignoring him obviously was being paid in return. “Like, “Enchantment Under The Sea” or a masquerade or somethinge cheesy like that?”

“Very sage, Miss Ribouet,” Melvina nods, approvingly. “I already have taken care of a large amount of securing the foodstuffs for the evening. I have over seventeen differant Wizarding eateries and groceries pulled on board already. I’m only missing deserts and refreshments this far, though I had considered simply contacting Honeydukes down in Hogsmeade. It seems the logical choice, though I had hoped to offer the students and vistors something a bit more exotic. Students are able to visit Honeydukes every Hogsmeade weekend, after all, and while I love them — especially their double-layer sparkling truffles–” said with no small amount of hinting “–it would be good for a taste of variety. And yes, Mister Markham, exactly that. A theme will help shape everything together, and allow us to set the finer details as we go.” Kelly’s barb is ignored for the moment, but her nod is offered a faint smile. Push on and leave no time for arguements. “Now, ideas for themes, anyone?”

A thoughtful moment seems to pass through Kelly‘s venomous annoyance as she thinks over different ideas for themes before she finally offers one forth, though her tone is uncertain and tentative at best. “Er… maybe, ‘All That Glitters’? Or, or, ‘Classics’?” These ideas seem to be offered merely for the sake of offering ideas, for she seems not at all attached to either of them, and she shrugs her shoulders vaguely and reaches for another biscuit. She’s not just here for the food, of course not.

“My aunt could do it,” Felicity says, quietly, to her parchment. It taking almost a full moment for her to realize that the slightly squeaky, embaressed voice that just floated out in to the air was her own. Blinking, twice, she looks up slowly and swallows a breath. Why did things always fall apart for her like this. “Cousin, actually. Not my aunt. But I call her aunt, because everyone else my age does, but–” With a small wince and a shake of her head, as if to clear the cobwebs of embaressment and the lingering anger from before, Felicity presses on. “My aunt could do it. Not the theme, I mean, but the deserts and refreshments. She owns a sweets shop in Diagon Alley, and specializes in exotic sweets foreign and domestic. I’m sure you could ask Aunt Sibyl–Madam Wexler to talk her in to it. She’s really quite good. I think I still have some of the chocolates she sent me for Yule, you could try them.” Confidence sweeps in to her again by the end of the her spiral of words, and by the time she’s finished, her cheeks are only slightly rosy.

“Certainly,” Helen replies, her voice dripping with quiet sarcasm, arching her eyebrows curiously at Kelly before she finally shakes her head and distracts herself with something else – in this case, the state of her nails, which largely occupies her mind for a long moment before she leans towards her sister and offers the quiet remark, “Some of the students here need a serious lesson in taste, don’t you think? They’re so… so…” She waves a hand, unable to find an appropriate word, trailing off into a somewhat disgusted silence.

“Oh, I’ve been in there, her sweets are brilliant,” Noémie comments slapping her hands together in a bit of an excited clap. “Perhaps we could have something enchanting. Maybe snowy, icy, with faeries. A bit of a wintertime … hmmm… Wintertime Wonderland?” The prefect suggests, draping her arms around the one leg that has been brought up to her chest. “With everything white and blue, and looking snowy. I imagine we could manage some ice sculptures, and perhaps Professor Helit could bring in some fairies to create a bit of shimmer to the decor?” The artist in Noémie seems to be coming out in this idea as she spouts her idea for the theme.

“So,” Melvina says, sharply, turning on her heel and moving to sit herself on the edge of the table next to Helen’s free side. Her arms folded across her chest and a brow lofted. Her smile is both amused, but somewhat serious. Obviously, she’d cleared the wake of the table already while going on earlier. “You seem to be a young lady of impeciable taste,” the words laced with emphisis. Old as she may be, obviously her hearing is still keen. “A theme, dear. What say you for a theme?” She does, however, allow Helen the reprieve of time, as she shifts her gaze to Felicity, then to Noémie, nodding sagely. “Very good, then. I’ll talk to Madam Wexler and see if she can’t put me in touch with you–relative, dear. Very good, indeed.” She nods, thoughtfully, to Noémie’s theme idea, considering it briefly. The memory that she had only just meant to put Helen on the spot having faded briefly. “Not bad.”

“You said it,” Gertrude whispers to her sister, before the headmistress comes to sit next to her sister. The girl’s eyes widen ever so slightly as she looks up at the professor. “Er–” is all she can manage, before she realizes that it isn’t her who’s being addressed, and Gertrude is grateful for this. Instead of attempting to bail her sister out, she merely sits mutely and looks at her fingernails as if she has suddenly grown new fingers.

Briefly, Helen seems stunned to be put on the spot and entirely perplexed, sitting up a little straighter, uncertain about what to suggest. After a moment of hesitation, though, she offers the smooth suggestion, “Something tasteful, but not limiting. How about just an unthemed Masquerade Ball?” Her tone calm and collected, if a bit uncertain, as if she is – and, indeed, this is probably the case – just making it up as she goes along. To offset this, she smiles as innocently as she can muster, though this does not last long before the urge to roll her eyes at her fellow students overcomes her and she flops back into her lazy position, staring back up at the thoroughly unexciting ceiling.

Riley Markham gazes off in to space for several moments, thoughtlessly, before lifting his head slowly and shifting his attention toward Noémie. “Wintertime Wonderland, or a masque. If we’re supposed to be socializing and building ties with the adult world, wouldn’t a masque be a little counterproductive? You’re not supposed to let anyone know who you are at a masque, right? Doesn’t make sense. The winter things sound a bit of a lark, though. On season, at any rate.”

Felicity Wexler nods, as well, slowly. “I don’t know that a masque makes sense, either. Wintertime Wonderland sounds simple enough, especially right after Yule. We could get discounted decorations, I’ll bet..” She muses, thoughtly, lifting her quill to her lips and nibbling on it. “All That Glitters wasn’t bad, either.”

“Maybe it could be done up like a garden. Professor Walsh would love it, I’d wager,” Gertrude contributes, not really looking at anyone else particularly. “Do up everything in green and flowers, get ready for spring and all that?” Gertrude‘s response is nearly the opposite of Noémie’s, though it is in the same sort of theme, and yet the girl seems rather proud that she’s thought of it. “Everyone could wear flowers to it.”

Riley Markham nods, thoughtfully, after a moment, shifting his gaze toward Gertrude almost as if impressed. “Not bad. We could do it up in one of the greenhouses, maybe? enchant it like that tend, so it’s bigger inside, to fit all the people? Or even still in the great hall, just have Walsh do up everything in there, so it’s still warm?” He shrugs, slightly. Almost in spite of himself, his curiousity and the willingness to create was pulling him in.

“Four seasons!” Noémie chimes cheerfully, sitting up straighter and putting her feet back onto the floor. “We could have all four seasons represented over the course of the night. At first, it could be spring, and then it could blossom into summer, and then to fall, then to winter, to top off the night. Of course, it would take a lot of charm-work to get it to work right, but imagine the spectacle! ‘The Four Seasons Ball’ or something, don’t you think?” Noémie waves her hands about, showing with her hands what she describes with her voice as she stands and nearly jumps with excitement.

Melvina Prichard nods, thoughtly, having been fairly partial to the notion of “All That Glitters”. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that Noémie’s last idea seemed bright enough. A wonderful comprimise. “Nice idea, my dear, nice indeed. A fair comprimise, nearly all around. Seconded. Thirded, anyone?”

Waving a hand vaguely above her head, having tuned out most of the conversation in favour of various snack foods which she has been steadily plowing through, with the help of plenty of hot chocolate, Kelly nods her agreeance. “Thirded, I suppose,” she volunteers, though her voice is low and sullen yet again.

Melvina Prichard nods, noting that both Riley and Felicity had lifted their hands to indicated thirding as well. That seemed to put the majority in lead. “Vote, then. In favor.” And she lifts her own hand, Riley and Felicity both follow likewise.

Well, at least her idea was sort of included. And at least it meant that she didn’t have to go digging in any yucky dirt to create the decorations. Gertrude apathetically puts her hand up and leans back against the table, stifling a bit of a mock-yawn as she looks to Helen. The slytherin is clearly unimpressed with the idea outwardly, though it was better than her own.

Shrugging her shoulders vaguely, Helen raises her hand idly, still inspecting the nails of her other hand. Why not vote, after all? She does, however, lean across to Gertrude, gesturing vaguely to another female student, and whispers, “Oh, goodness. Do you think that girl has ever heard of a comb? Can we say ‘ew’?”

“Well, that does seem to be the majority then, doesn’t it?” Melvina chirps, happily, after counting hands. “Very good, Miss Ribouet. The theme of the Governor’s Ball will be ‘Four Seasons’. Take ten points, dear.” A deep breath fills Melvina, which ends in a tremendous sneeze that she only barely contain with her hands. Her hat tumbles off once more, this time in front of Helen. “Okay, that’s enough for today, I think. We can meet again after a time, finish up the details. Good work, all. Five points all around.”

“Brilliant,” Noémie smiles happily and claps her hands a bit. “Can’t wait until we get together again,” she tells Melvina and stands up, looking around at everyone with a happy smile, then strides off slowly, making her way out of the library. Where she’s going is anyone’s guess, but she’s whistling happily as she goes, her hands tucked neatly into the pockets of her skirt.

Nodding to the Headmistress, Kelly picks herself up from the table and shuffles out of the library, though admittedly she does slip several chocolate biscuits into her pockets. Waste not, want not, eh? Her uncharacteristic quietness – probably related, in some way, to the seasonal chill to the air and her embarassed question during the meeting – continues, remaining entirely unexplained, though she does mumble to herself on her way out the door, perhaps just loudly enough to be overheard by the others. “‘My fourth year’ – tuh!”

Melvina Prichard waits for everyone to leave, before vanishing the food she’d had made for the meeting and collecting her parchments to leave as well. Only after taking up her hankerchief and wiping off her hands.

“Honestly,” Gertrude scoffs, standing as Melvina bids them to go. The girl turns. “Anyway, we’ve got to get together with Suki and Nellie soon to get to work on that paper some more. After all, we’ll need our first issue out before the ball comes, so we can start a Ball Edition.” The girl strides out of the library, chatting about various things, more gossipy than not.

Pushed against the wall, the tables are out of the way and the benches stacked neatly upon them. This semester has been much the same for the fifth year class, with little to no personal space outside of where people decide to set their bookbags. Seated upon her desk, Astra waits for her students to arrive for class. As she does so often, she shifts through a pile of papers and then sets them back down.

Perched on another one of the tables, long legs swinging as they dangle from the edge, is Eliza Marlowe. The Head Girl is still serving as Professor Rathe’s teaching assistant, and still looks like she is enjoying every minute of it – the resting expression on her face is an easy grin, which widens in greeting as the class begins to enter.

Noémie Ribouet strides into the classroom, looking at nothing in particular. The prefect seems almost distracted as she sets her bag down near the doorway, keeping only her wand on her person. Perhaps today she would manage an actual Patronus, rather than wisps of white smoke.

Ivy Thornweld almost stalks after Noémie, boring holes into the back of the girl’s head with her eyes. Well, not literally. As soon as there are other people, especially given that one of them is Professor Rathe, Ivy straightens, averts her glance elsewhere, and moves as far away from Noémie as she can to set down her books with a soft huff.

Once all the students have arrived, Astra hops off her desk. Spreading her arms out in a wide gesture once she smiles, “Glad to see you’re all here today. Now I think we know the routine by now. Everyone up against the right hand wall and take out your wands. I want to see if some of you can actually produce your Patronus today.” Nodding to Eliza, she continues, “Miss Marlowe and I will be on hand to assist those of you who may need a little extra help.” “Miss Marlowe, if you’d make sure everyone is situated properly so no one gets hurt?” Grabbing the stack of papers, Astra then walks toward the entrance and sets them on the edge of one table while everyone settles in for the day’s lesson.

“Right.” Launching herself off her own desk in a wider arc than the professor, Eliza lands lightly on her feet and takes off around the room. “Good – no, move a little to your left, Tremont – perfect, perfect – ” She keeps up a steady commentary as she circulates between the rows of students, all shuffling to get themselves in order. As Eliza passes behind Ivy, she pauses, giving the Slytherin girl a slightly longer look than she gives the student next to her. “You all right, Thornweld?” she murmurs, leaning in to speak softly enough so that nobody else can hear. “Won’t help if you go into the lesson angry.”

As irony would have it, Noémie has situated herself right next to Ivy, and while this was not an intentional action, the Ravenclaw does not appear to be bothered by it. She puts her wand at the ready and takes a deep breath. Patronus, happy thoughts. “How are things, Ivy?” Noémie comments rather quietly, not hearing Eliza’s comments to said person, and really not listening all that well for a response as she mentally prepares herself to make a patronus.

Ivy Thornweld blinks at Eliza. “Yes, thank you, Miss, I’m fine.” She flashes a bright smile just to prove the point. Of course, something in her eyes says ‘Shoo, I don’t need to share with you’. The smile fades entirely when she turns and sees that it is, of all people, Noémie standing next to her and chatting. “Miss Ribouet,” she is much much too bright when she says, “I’m just fine, how are you? You know I just got a letter from my Mr. Fleuve, did I ever show you the bracelet he gave me for Christmas?” Her voice carries, hopefully, to a certain Hufflepuff boy as well. Now she turns and pulls out her wand, hoping there will be a lot of ignoring of each other going on now.

“These,” pointing at the stack of papers the professor then explains, “are your essay questions for next week. I expect you to choose two of the three and answer them with references.” Astra walks in front of the assembled fifth years checking their position and their stance. “You all look good to me. Miss Marlowe you may wish to step aside.” “Very well, now then, everyone together ‘Expecto Patronum!’”

With a single long nimble stride, Eliza steps out of the way of the rest of the class. Her hand swoops down to pull her wand from her belt, and in a smooth, continuous motion, she raises it into casting position. “Expecto Patronum!” she declares, along with the rest of the class. A white plume shoots out of the end of her wand, resolving swiftly into the form of an eagle, which spreads its wings and soars up in a silent arc.

“No, I don’t believe you did, Miss Thornweld,” Noémie responds, chuckling a bit at Ivy’s comments. “Perhaps you could show me after class.” With this, Noémie‘s voice hushes and she looks to Astra for instructions. Alright, ballet recital, Quidditch game, her last birthday… “Expecto Patronum!” A cloud of silvery smoke swirls out into the air in front of her, and there is just the slightest shape of an animal there, though it appears to be more of a blob with a tail.

Suki hangs tightly onto her wand as she announces, “Expecto Patronum!” The girl glances somewhat nervously at the Head Girl as she does so, hoping the spell will work well for once. Wand-work was never Suki‘s strength, but that hardly mattered. Suki would never need to know complicated spells once she graduated. Eyeing the end of her wand after the incantation, Suki huffs as the bright, silvery mammal erupts, rather hunched and not very intimidating, in Suki‘s mind. Why was hers a hyena?

Ivy Thornweld occasionally dreams of putting all her professors in a room and chaining them to desks while handing out essay after essay and tearing them up without grading them. Ivy occasionally wakes up in the middle of the night very bored. Other comes her wand, up scrunches her nose, and “Expecto Patronum!” produces a puff of silvery smoke and mnothing else. Okay, Ivy, think Happy Thoughts. Isn’t there a muggle play like that? Ivy! Focus. Summertime… “Expecto Patronum!” There’s no change. Her cheeks flush as she recalls something else, but this time her Patronus comes out fully formed, a ram with huge, curling horns and pointy little hooves. Horrifed, she stares and murmurs something about ‘Stupid sheep herder.’

Cracking a smile at the attempts made by her students Astra notes the various forms. “Excellent try, now then.” Pulling out her own wand, she doesn’t normally bother with this except to demonstrate the proper way to cast a certain curse or hex. Picking out one student, she sidles in next to Noémie and gives the girl a grin. “Try it again, and remember to put conviction into your casting as well as your thoughts.” Demonstrating the motions, she does not speak the words. “Use force too, this is not one of those spells that rely on subtlety.”

“Conviction,” Noémie repeats after Astra says this, gripping her wand a bit tighter and resituating herself. The fifth year looks down at the teacher once, then down at the ground for several moments, trying to come up with happier memories. She finds that she has already thought of the things that make her happiest, so instead she focuses on them harder. “Conviction,” the girl mumurs once more, closing her eyes then pointing her wand energetically out and nearly shouting, “Expecto Patronum!” This time, a more formed patronus appears, looking to be some sort of creature on four legs with a long tail. Noémie lets out a resounding laugh joyfully as she sees this. “Nearly!”

“Go away now,” Suki Korosu-Dawson says pointedly to her skulking patronus. “You’re ugly,” she notes, crossing her arms and turning on her heel towards the professor. Sticking up her hand but speaking straight after, Suki inquires in something of a whiny tone, “Patronus animals can change, can’t they Professor Rathe?” The last thing Suki needed was a grinning hyena saving her from mortal peril.

“Good show, Thornweld,” Eliza murmurs, as she slips between the rows. Then, breaking free of the crowd, she strides around the edge of the room, on her way to the other side to deal with another group of students. “Rodgers – I thought you had it last week?” the Head Girl says, coming to rest beside an anxious-looking Ravenclaw girl. “Everything all right?” Eliza gives the younger girl a friendly thump on the shoulder, and says with a grin, “You heard the professor – conviction! Here, let’s try it again.” Side by side with the Ravenclaw girl. Eliza moves her wand in the spell’s pattern, walking her through it. And it pays off – as the two girls declare “Expecto Patronum!” together, the younger one produces a puff of silvery smoke that turns into a monkey, scampering away below Eliza‘s eagle.”

Ivy Thornweld actually looks proud of herself, for all that her Patronus is of the boy-sheep variety. It charges, head down, in a circle for a minute and then dissolves. Noticing that the others are trying again to make them more solid (Ivy‘s ram had had a kind of wispy rear end), she thinks again of her happy thoughts–her face goes dark a minute and she shakes her head. That would never do. Happy thoughts! Mustering up something really good, she says without about as much convinction as she’s ever said anything, “Expecto Patronum!” Out comes a ram with very ridgey horns and shiny silver eyes… and yet his back end is kind of whispy. “Professor Rathe, is it supposed to be perfectly formed to be right?”

“Well done!” Astra crows happily after the next attempts. As always, whines grate on her nerves and she breaks rank, making eye contact with Suki, before addressing Ivy’s question. “The clearer definition that a Patronus has the more good it will do you. You’re doing quite well and you still have the rest of the semester to perfect it. Don’t worry so much.” Turning then, she looks back to Suki “Yes Miss Korosu-Dawson, a person’s Patronus may indeed change. That’s a very good point, but whining about it isn’t going to change what comes out of that wand. Now riddle me this. Why would a person’s Patronus change? What circumstances or changes would a person have to experience in order to see their Patronus change?” Striding down the row of students, she comes to stop in front of Eliza, “Is anyone able to answer this question?”

Noémie‘s hand shoots up into the air as she forgets all about her mostly-formed patronus, anxious to be the one to answer the question. She remembered this from her reading! At least, she thought she did; only Professor Rathe would be able to tell if she was correct.

The Head Girl tilts her head in a half-nod, half-shrug, as she looks down to meet the professor’s eyes – she has gone through this class before, after all. But Eliza looks over at the Ravenclaw girl next to her, and from there, her hazel eyes skim over the rest of the class, scanning for raised hands, or the anxious motions that might signify knowledge of the answer without raising a hand.

Suki Korosu-Dawson doesn’t read. From textbooks, anways. Or, more accurately, she doesn’t retain the information she reads from dull tomes. Still, it never hurt to hazard a guess, and she sighs as she raises her hand, too. Sure she’s answering, in effect, her own question.

“Very well, it seems we have two volunteers to answer this question.” Astra rounds back to where Noémie stands but points to Suki, “Miss Korosu-Dawson you may answer first. Miss Ribouet, please feel free to answer after Miss Korosu-Dawson has answered to the fullest of her abilities.”

Suki Korosu-Dawson was not suppsed to be chosen first! Lowering her hand with one eyebrow raised, Suki utters a low “Uhh,” before catching herself, sniffing and flipping her hair over her shoulder as she replies smartly, “Your patronus’ shape depends on which memory you focus on. Mine’s a hyena because I always think of the time Tallis likened one of our friends to an overweight poodle,” Suki says, crossing her arms once more.

Looking at Suki as if she’d lost her mind, Noémie shakes her head a bit, and then smiles. Ah, it’s her turn. “Major life events that somehow alter oneself can cause a patronus to change. It isn’t a definitive thing, something that can be measured, but it happens after one has gone through trials or something very changing and had their ‘self’ changed for going through it.” The Ravenclaw nods curtly afterward, ignoring the fact that she sounds just like a textbook as she gives her answer.

“Unfortunately for the Slytherin, it would seem that Miss Ribouet’s answer is correct. Three points to Ravenclaw for having the answer to the question, rather than avoiding the question entirely.” Giving Noémie the smallest of smiles Astra then rounds on Suki, “Miss Korosu-Dawson your memories feed the Patronus but do not guide it. You cannot demand what shape it takes anymore than a baby can decide what color hair it is to have.” “Furthermore, your answer avoided my question entirely. Next time you raise your hand to volunteer at least make an attempt.”

“Fine, whatever,” Suki replies under her breath, turning her back on the professor to see that her patronus has, likely, long faded. So, Suki would have to go on a life-altering inner journey to change her patronus? Truthfully, she’d been only half listening to Noémie. Suki was very distracted by a crease in the Ravenclaw’s robe… or maybe it was the light? No matter. Life-altering anything was too much work. “Looks like I’m stuck with an ugly hyena,” she comments, inspecting her finger nails.

Ivy Thornweld listens to Noémie’s answer with a slight frown, and then her cheeks color. She looks, attempting to discretion, over at The Hufflepuff Boy very, very briefly, and shifts. Her ram again does a circle, this time chasing after a Gryffindor girl’s bouncing silvery hare before dissolving. Ivy does something she almost never does: She raises her hand.

“Ah,” Noémie responds happily, for earning points for Ravenclaw is always a good thing in her eyes. “Should we give the patronuses — patronusi? — another go, then, Professor?” the girl asks, putting her wand more or less at the ready while she looks around. She does not look in Suki’s direction again, for though she did not hear what Suki said, she did hear the girl mutter, and that could not turn out well.

It takes a great deal of effort for Eliza not to respond to Suki’s first suggestion of what could change a Patronus, and even more for her not to respond to what Suki’s happy memory was. Eliza‘s mouth remains tightly shut, and she remains silent, maintaining all the dignity of her position. – but her eyes narrow, and her cheeks start to flush an angry red, and she scans the room swiftly, on guard to see if there are any students who look particularly upset at the memory. Knowing Suki, she might just say something like that in front of the person she’d originally been taunting. The Head Girl relaxes a bit when the other students jump in, and even flashes Noémie a grin after she gives the correct answer. But at Suki’s disrespectful response to the professor, though, Eliza‘s face reddens even more, and she actually takes a step forward, her head lifting in shocked, defensive anger.

“I’ve had it with your attitude Miss Korosu-Dawson.” There’s a distinct warning in Astra‘s frigid tones as she speaks to the Slytherin. “Do not turn your back on me when you are in my presence and then continue with such impudence. It is impertinent and disrespectful. That’s five points for pure cheek and as you’re Slytherin you can count on a detention.” Coming down hard and swift on the girl, what little color the professor had in her cheeks has drained. “In fact since you don’t seem to appreciate what I’m trying to teach you, you can have mandatory study sessions with me every week for the rest of the semester.” Having brought a swift and merciless sentence upon the Slytherin girl, she shakes her head to Noémie. “The class is dismissed; remember to take your essay questions on the way out.”

Ivy Thornweld lowers her hand and glares a little bit at the back of Suki’s head (it will turn into a sympathetic smile should the girl look Ivy‘s way). Putting away her wand, the Thornweld girl grabs her bag and a paper with the essay questions on it. For all that she’s not particularly tall, she moves swiftly, and it’s almost as if she was barely in the class at all.

Noémie can’t help but gawk a bit as Suki is given mandatory study with her own House Head, from whom she has even lost points, but quickly gathers up her things, resolving that she would definitely practice on her patronus more, and soon. She is soon over by her bag, studiously ignoring glances from a group of Slytherins who seem to be wispering about some ‘goodie-two-shoes’ in the class. Soon the girl has procured her questions and then slips out of the room as discreetly as she can manage.

Knowing full well (from experience) that additional sass will only make things worse, Suki only tears her attention away from her nails long enough to grimace falsely at Astra, answering, “Yes, professor,” in what she hopes is interpreted as a humble tone. She flashes her best ‘hurt’ expression in Eliza’s direction, furrowing her eyebrows and putting her hands behind her back. Her eyes are narrowed, however, at the know-it-all textbook Noémie. Suki would remember this.

Eliza meets Suki’s pout with a hard, steady look. Slowly, her long arms cross; slowly, she leans back against the wall and crosses one foot over the other; and she keeps watching Suki long after the younger girl has turned away. Only after Suki has left does Eliza break her gaze, and toss off a few friendly goodbyes to the other students.

Noémie Ribouet sits near the edge of the Quidditch pitch, broom in hand, and some sandpaper. It appears as if the prefect wants to salvage her broom from the destruction it befell during the most recent Quidditch match. Any bystander could see that the broom is clearly beyond repair, and that the girl should get a new one, but more than not, it seems a reason to be out on the pitch, in the solitude and quiet that is enveloping it while most of the Quidditchers do homework rather than practice.

A peace and quiet that soon, of course, is interrupted by a chaser coming onto the pitch and yelling about another player shutting them out of the offense, or a beater complaining about how poorly they’re appreciated, or a keeper trying to argue that the beaters need to do a better job. Or, of course, it could just be a fan (named Saphia) running onto the pitch and burbling excitedly in a near incomprehensible mass of factoids, “Ms. Ribouet! We won, we won! How exciting is it! Oh I’m terribly sorry about your broom of course, that was very unfortunate, but we won the game! Not that we shouldn’t have expected to mind you, the Gryffindors flew headlong into the tightest pockets of defense over and over again, you think they’d have noticed that Clavicle was over-reaching to the right hand side of the pitch for most of the game. If they’d tried a low left field approach we would have been in terrible trouble, we had nobody near it for about the first thirty minutes of play, but they never did so we WON, Ms. Ribouet!”

“Yes, I know, Saphia,” Noémie replies to the younger student, trying not to stare too obviously as the girl excitedly blathers at her about the match. “Well, I suppose all of our practices did us some good then, hmm? Even the one in the rain.” The girl chuckles a bit as she mentions this and watches Saphia closely. “I imagine Gryffindor was too busy trying to steal the Quaffle back to even think of going that route.” Noémie shrugs a bit at this and sets aside her broom and sandpaper, obviously giving it up for lost.

“Mind you, I think we were lucky for that matter. I know our chasers are young, but still — All three of them flew right at the goal posts every time we had the quaffle, and if we’d actually scored off any of them I’m certain we’d have been called for stooging, three times. Three times!” Saphia raises three of her fingers, just in case you didn’t hear her. “Our passing was very good though, you’re right the practices did help, we had nearly half as many again passes…”

“Wait, hold on, Saphia,” Noémie stops the girl, interrupting. “What on earth is stooging? And how does it pertain to Quidditch?” The fifth year stares a bit more openly at the second year, an eyebrow raised. Honestly, what on earth was the girl babbling about? Stooging, scoring, left-ward weaknesses… Noémie awaits the answer, appearing rather baffled.

Saphia Bona stops in mid-rave, pausing to blink herself back into a responsive mindset. “Oh, um, stooging is one of the basic fouls of Quidditch.” She nods, earnestly, “Introduced in 1884. It prevents more than one Chaser entering the opposing scoring zone at a time — Really, it’s meant to prevent manhandling of the keeper, but what they did was technically stooging.” She declares.

In all her years of Quidditch, Noémie has never heard of such a foul. Of course, she has only really enthusiastically pursued the sport for five years now, but even so. “Fascinating,” she responds frankly, standing up and picking up her broom as she does so. “Now, how do you know about this? I’ve never heard of such a foul called in all my five years here.” Noémie watches Saphia as she answers quickly. It seems as if the girl is a bit of a walking text-book.

“From Ray and A.Js Incredible Guide to Quidditch and the Destruction Thereby,” Saphia smiles, “Which, honestly, wasn’t really that very good. More a humor book, really, but it did cover the basics. I preferred the Comprehensive Quidditch Handbook by Molly Minutiae, while it doesn’t list every foul, it lists every one the Ministry has allowed to be made publicly known. Including a few really frightful ones, like ‘Attacking an Opponents Broom with an Ax’ — I mean, honestly, who on earth is going to ever need to call that?”

“I can see that one,” Noémie laughs a bit as she imagines someone trying to mutilate someone’s broom with an axe. “Do you just read Quidditch books for fun, then?” Noémie queries, crossing her arms with her broom in one hand and the sandpaper in the other. Well, she ought to have stopped trying to save the broom anyway. She would just have to owl her parents about needing a new one.

Pausing to consider that question, Saphia declares, “Well, I… I mean… ” It’s something that’s thrown her. Eventually she declares, “Well, I guess so. But once I get interested in something, I just can’t stop.”

“I can’t say that’s necessarily a bad thing. To be good at something requires a passion, and clearly, that is a form of passion.” The captain nods momentarily, looking down at the Junior Squad member. She appears to be pondering something. “Saphia, you’re at every practice, are you not?” What Noémie is getting at is yet to be seen.

“Of course!” Saphia whispers, smiling. “I couldn’t let Clavicle and Riley be out here alone, goodness knows what trouble they’d get up to…” She trails off a bit, looking a little sad.

Noémie nods knowingly. After all, she’s been practicing with them for many weeks now. “Well, if you’re always here, you might as well be useful. Don’t sit in the stands next time, come down to the pitch. Perhaps you could point out some other things we’re doing wrong.” She pauses. “After all, we don’t want to be called on, er, scrooging in the future.”

Saphia Bona blinks. “Um, but… but what could I do? I mean, I help out where I can… packing up the quaffle and the bludgers… well, not the bludgers, I can never hold onto them, but…”

“Just waht I said, Saphia: Point out what we’re doing wrong in practices. If it comes down to losing a game over a foul, I’d rather not lose because we’ve been practicing wrong all this time.” Noémie smiles a bit at the younger student and uncrosses her arms, tucking the sandpaper into one pocket while still holding the broom in the other. “You’re interested in the books, and you seem to notice these things. It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Saphia Bona blinks again, and nods. “I… I’d be delighted, Ms. Ribouet!” She pauses, trying to find words. “S… sort of an assistant coach?”

“More or less, yes,” Noémie says after just a moment of thought. “I think it would be very helpful to the team if we had an external eye keeping tabs on things, don’t you?” Noémie smiles a bit more at Saphia as she says this, trying to be as encouraging as she can manage.

Actually jumping up and down in excitement, Saphia nods enthusiastically, “I’d be honored, Ms. Ribouet!” Pausing, she blushes and whispers, “I… I had best go and borrow out the copy of Quality Quidditch from the Library, and get myself reacquainted. I wouldn’t want to miss anything!”

Resisting the urge to laugh rather uproarously at this response, Noémie pats Saphia on the shoulder. “If that’s what you need to do, then do it. You prepare yourself for it in any way you like.” She chuckles a bit. “I’ll make a note of it to the team when we convene for practice next and explain to them how things will be. Sound alright?”

Saphia Bona nods, and again whispers, “I won’t let you down, Ms. Ribouet! I promise, I won’t!”

Landon is totally and utterly excited! He’s buzzing and jumping about and grinning from ear to hear. Of course, the crowd can’t tell because Landon looks a neutral as ever on the outside. His broom is grasped firmly in his hand and he is holding his beater’s bat between his arm and his side. He uses the free hand to wave at the audience in no particular rhythm. A few waves here, a finger-wiggle there, and arm flap after he gets a little further towards the center. When he reaches his spot, he stops and just stands like a Landon-Statue.

Gabriel is psyched. Holding his broom well off the ground as he makes his way onto the pitch with his team, Gabriel looks around, reminding himself to take cleansing deep breaths. “We’ll win this,” he says aloud, switching his broom from his left hand to his right. Looking to Keelan as she speaks, Gabriel gulps a little, glancing at Briony.

Briony, who has all week been practically shivering with excitement, looks a bit green in the face now as she strides onto the familiar pitch. An unfamiliar sight greets her as she makes her way out behind Gabriel. There are far more people here than she ever remembered seeing at a match, all with their eyes down on the pitch as the teams collect and get situated. Oh, Briony is very nervous now and she hardly hears what Keelan says; she is far too distracted by all the commotion.

It is a clear day, free of rain, and Noémie smiles a bit as she pauses at the edge of the pitch. The fifth year has a determined smile on her face as she makes her way to the center of the pitch, holding on to her broom and comes to a stop near where Keelan is. “Yes, Professor,” she responds, as she always does and puts her hand out to Marie-Anna. The Ravenclaw’s hair is skillfully pulled back for once, rather than flying all over the place in a mess of wavy light brown, for better sight of the snitch.

Clavicle Gravely comes striding out carrying his Sandsweeper 25. The Egyptian broom has sleek lines. He waves to the Ravenclaw stands and yells “AUK AUK!”

Keelan Walsh is already in the center of the pitch, perched atop the box that holds the Quidditch balls. Her broom is nearby, waiting for it’s use. Today, her robes are a somber shade of deep red. The whistle hanging about her neck shines in the autumn sun, and she plays with it idly, waiting for the children to arrive. When they do, she stands up, shoulders straight, and says, “Captains? Shake hands, nice and sportsmanship-like, now.” with a grim smile.

Broom in hand Marie-Anna stands in suitable position that she may shake the opposing captains hand. Upon the professors call the Gryffindor beater shakes Noémie’s proferred hand, offering the Ravenclaw captain a polite smile.

Van stalks behind the rest of her team, gripping tightly to her broom. The Seventh year isn’t too excited, but a faint smile is still plastered across her lips as she gazes out into the stands. She breathes out a little laugh at Clavicle, shaking her head a little but in no belittling way.

Tegan makes her way onto the pitch, a foul look on her face. The fourth-year beater grips her bat in one hand and her broom in the other and stops far to Noémie’s left, looking the Gryffindor beaters up and down, sizing them up before the start of the match. Tegan is now seasoned to the matches, and she has to suppress the urge to laugh as she looks at the faces of some of the newer players, who look rather nervous. She says nothing, and no sounds emit from her while she stands there, waiting the beginning whistle, just smirking.

Andy Carver‘s heart pounds with excitement as he enters the pitch with his team. He has clenched his right hand around his broom to minimise the trembling. He takes a few deep breaths, lines up near Gabriel and nods towards him slightly, not being able to force himself to a smile.

Josh MacLean is pale beneath his freckles, his eyes wide and his newly-developed adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows nervously. He raises a hand to his mouth to chew on a fingernail, but puts it back down at his side after accidentally tasting the leather of his gloves, proceeding to stand somewhat near Landon, and waits, his knuckles white with his hand clenched tightly around his broom.

David walks in line with the other players of his team, holding his Moonsweeper over his left shoulder. He punches his right fist in the air, saluting the Ravenclaws who were cheering on the team from their bleachers. It is a fine day for flying, and David is feeling exceptionally confident, owing to the inordinate amount of training the team captain arranged for the whole team… he certainly feels less frightened than on his first match last year.

Quidditch! Hooray! Tybalt‘s favourite sport on the planet. He lives for it, he’d die for it, and it is the best opportunity in the world to show off! He slicks his hair back with a graceful movement of his hand and pulls on the bands of his fingerless gloves a few times – just for how of course, they’re already firmly attached to his hands. Once he’s done with that move he waves towards a group of girls that are frantically waving their red and gold banners at him in an attempt to get his attention. He winks in their direction and they all shriek with giggles and start talking excitedly amongst themselves. Now, off towards the center of the pitch! After a slinking along in a graceful fashion, Tybalt reaches the seeker’s spot and stands tall and proud, waving like he’s the one who invented Quidditch, or something.

Clavicle says, “Auk! Auk!” he grins and trots over to David with a laugh. “Come on David…Just one Auk, for the team!” He grins and prepares to mount his broom when signaled to.”

Bailey Williams follows David, no trace of fear or excitement on his face whatsoever. He tries to concentrate on the match, remembering the moves drilled in him after those numerous practices. He holds his broom in his right hand, waiting for the order to mount it and dart into the sky.

Riley Markham cant’t help but feel somewhat nervous as he makes his way on to the pitch, broom slung across his shoulders like a clothes rod, as if he were carrying pales of water. A feigned attempt at looking cassual, almost as if he hoped he might somehow fool himself. His aim had gotten better in practice, but there was still a lot of work to be done. And here of all places, with his Gran wave down at him from the faculty stands, he could almost feel his heart beating somewhere in the vacinity of his throat. Purposely not turning his gaze up to respond to her, pretending interest in the color of the grass.

Keelan Walsh spends the hand shaking time undoing the latches on the trunk. Almost as if sentient and able to understand what was going on, the Bludgers begin to shake the box from the first releasing ‘click’. However, when it’s opened, they just struggle against their bonds. Keelan pushes a button which reveals the Snitch. Taking it gingerly from it’s holder, the Professor turned Referee allows the tiny golden ball to unfurl it’s wings and bat them a few times before letting it zoom away. Now, the Quaffle is collected, and Keelan turns back to the teams. “Everyone ready?” She doesn’t let it go yet, “Let’s play a fair game, I don’t feel like giving a lot of penalty shots today.” This is said seriously, and she raises the whistle to her lips with her free hands. Giving the Quaffle a toss rather impressively high, she blows the whistle, signaling the beginning of the match.

Mounting his broom, Gabriel resolves to shake of his nervous feeling as he prepares to kick off the ground, trying to have faith in his game skills. He and Briony had practiced a lot, and he needed it to pay off. At Keelan’s whistle, Gabriel jumps a bit before lifting off in the direction of the Quaffle.

Eh, what the heck? She’s not going to be here much longer so who cares? She over beside Clavicle and Dave, waving her fists in the air towards their audience, “AUK! AUK!” She screams, giggling. Van claps, turning and grinning to her teammates before swooping over to her position.

Switching from anxiety to alertness in a split-second Andy Carver mounts his broom as the referee grabs the whistle and pushes off the ground with all his force, even losing the balance a bit and nervously adjusting his seat again. He heads for the quaffle. Maybe he would be able to grab it before Gabriel. Every second counts now.

In one move, Landon jumps onto his broom and pulls his bat from under his arm, ready for use. Then, with a quick move of his leg, Landon shoots straight up into the air, and slightly off to the side so that the Chasers can have control of the field and he won’t be in the way. Now, to wait until the bludger are released so he can make sure they don’t hit anyone on his team.

As soon as she hears the whistle, Noémie is on her broom and she flies high above the pitch, above the hoops. The Ravenclaw sees the golden snitch released and watches as it quickly is gone from her sight. Well, it’s still early in the game, and Noémie is not concerned about missing it this time. She stays perched on her broom, staying very high above the action of the game, hoping to quickly spot the snitch, rather than have the game go on for days.

“Don’t clobber the ball, control your swings, follow through with the connection,” Riley murmurs, over and over again under his breath as the call to mount brooms is given. Athletism and mindless bravado his specialty, Riley hardly thinks at all as he pulls down on the handle of his broom from his shoulder, flipping it in to place. Mounting it and kicking off from the ground in one smooth motion. Impressive for a second year, even though he nearly dropped the broom and fell off the other side of the broom. Recklessness to match his brash flying style. Soaring up high, he flips his bat in to his scarred hand with a flick of his wrist. Still pointedly avoiding looking the faculty stands as he glances around the pitch at his teammates and enemies, looking for a leather-wrapped cannon ball.

Marie-Anna Greyton is back in the appropriate position for her to start on the ground from, bat under one arm as she mounts her broom. It’s not long after that she launches into the air, her bat in hand. She’s a little to the side, much like Landon is.

David mounts his broom and, with a firm kick on the ground, takes off in the air, taking his position. Once floating in the air, waiting for the whistle to be blowed, he looks at this teammates, grinning at them. “Give’em hell, Riley!” he shouts, and mutters under his breath: “and don’t send the Bludgers to me, please.” David was impressed by Riley’s skills on the broom, and never forgot that it was thanks to him, inderectly, that he got on the team. However, Riley’s aim was sometimes very random and downright dangerous…

“Remember, Riley! AIM!” Tegan calls as she, too, gets onto her broom and kicks off the ground, quickly ascending with her bat gripped tightly in her hand. She may not have as much power as her fellow beater does, but at least she can aim. Tegan‘s smirk is gone from her face now that the game is in session, and she gives a passing bludger a hard WHACK!, aiming it generally in the direction of the Gryffindor seeker, in hopes of quickly giving Ravenclaw an advantage.

Josh MacLean takes a deep breath as he mounts his broom, flying at a steep angle upward before levelling out to head towards the opposite end of the field, but not too far from the Quaffle, trying to keep himself open for passing and mostly paying attention to the other Chasers.

As the whistle is blown Tybalt makes a big show of turning on his `Seeking Sense’ – as he calls it – as he hops onto his broom and soars as high up as he can be while still visible to the female members of the audience. He flips his hair out of his eyes and scans the skies for that elusive, golden ball. He needs to catch it and he looks like he won’t quit until he has it.

Keelan Walsh gives the teams a moment of playing before stepping back from the box and undoing the bludger restraints with a charm. Mostly because she can and partially because the stupid balls are dangerous. Having unleashed them on people ranging from 12 to 17 (or possibly 18) who are typically assumed to be at least partially under her care, the Herbology Professor mounts her own broom, but does not rise as high as the players, as of yet.

Clavicle Gravely mounts the”Auk Auk!” he hops on his broom and the sandsweeper and zooms up. He heads for the quaffle as well, trying to use the foreign brooms speed to go for the falling quaffle. He pours on the speed to try to cut through the crowd. For now he trusts Riley to keep the bludgers off.

Briony Wexler flies up towards the hoops, looking rather unsteady as she does so. Chances are high that the second-year will lose her breakfast before the match is over. “Whoo, Gryffindor!” she calls as she takes her place in front of the three high hoops. Is it possible that they’re higher up? Briony doesn’t know. The girl tries to watch as there are now twice as many people on the pitch as she is used to, more things flying around to keep her eyes on. Just watch for the red one, Bri, that’s the ticket. Keep your eyes on the prize. Echoes of Gabriel’s recent pep talks fly through her mind.

Still concentrating on the match, Bailey follows his fellow Chasers and takes his position, on the right wing of the field. He keeps his eyes fixed on the box where the Quaffle was stored, waiting for it to be released. Bailey doesn’t partake much in the cheering, and totally ignores the comments that the other players of his team were exchanging between them as a way to release the tension. His flying is the only thing which matters to him now. As the Quaffle is released, he pushes his broom forward and flies directly towards it.

Worry rapidly becomes frustration as Riley flashes a slightly uncomfortable look toward David, then an annoyed one toward Tegan. “Yeah, alright, already!” Gritting his teeth a bit, Riley bucks his broom, spotting the second down low. Twisting in to a barrel-roll dive that is perhaps even more reckless and showy than normal (as if to show that he did have SOME talent), thesound of Riley‘s own bat connects with the ball almost in tandem with Tegan’s own CRACK. Pivotting his broom in a smooth turn, he does as instructed, and the bludger whistles off fast in the general direction of Briony. The first person he’d seen after coming out of the one-eighty turn. “Ha!”

Being totally surprised Andy finds himself having plucked the quaffle out of the air just in time. He hectically turns his head into all directions, sees Josh first and tries to pass the red ball to him. Giving the toss way too much of speed.

“What? I’m on your team!” Tegan calls, scoffing a bit. Really, now, one would think he’d be grateful for the advice she was offering. No matter, Tegan watches as Riley shows off a bit. “Oh, gimme a break, Riley!” she calls, rolling her eyes again at her teammate. She is forced to duck, however, as his bludger comes directly at her head. “Aim at THEM! Not ME!” Tegan does not seem very pleased, does she?

Marie-Anna Greyton grins as she watches the release of the bludgers. “Let the games begin,” she states with a bit of a cackle before swings her arm a bit, warming it up a little for those encounters she’s certain to have with those nasty bludger. As she see’s the bludger go flying towards Briony, Marie offers a shout. “Bri! Heads up!” is given, as she herself races towards the keeper intent on getting between the bludger and the Gryffindor keeper.

As Noémie sees Tybalt showing off for the girlies in the stands, she rolls her eyes. Go right ahead and do that, she decides as she flies in a figure eight over the pitch, watching around carefully. Noémie is alert, determined not to watch the action in the game, rather, to look for that bit of precious gold that will name her team winner.

David briefly turns his head towards RIley and Tegan, hearing tiny bits of their argument carried to him by the wind. He quickly turns his head back to the Quaffle, which Andy has just thrown to Josh. David decides to try and steal it from the Gryffindor player, and flies in his general direction.

Watching the players, Landon flies the length of the field as he waits for one of his players to be in danger. He’s the defensive beater, at the moment, and he doesn’t feel like chasing down a bludger so he can whack it at another player, just yet. Of course, once he has a bludger he will whack it at a player on the opposite team.

The Ravenclaw keeper wets her lips, adamantly watching the game as it continues on, leaning here and there as Van does her best to predict when she’d best actually do her part.

“Josh!” Gabriel yells upon seeing Andy’s pass to the boy. “I’m open!” he adds, shooting forward towards the Ravenclaw goals, hoping to get into a better position to be passed to. Gabe is unaware of whether or not Josh actually caught the Quaffle, or if it was intercepted.

Clavicle Gravely turns to try to intercept the quaffle as it was speedily tossed. He doesn’t have time toi catch it. So instead he tries a quick 180 to try to tail bat it toward David.

Watching David going for the Quaffle, Bailey decides to play a preventive game and manoeuvers such as to place himself between Gabriel and Josh, should David fail to catch the Quaffle and the Gryffindor try to shoot the Quaffle at Gabriel. Besides, covering the Keeper is never a bad idea.

Briony shrieks a bit and flies downward as she sees the ominous black orb flying towards her at a rather fast pace. No, Briony would rather abandon her goals than get hit straight-on by a bludger. She is now about halfway down the tall hoops, rather out of the way of where she ought to be in order to block shots, but — but the bludger! Briony is not going to head back up until the object has been deflected.

Luckily for him, Josh is better at catching and throwing than he is at flying, and was paying attention, so although the quaffle is flying really fast, he sticks out an arm in time and with a sound thwack, it connects with his arm and is held close to him, his arm curled around it, as he zooms further towards the Ravenclaw goals when he notices David and Gabriel almost simultaneously. With a nervous glance from one to the other, he clamps his teeth down on his bottom lip and circles a little to the left to see if he can’t get a clearer shot to Gabriel, and attempts to chuck the ball with enough speed to get it safely to his teammate.

Marie-Anna Greyton takes a quick whack at the bludger, the noise resounding as bat meets ball, and deflects it away from Briony, who gets a crooked grin. The bludger, meanwhile, was deflected in the opposite direction from which it was going, perhaps far and fast enough to get to Van.

Tegan is in the middle of the pitch and seeing Marie-Anna alter the bludger’s trajectory, she flies as quickly as her broom will take her to stop in front of Van. It is a mere moment before the bludger has connected with her bat again, and it spirals towards the clump of both team’s chasers who seem to be still jockeying for posession of the quaffle. “Riley! Get the other bludger!” she calls, watching as one flies his direction.

As Andy speculates that his pass has not been caught by Josh, he lets his broom fall back a bit out of the action and pushes it up afterwards to get a better view on the events on the field, not flying out of his fellow chasers passing range. And then he sees the quaffle swooshing through the air again as Josh passed it. Andy shoots forward on his way to place himself in front of the Ravenclaw hoops.

Eek. There’s a bludger flying right towards him. Stupid things have minds of their own. He winds up and whacks it across the stadium and away from himself. And, now it looks to be heading straight for Van! Good aim, Landon! Good thing he practiced with targets at the last practice!

Marie-Anna Greyton flies off towards the bludger that’s flying towards the clump of chasers. “Landon, stop Riley, get that bludger!” is shouted by the elder beater, though her call is unnecessary as, evidently, Landon’s already on it. Of course, now the Gryffindor eyes the bludger, trying to assess if one of her own chasers will get hit, or if it’ll hit a Ravenclaw chaser. Then again, it may not hit anyone. Either way, she doesn’t seem intent on stopping the bludger if it’s going to get a Ravenclaw.

Riley Markham seems fairly pleased with himself there for a moment, as he as the bludhger sails past Tegan toward it’s original target. A faint smirk touching his lips. “Past you! Jus’ followin’ your advice, eh? Aimin’!” It wasn’t his fault Tegan’d got in the way, and though he usually got on with him at least amiably, the nervousness he felt being on the pitch for the first time and the aggrivation of being told the same thing day-in, day-out during daily practices with both the varsity and junior squads — it had ground down on his patience. Add to that the undue expectations he felt with his Gran watching.. His nerves were fairly shot, she he had reverted to his more base self-defense mechanism. Show-boating and gloating. Gloating soon to become brooding. “Hah!” He shouts again, before blinking. Having, briefly, taken his mind out of the game to admire his own handywork. Turning, he manages to get his bat up just in time to deflect the bludger half-away (in the direction of Tegan herself, which is doubtful to improve her mood or disposition toward the boy). The impact catches Riley off balance, though, knocking him in almost exaggerated slowness off the edge of his broom after flailing hims arms in circles not unlike a duck. He does, however, manage to save himself, reaching up to grab the handle of his broom, leaving him dangling there for a moment with a slightly dumbfounded expression.

“Catch it, Bailey!” shouts David, as Josh throws the ball towards the Ravenclaw balls. David is too far away to attempt a catch, and besides, it would be better for him to be slightly nearer of the middle of the pitch so that if Bailey catches the ball, he could pass it to David afterwards.

Looking backwards to check for a pass in his direction, Gabriel‘s gaze first falls onto Briony– what was she doing!? “Gah!” is Gabriel‘s outburst, but he then notices Josh’s strong pass to him and turns his broom around, extending one hand towards the ball.

Tegan hasn’t moved since Marie-Anna’s bludger shot came straight for her team’s keeper. Rearing her arm back, the beater chucks the bludger towards the group of chasers once again, hoping that it’ll come into contact with someone from the other team rather than her own. Of course, as they’re all in such close proximity, it makes it difficult for her to judge where it will go or who it will hit.

Clavicle Gravely turns seeing Riley having trouble. He flies fast and herd under the boy ready to pull a catch if he needs catching. “Riley! Are you alright?” he calls out, then sees the boy catch himself and he gives him a thumbles up. “Auk Auk!” He turns and zips back after the quaffle.

Keelan Walsh is being a nicely unbiased ref(really!) and just sort of slowly circling the pitch at a level where she can see what is going on without getting involved unless she needs to be. For a worried moment she hovers, watching Riley. Under her breath a muttered, “Ruddy Ravenclaw, don’t get yourself killed.” She resumes her slow circling, patiently waiting.

Having noticed the ball being thrown at Gabriel probably second before he did, Bailey pushes his broom towards the Quaffle and intercepts it deftly. He then dives a little, attempting to get some speed so as to distance Josh and get to the middle of the pitch, hoping that he would be able to send the Quaffle to another chaser then.

Now that she is out of peril, Briony flies back up to hover about three feet in front of the hoops. As the other team gains control of the ball, her arms go up in a defensive position, one that she has been taught through copious practicing. The girl still looks a bit green in the face, but is noticably shaking less as she watches the action. Her exhileration is beginning to overcome her nervousness.

Marie-Anna Greyton hovers close enough to get in the way of a bludger if it appears to be out to hit a Gryffindor, but she makes no move to try to stop them if they’re out to hit a RAvenclaw.

“N-noooo!” Gabriel cries as the Quaffle is intercepted and whisked away from him. “Oh no you don’t!” he yells, shooting after Bailey, hoping to catch up with him and regain possession of the Quaffle for Gryffindor.

His cheeks turning crimson, Riley pulls himself back on to his broom with no small effort — immediately glad that he’d done so well with chin-ups in muggle grade school. “Yeah, yeah, dandy, Clavy,” he calls out, once he’s he’s secured himself back on to his broom, and pulled his back back in to his hands. The confidence and bravado of his anger suddenly gone, he pushes forward.. Allowing himself enough time to flash a half-dark, half-embaressed sort of look at Professor Walsh, Riley returns himself to the game. His movements nowhere near as quick or sure, but much more controlled.

“Ugh, Riley!” Tegan shouts as she gets knicked in the hand by the bludger before she manages to whack it towards Gabriel. She grabs onto the hand that got hit by the black sphere and frowns hard at her teammate. “Haven’t you been listening at all?” she snaps at him irritably, clutching her hand for the pain in it. Deciding that she would get it looked at later, the beater, rears her bat back up, waiting to see where the bludgers end up next.

Curse it! They were beaten away! Landon makes a dive and manages to hit the bludger hit by Tegan. He aimed it straight towards Noémie and it sails quickly through the air, displaying the force it was hit with. Landon supposes he probably should have waited until someone on his team was in immediate danger, but that could take too long. It was much more likely to hit a Ravenclaw if it was aimed at one.

Clavicle Gravely is lagging behind the quaffle chase, So he’s actually in good position as he never got so far down the pitch to chase the quaffle, going after Riley. He zips towards the Gryffindor hoops. “I’m open!”

Van Douglass is more nervous about Gabe and Josh then anyone else, throwing up an arm to attempt and block the approaching bludger rather then abandon her post just as her teammate moves in front of her. Not noticing the other one coming from Landon, the girl pushes out from behind Tegan to once again have a view of the field. When she does notice it, she swoops back behind Tegan until the girl beats it away, at which time she comes back out. Nope. She wasn’t as cowardly as the other keeper at all.

Josh MacLean yells, “No!” at the interception, and zooms closer towards Gabriel, trying to stay in an easy throwing distance to his fellow chaser, but not actively going back for the quaffle himself, until Clavicle shouts out from near the Gryffindor hoops and Josh lowers himself to his broom to get more speed as he flies towards the path the ball will probably take if thrown to Clavicle.

“Argh!” Andy ‘articulates’ under his breath as the pass is intercepted. He whirls round to try to get the quaffle back as he hears – and a split second later sees – a bludger fizzing behind him. Maybe he could redirect it to a Ravenclaw. Andy races down towards David and crosses his way, touching the tip of the Ravenclaw’s broom slightly. He looks back to see if it was a successful attempt, still rushing across the field.

Riley Markham shifts his gaze toward Landon, then the bludger than he struck. Tegan’s shout ringing in his ears, frustration and embaressment gripping him at nearly equal measure. Darting upward, he moves in a quick attemp to put himself between the bludger and Noémie, to perhaps reclaim some of his honor. Bat ready to knock the cannonball back at Landon with as much force as it was struck. Calm the bloody hell down, Riley.. you can do this..

Noémie is not ignoring the action of the game so much as to miss that there is a bludger flying in her direction. She quickly flies away from where the bludger is, but had not spotted it fast enough to avoid it altogether. The bludger knicks the front of her broom, tacking a good six inches off of the tip of it. “You’ll pay for that!” She hollers as she rocks back and forth unsteadily on her broom. The usually graceful Noémie looks decidedly displeased as she manages to move herself out of the bludger’s return trajectory.

“Argh!” yells David, nearly hit by the second-year Gryffindor. “That’s a foul!” he yells, and as a result looses sight of the Quaffle for a split second. Upset by the near miss, he only realizes a couple of seconds later that the Quaffle is still in Bailey’s hands… but for how long? He flies towards the Gryffindor goals, trying to catch up with the other Gryffindors who were beginning to build a defensive wall.

A day late and a galleon short, as they say. Riley‘s attempt to intercept hadn’t been quick enough, and the bludger is missed by centimeters off the end of his bat. This was going quite splendidly for him, wasn’t it. As the end of Noémie’s broom is clipped, Riley winces violently, flashing her an appologetic “I did the best I could” sort of look, before swinging back for the bludger’s return path. The same mantra he’d been repeating when the took off play in his head, he flashes Landon a somewhat harsh look before lifting his bat and swinging again. The crack errupting from his bat colliding with the ball something like thunder. Maybe the destruction of part of his Captain’s broom helped bring focus, but his aim is true, sailing quick and fast at Landon. He can do it.

Keelan Walsh is alert and not wondering if she will have to start muttering about Astra needing potions ingredients, honestly. Almost missing the collision, it isn’t until David yells foul that she realizes he’s right. Her faces falls a little as she blows her whistle and announces, “Foul! Penalty shot to Ravenclaw!” A small frown, and she waits for the attempt to be made. Sigh.

Oh no, a penalty shot! Briony has not had much practice at all with this, and her eyes are wide as Keelan announces this. The girl grips her broom rather more tightly than she needs to, her knuckles turning white. Okay, Briony, time to show your skill, your merit. Aw, hell, just try to block the shot. She tries to think encouraging shots, though she has a hard time of it, knowing that two of the keepers on Ravenclaw aren’t first years at quidditch as she is.

Clavicle Gravely turns and wanders over to the side he’s supposed to stay on while a penalty shot is being finalized. he hovers a bit and grins “AUK AUK!!!!”

What? A foul? That would simplify things for David. The Ravenclaw chaser, still holding the Quaffle, now has a free way towards the penalty line. Once he reaches the line, hovering for a while to decide to which hoop he’ll throw the ball, he finally turns his broom to the right, feinting a shoot to the right hoop, but in reality throwing it to the left hoop.

Yes, the second year has seen shots like this before, but in her nervous distraction, she mistakenly begins to dive to her right, where David has first begun to shoot before realizing that the red orb is heading the other direction. Quickly pulling on the end of her broom to attempt the block for the other hoop, she nearly falls off of the flying mechanism just as the quaffle flies through the hoop with a loud CLANG! Briony‘s face falls and reddens as she rights herself on the broom and centers herself again. No, this was not a good start.

Keelan Walsh watches Briony miss with a wince, and the announcer gives a booming “Point to Ravenclaw!” but she flies in to collect the Quaffle and resume play. With another blow of the whistle, she does just that, and quickly removes herself from the thick of things while she’s at it. A sympathic glance to the Gryffindor Keeper is all she spares.

A loud groan escapes Riley as the foul is called, of course momentarily pausing the bludgers, including the one he’d clobbered at Landon. The one good hit he’d had, the one that was bound to actually have a positive effect. The air seems to slip from him and his shoulders slump. And he makes the horrendous mistake of looking back toward the faculty stands, as David shoots. Catching the surpremely dissapointed gaze of his grandmother from the corner of his eye. Yeah, that about did it. At the moment, there was nothing more he wanted than to land, find some great rock and crawl under it to die. The fight gone from him almost totally.

Clavicle says, “AUK AUK!!!” the chaser yells as he does a 720 on the broom. He then watches to see who will take possession of the quaffle.”

Giving a cheer as Bailey makes the score, Tegan starts flying a bit as the play resumes again as normal. Well, it was something, and it put them ahead, even if it was Gryffindor’s own fault that Ravenclaw even had the penalty shot. Spying a bludger heading down towards her end of the pitch, Tegan flies quickly towards the black object and gives it a hearty WHACK! She sends it towards the captain of Gryffindor team, trying a different tack rather than attacking the chasers or keeper.

Josh MacLean curses under his breath as the penalty is called, and scowls and repeats himself as Briony misses the shot, but once the whistle blows, he is all business once again, or even moreso now that they’re down a point and Josh is a bit angry. Ascending and zooming towards the quaffle, he grabs it, slowing down to glance around and try to spot one of the other chasers.

“It’s okay, Bri!” Gabriel shouts from across the field, though he doubts she could possibly hear him across that distance and amid all the noise. Looking the other way to Josh, Gabe sees his teammate in possession of the quaffle and flies up towards the Ravenclaw goals again. “Josh!” he calls again as he passes by.

Marie-Anna Greyton cringes slightly as she makes note of the score, a shake of her head is given before she spots the incoming bludger and aims to take a whack at it. Unfortunatetly for Marie, two things went wrong with this intent, the first one being, she was too close to the bludger to hit it properly, therefore resulting in it hitting her shoulder. The second thing, the black orb was hit too hard and was going too fast for Marie to maintain her balance, so not only did it hit her shoulder, and, quite possibly, break it, it also knocked her off her broom to the ground below. Upon landing the captain wrinkles her nose. “That’s gonna hurt in the morning,” is muttered as she stands to make her way off the pitch.

“Yeah! That’s for you Gryffindors!” cheers David, as Bailey manages to score a goal. When the Quaffle is put into play once again, David concentrates and turns his broom towards Gabriel. David had difficulties to steal a Quaffle from someone, but covering another player is easier. He hopes to catch the Quaffle as it is thrown towards him, or at least turn Gabriel into a tactically useless player for Gryffindor.

Sharp eyes spy the bludger heading straight for him. Yeegads! Luckily it pauses at the penalty shot is taken, but once play resumes it hurtles straight for him. Without missing a beat Landon lifts his bat and stops the bludger and reverses it’s flight. Of course, the force of the stop and hit combined chipped a hunk out of the top of his bat, but Landon doesn’t seem to be worried about it. He’s studying the bludger closely to make sure it takes out Noémie just as it has been aimed to do. He is forced to tear his eyes away, though, as Marie-Anna takes a hit. The Gryffindor boy is now the team’s only beater, and that could be a problem.

Well, Tegan‘s shot was successful, much to her own surprise, and the bludger in true form comes flying back in her direction. As it approaches she rears back and chucks it directly towards Josh, who seems to be the most agressive Gryffindor chaser at the moment. The girl rotates her shoulder a bit as she watches to see whether the bludger indeed goes where she indended for it to go or whether she ought to start flying to intercept it again.

Bailey is still lagging behind the zone of interest, due to the fact that he was the one who shot the penalty and thus has to cover the distance between him and the middle of the pitch where the Quaffle is. He pushes his broom forward, trying to get some speed, and hoping that nobody would have the bad idea to send a Bludger against him.

Clavicle Gravely pours on the sandsweepers speed to try to go help cover the hoops and try to snag the quaffle. He pours on too much speed and flies dangerously close to the hoops. It takes him a moment to recover and he looks for the quaffle.

Riley Markham had remained fairly near Noémie while the penalty shot had been made, so it doesn’t take much for him to place himself between it and the Ravenclaw seeker. He is, after all, quite quick. And he brings up his broom and deflects the bludger back with an annoyed expression. His hit is strong, even though he doesn’t place all his weight in to it. The aim is poor, however, flying wide of Landon by several feet, sailing instead toward the Gryffindor seeker.

Andy hangs his head as the penalty has been called and sweep aside as it is performed. Not watching the first Ravenclaw goal he feels like having a big chunk of stone in his stomache. But as the game action sets in again, Andy sees Josh carrying the quaffle and tries to fly ahead of him to be the preferred receiver. “Josh!” Andy calls.

Josh MacLean doesn’t notice the captain go down, being preoccupied with having the quaffle in hand. He chews on his bottom lip, Gabriel is covered, where the heck is Andy? His searching is interrupted, though, by the glimpse of something black, metal, and moving very fast in his peripheral vision, too fast… Josh turns slightly, unable to get out of the path of the bludger, and is hit in the stomach, at which point he drops the ball, doubling over in pain and wobbling precariously on his broom as he floats towards the ground.

Tybalt Holmes flips his hair back and winks at his girls as he soars around the stadium for all to see. So, of course he doesn’t see the bludger that is heading straight for him! It connects with his shoulder and sends him spinning around in circles so fast that he is nothing more than a red and gold blur for a few seconds. Several groups of girls sprinkled throughout the audience scream in horror as their pretty boy is shot down. He floats down towards the ground for a bit before he regains his head a bit. “YEEGADS, LANDON!” He shouts across the pitch and he grabs his shoulder with one hand and rests his forehead against the handle of his broom. But, after a few moments he lifts his head and throws both of his arms up into the air (One of the making a sickening POP as it is raised) and he shouts, “But I’m OK!” and his girls shriek and clap excitedly. Now, he needs to go back to finding the snitch. That bludger is now flying off towards Clavicle and it doesn’t appear as though it’ll bother him twice in a row.

“Good one, Riley!” Noémie calls encouragingly to the beater with a wave. She has managed to pick off the sharpest bits off of the end of her now-shorter broom, and appears to be paying a bit closer attention to the game, knowing that she has not got the same flying advantage as usual. Momentarily, Noémie thinks she spots a glint of gold near to the ground and begins flying downwards, around the center of the pitch so as to avoid her teammates who are attempting to get the quaffle and make shots. She manages to get the feel for the less-than-whole broom as she comes down, but her lack of control at the start had her taking too long to get to the ground and the snitch is now gone again. Grumbling quietly, the fifth-year makes her way back up above the commotion to see if she can’t spot the snitch again.

“Aaah!” shouts Gabriel as he sees Josh hit, bringing both hands to his head, each grasping his hair. Without hesitating anymore, Gabe grips his broomstick and heads downwards, trying to catch the Quaffle before it falls down completely. Gabe comes up with it, hurling it at Andy. “Go!” he shouts after the haphazard throw.

ACK! Landon‘s losing it! He was speeding off towards Tybalt in hopes of grabbing that bludger and he completely forgot about the one headed for Josh. “Sorry!” Of course, it doesn’t sound sincere, or anything. Landon‘s not capable of that. He flies off after the bludger and smacks it with one sharp movement. It hurtles off, after Riley. Take that!

Wow. That’s got to hurt! David watches Josh falling down, but remembering the advice given him during the practices, he turns his eyes back again on the Quaffle. That Gryffindor player who nearly downed him a few minutes ago now has it. David turns his broom in his direction and pushes it into full speed. Ravenclaw has scored a penalty, but David is still decided to show Andy personally what he thought of his flying skills.

Riley Markham arches a brow.. watching the bludger collide with Tybalt with a hint of surprise and growing satisfaction. It didn’t quite ease the void that had grown in the pit of his stomach, but it did make him feel sizably better about things. “Thanks,” he calls back to Noémie, though the cockiness is gone from his tone. You can do this, just stay calm. As Noémie goes in to dive, and knowing that her broom is damaged — Riley makes a last second choice. Considering he just winged the Gryffindor seeker, if Noémie has seen the snitch, she’d become a target. Turnning his broom, he plays point, matching her descent, keeping himself between she and the Gryffindor keeper. As Landon smashes one at him, he lifts his bat to simply bunt the bludger away, pushing it almost gently in the direction of Tegan.. “Madison, heads up, ammo coming!” He shouts. He could salvage this.. he could pull himself out of the grave, or at least out from under the rock.

Keelan Walsh watches the game with a masked but growing concern. The Gryffindor team really seems to be getting smashed up, but so far it hasn’t been in the appeaance of a foul. She is, however, watching the Ravenclaws like a hungry predator, just waiting for one of them to do something that is actually against the rules.

Bargaining for Gabriel saving the quaffle from fumbling again Andy positions himself away from the other Ravenclaw chasers and the bludgers trajectories. As Josh is floating down he notices his captain lying on the floor, either. “Fair enough.” he mutters and sees the flying quaffle from the corner of his eye. And it’s flying perfectly. Andy boosts up his speed at snatches the quaffle out of the air, not thinking about his actions, just letting it flow. Like a falcon bringing its prey to the nest… Andy shakes his head slightly to redeem this flow of his consciousness, though it got him in a quite more cheerful mood. He races towards the opponent’s hoops and clinges to his broomstick, the quaffle under his arm.

Clavicle Gravely wasn’t paying attention to the bludger, but sees it at the last moment! He blinks and takes off, but he’s too close for the bludger to target someone else. “HEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPP!” he cries as he takes off….the bludger mere inches from him. It’s not a rogue bludger, just too close to find a new target. “RIIIIIILLLLEEEYYYYY!!!!!”

His head swimming, Josh reaches the ground near the edge of the pitch, where he staggers off of his broom and promptly vomits on the ground in front of him. His expression pained, he remounts his broom, wincing but determined to stay in the game, and rises slowly back towards where the action is, his eyes wary, watching for bludgers.

Bailey finally comes to the Ravenclaw end of the pitch, and flies towards the hoops, attempting to prevent Andy from having a clear view of the goals. He is essentially acting as a secondary goalie, flying in front of, and a little below, the Ravenclaw keeper.

Having had to entertain herself for the last few minutes, dear Van takes a few moments to realize that Andy is approaching. Hurriedly, she tries to finish up adjusting her pony-tail to prepare to actually do something. She grips her broomstick with one hand, keeping the other open and braced for blocking. Which hoop? Whiiich hoop?

David flies behind Andy, reducing the distance separating him from the Gryffindor, and soon flies to his side. Were they not wearing robes of different colors, one would nearly think they were two players of the same team flying in a perfect formation. David then releases the grip of the broom with his left hand, and extends his arm to try and punch the Quaffle out of Andy’s grasp.

Josh MacLean gains speed, his expression still uncomfortable and his face greyish as he flies over to the Ravenclaw side, about as far from the hoops as Andy but on the opposite side, raising up an arm and calling over “Andy! Right here!” in a somewhat hoarse voice.

Seeing the bludger coming her way, Tegan rears her batting arm back and then brings it forward, hearing the bat connect with the bludger with a mighty WHACK. She watches as she aims the ball directly for Andy, hoping to slow him down to a degree by whacking either him or his broom with the sphere.

Landon spies the bludger right off, and speeds towards it. He’s hot in its trail and ready to beat it away from Andy as soon as he catches up. It’ll take some speed, though. He presses his chest flat against his broom until he can bring himself between the bludger and his teammate. *WHACK* And it soars off in David’s direction.

Riley Markham glances back with Clavicle’s shriek and exhales a rather loud groan. “NECKFRICHZT!” (A gobledegook word whose definition is best left undisclosed) He growls, wheeling about on his broom without thought and kicking up. Laying close to his broom, acting on instinct, he blazes daringly close to Clavicle. Close enough that his robes might brush the fellow second year’s face. And without pondering it, he gives the bludger a might stroke, sending it again, unintentionally, at the Gryffindor seeker.

Spotting the snitch again, this time, near the Hufflepuff bleachers, Noémie starts flying quickly in that direction as fast as her broom will take her. (She’s definitely going to have to replace the broom now, thanks to the Gryffindor beaters.) The fifth year speeds her way across the pitch, eyes focussed only on the little golden ball across the way as she keeps her right hand out in front of her, leaning close down to her broom to increase her speed.

The whole scene seems to center around Andy. Everything seems to slow down and last for minutes instead of seconds. David approaching from the right, Josh waving to his left and the bludger rushing towards him. “It’s hopeless.” Andy thinks. But just at this moment Landon knocks away the bludger and everything seems to be colored brighter than before and seconds become seconds again. He notices David’s hand shooting towards the quaffle and reacts by doing a braking sharply and slinging the red ball into restored Josh’s direction.

Clavicle Gravely grins thankfully “Good one markham.” he flips around and a sparrow bounces off his head. “Oww!” he grins and zips back towards the holder of the quaffle. “Great save Markham!”

WHAM! Again, poor Tybalt Holmes is smacked by a bludger square in the chest. Or, is it the same bludger. Really, he’s not keeping track. He’s winded as he spins around in a red and gold blur. Once he stops, he spies Noémie speeding towards the snitch! He’s got to get it. He tilts his broom in the correct direction and shoots off like a bullet. But despite his determination he’s going down, down, down, down. . .down. He collides with the ground so sharply that his broom is stick at a forty-five degree, angle, and Tybalt does a summersault as he rolls off and faceplants in the dirt. He’s gone black. The Gryffindor seeker is down and out. Tybalt‘s fan girls shriek in horror and all run towards the front of the stands. The reach out, leaning over the railing as though it the just reach far enough they can save him. They’re in hysterics now. Someone is going to pay later. Poor Tybalt.

Josh MacLean‘s eyes widen in alarm as he sees the bludger near Andy, shouting out, “Lookout!” on reflex, but apparently that wasn’t needed, and Josh breathes a sigh of relief in the second between the bludger getting hit away and Andy lobbing the ball at him. He catches it well, and without missing a beat, throws it at the left hoop.

Riley Markham frowns slightly, wheeling about to float momentarily beside Clavicle, watching the bludger blaze in the direction of the Gryffindor Tybalt — and looking somewhat satisfied as it connects with Tybalt’s chest. “Not really, eh? I was aiming fer that prat,” he mutters, motioning with his bat toward Andy, before turning on his broom and moving to place himself physically between Noémie and the Gryffindor seeker. Hopefully causing him to vere off. With Noémie’s broken broom, any number of seconds he could shave off of Tybalt’s flight might help Ravenclaw’s captain the win. And if nothing else, Riley had proved he could fly fast enough to at least put himself in the way of things. He might not be able to hit them, but he could get in the way.

Mere seconds pass between Tybalt’s unfortunate connection with the ground and Noémie‘s connection with the snitch. Her hand closes around the golden object and she lets out an exhuberant ‘Whoop!’ as she flies around the Hufflepuff bleachers, holding the small golden ball up in her right hand triumphantly. Ravenclaw has won the game! Noémie flies down to the pitch, Her broken broom in one hand and the snitch in the other, holding both up in the air. Yes, this was a good start for Ravenclaw’s Quidditch season.

Briony‘s face falls as she sees that the Ravenclaw seeker has managed to get hold of the snitch. Gryffindor has lost their first match of the season. The second year cannot help but feel slightly responsible for the game’s result and flies down to the pitch rather slowly, getting off her broom and wiping her eyes rather dejectedly. So much for lucky robes. She will not cry, she will not cry… except she already is. Rather than wait for the rest of her team, Briony retreats back into the school, intent on hiding out in the lockers for a while until she feels a bit better.

Clavicle Gravely sees her catch it and he hollers “AUK AUK!!!!” and does a circle around Noémie.

Van Douglass rears on her broomstick, using her own weight to swat at the quaffle with her broom’s end. She too doesn’t miss a beat… in hitting it right back in Josh’s direction. Her expression slowly melts away to one of complete horror, that is, until it is taken over by her smile after Noémie catches the snitch. She moves away from the hoops, motioning for Josh to take his best shot if he likes. What with it not mattering.

As Andy has just been about to switch into a celebrating mood, because his action seems to develop into a goal, he just gets his next and last punch into his stomach, because he hears the resounding noise coming from the standings. Even the most of it from the Ravenclaw bleachers. Andy looks up and sees Noémie commemorating the victory. He shrugs, looking to Josh and Gabriel with a miserable face and heading for the ground.

Riley Markham pulls up as Tybalt collides with ground, smirking softly to himself, the soles of his shoes almost brushing the blades of grass. He shifts his gaze toward Noémie as the Ravenclaw crowd roars, and rather carelessly hops off his broom as it still moves, stumbling foward a few steps.

“Hurrah!” Tegan calls exhuberantly, waving her bat around cheerfully as she sees that the team seeker and captain has caught the snitch. She flies down and runs with her broom quickly towards Noémie, enveloping her in an excited hug, screaming rather loudly with excitement. “We win! We win! We win!” Laughter mixes with her screams as she happily clings to the captain.

Narrowly avoiding the Quaffle that locked on him instead of Andy, David lets out a cheer when he understands that the match has finished. Ravenclaw has won! “AUK AUK!” he yells, finally surrendering to the peer pressure set by Clavicle and the others.

“Ooof,” Noémie responds, being enveloped in Tegan’s arms. “Yes! Go Ravenclaw!” the usually reserved fifth year yells, waving around her fist with the snitch caught up in it still. She drops her broom to the ground. She’ll worry about that later, right now — they are the winners! “Good job, team!” Her elation is clear by the wide grin on her face.

Landon pants slightly as he rests his head against the stick of his broom. Sheesh, that game was tiring. This is why Quidditch has two beaters. He needs a nap now. But, of course, he has a terrible feeling that a hoard of angry Tybalt fans are going to want to tar and feather him. Hopefully, though, they’ll choose to fawn over him in the hospital wing, first.

Keelan Walsh gives a whistle to officially end the game, and collects the balls (either by summons or a player simply bringing them) back to their holding places until they’re needed next. “Excellent game,” she murmurs to any who go by, though her tone is considerably sulkier than one would expect from a mature grown woman.

Riley Markham is blissfully ignorant of Tybalt fans, luckily, as he makes his way over to the team, after collecting up his broom. His expression pleased, but somewhat subdued. He has resumed his practice of not looking back toward the faculty bleachers, and seems to be breathing fairly hard, even for the amount of excersize he just recieved.

Josh MacLean glares fiercely at Van, trying to resist the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her. Instead, he scowls unpleasantly, catching the quaffle and holding it far away from his injured abdomen as he descends to the ground and hands it to Professor Walsh. Walking over towards Andy, he groans. “Absolutely d-destroyed,” he comments. “And I think… I p-probably should head to the hospital wing.”

Van Douglass blushes as Josh glares at her, smirking a little as she floats gracefully to the ground to join her team in their celebration, cheering happilly.

Once he’s on the ground, Landon drags his feet over towards the spot where Tybalt is currently flopped and he pokes the boy a few times with the ends of his shoe. “Anyone care to help me cart him off to the Hospital wing, or something?”

“Nice shot, though.” Andy tries to encourage Josh and adds “I hope Nova will be back next time. I’ll come with you to the castle. I really need a shower now.” But as he passes Landon. “Ahm, sure, wait a second.” Andy fastens his belt and puts on of Tybalt’s arms around his neck.

Clavicle says, “Ravenclaw Ravenclaw AUK AUK AUK!!!!” he lands and joims the throng around Noémie”

Melvina Prichard walks out on to the pitch quietly, striding across the small grouping of damaged Gryffindor players, nodding the each in turn as she passes, “Well played,” she murmurs, congenially, to each. Keelan is similarly offered a small, polite nod. But her path across the field is fairly direct. And without wasting a word or movement, she finds Riley’s side and lays a hand down on his shoulder. Not so much lays, grips. Grips down on his shoulder, meaningfully, even though he gaze finds the Ravenclaw captain. “Well played, Miss Ribouet. Nothing less than I’d expect from a Bones descendant.”

Clavicle Gravely Blinks “Bones Descendant?” he steps forward. “Who’s a Bones descendant? The Bones are closely tied to the Gravely’s.. or were around the Goth invasion of Rome.”

Josh MacLean steps alongside Landon. “I’d help, but I, uh, wel, y-y-you two got it. I’ll walk with you, though, we’re all heading to the same place, anyways.” As the headmistress passes, he shrugs, and gives Andy a small smile. “If I’da been paying attention I wouldn’t have g-gotten hit in the stomach.” And he blanches. “Oh, no, I just puked in front of the entire school…”

“Thank you, Headm– what was that?” Noémie faulters over her speech halfway through, glancing to her headmistress and around at her celebrating teammates. Perhaps she had misheard. “What was that you said, Headmistress? I think I missed it.”

With a flip of his wand, Landon levitates the rest of Tybalt. “Come on, then.” He nods and motions his head towards the castle as he makes his way slowly across the field. “It’s fine, Josh. Come on, you’re going to the infirmary, too.” Of course, it is at this time a horde of fan girls decide to flood the field, and crowd around the trio carrying their fallen hero. They have their hoods up and sob on each other as they traipse across the field. Man, you’d think he died or something.

“I am, Mister Gravely,” Melvina replies, glancing to Clavicle with a slightly arched brow. “And Mister Markham, and Miss Robouet, more importantly.” Clavicle’s brush on geneology brings a faintly amused smirk to her lips. “Indeed, most all of the pureblood families are intermingled eventually. The Bones family is one of the oldest. Naturally, the Gravely and the Bones intermingled juncture, though as you said it was a great deal ago, on another branch of the family. Miss Ribouet’s relation is a but more, immediate, let us say.” Shifting her gaze toward Noémie, she grins, almost absently. “Second cousins, I believe. Once removed? I’d have to look at the tree again to be entirely sure. You and my Riley, I mean. Never the less, dear, well played. We must be off, an appointment to make, you see.”

“Oh no.” Andy moans as the horde of girls rushes towards and surrounds them. “Let’s get him there quickly.” he emphasizes and pushes the levitated Tybalt towards the castle. “Move!… Get out the way!” Andy keeps on repeating as the procession gets going.

Clavicle Gravely blinks at Pritchard. “You are a Bones? Wow! Er.. that means we’re related.. on a cousin aunt or uncle side.” he hmmms. “I could be your Uncle! Er…ma’am.”

“What, really?” Noémie‘s face is rather blank as she is informed of her family ties to, well, anyone, really. Noémie has known none of her family, save for Arnauld Ribouet and his parents, who are a part of her father’s family who were also ostracized. She is not able to react to Melvina any more than this however as the Headmistress makes her way off the pitch again, Riley in tow. Riley and Melvina were related? Noémie is shocked by this, and rather than celebrating with her team, now wanders into the school, seeming rather dazed and now distracted. She’s definitely going to have to think about this. And owl her parents. Yes, perhaps she would send owls. Truth be told, Noémie isn’t exactly sure where she’s wandering.

Melvina Prichard shakes her head toward Clavicle. “Perhaps, thirty or forty times removed. There are several branches of the Bones family. The one from which I hail has shied away from Gravely blood. The carnival nature, mind. I don’t think it suited their more.. refined, tastes.” She doesn’t waste anymore time, however, pushing Riley off. Not even allowing him a moment to react to the startling news.

Striding onto the pitch, Noémie looks quite annoyed by the weather. Her usually wavy hair has turned quite frizzy with the moisture, on top of having to practice in the rain. Then again, Noémie is no quitter, and she’s certainly not about to call of a practice on account of a bit of rain. However torrential it happens to be. The captain takes to her broom, flying around a bit as she waits for the rest of her team to show up.

Bailey comes trotting onto the pitch, a bit out of breath, as he was forced to run clear from the Astronomy tower down to the pitch in order to make practice on time. That was what he got for trying to ask for extra credit work! “Oi, Noémie!” he calls and hails to his captain. He does not get onto his broom, instead, begins stretching out and readying himself for the rigorous practice his captain likely has in store.

Tegan Madison stamps onto the pitch, crossing her arms as she makes her way out. “Couldn’t she be bothered to ever cancel a practice?” the fourth year comments and sets her broom down on the ground nearby, mimicing Bailey’s motions as he stretches in preparation for their practice in the pouring rain. “It shouldn’t be this rainy so early in the year.” Nevermind that it is already early November. Tegan doesn’t care; she’s just in a rotten mood.

Late again, Van doesn’t seem quite as annoyed at the rain as Tegan. Indeed, Van doesn’t seem to be noticing much of anything as she comes trotting onto the pitch. “Hullo, everyone,” she greets her teammates in a chipper voice. Subject to Tegan’s glares, Van doesn’t appear to notice that her teammates are indeed less enthused about the rain, the weather, and life in general as she is at this moment. Her mussed hair could be attributed to rain, but then, those on the team know better than to assume such a thing. After all, on the clearest days, she often shows up in that very state. Regardless, Van drops her broom rather hazardously and begins half-heartedly stretching as well. The girl is clearly distracted and not thinking about Quidditch at all.

Flying down to land, Noémie steps off her broom and sets it down on the ground, coming to stand just in front of her team. “Well, thanks for finally joining us, Van,” she says coldly. “It’d be nice if this weren’t a habit of yours.” Oh, it is clearly going to be one of those practices. Noémie crosses her arms and squares off in front of those in front of her. “Alright, this is how it’s going to be today. You might as well put your brooms away, because today, we’re playing ground quidditch.” As if the name she used wasn’t ominous enough, Noémie‘s tone is rather forboding as she looks from person to person. “So, what I want you to do for starters is run four laps around the lenght of the pitch. And I do mean run, not walk.” Noémie herself has already done these laps, which would be obvious if any of her teammates bothered to notice how thoroughly soaked she was, but the chances of that happening were slim.

“What?” Bailey asks quietly, then sighs and turns on heel to begin running his laps around the pitch. No, today’s practice was not going to be a good one. He is thoroughly out of breath by the time he finally manages to finish his four laps. The laps were no small feat, after all! He was used to flying, not running. He hunches over, his hands on his knees as he stops trotting where Noémie is still standing in the center of the pitch, waiting for the others to catch up.

Tegan is noticably annoyed as Noémie makes this announcement and frowns very hard as she takes up running behind Bailey. It isn’t long before Bailey has lapped her, either, because Tegan is nearly a head shorter than the chaser, and she is certainly not accustomed to having to run anywhere. She does her best however, slowing down from time to time, attempting to catch her wind, but keeps up a steady pace otherwise, coming to a stop several minutes after Bailey has made it there. The girl, too, hunches over in exhaustion. How was this supposed to improve her Quidditch game, exactly?

Rather than groan and scoff as her teammates have done, Van makes her way around the pitch silently, at a rather slow, but steady pace. She is noticably less winded than Tegan or Bailey have become from the run, though she is a bit out of breath. She, however, does not feel the need to hunch over in the way that they have, and stands in front of Noémie, her hands clasped behind her back, rather afraid to ask what their captain has in store for them next.

“Alright, good run,” Noémie practically barks as she looks at all of her red-faced teammates. “Now, what I want you to do is, here, Tegan, take this bat, and Van, Bailey, you go just over that way,” She directs them with her arm towards the middle of the pitch. Throwing a quaffle to each, she steps back and picks her broom up again. She gets onto her broom and hovers in the air a bit while everyone gets set up where they are directed to go. “Now, what you’re going to do — no, back up more — is throw these Quaffles towards Tegan, then I want Tegan to hit them back to the person who threw it. If it misses, you do a lap. If you throw too short or too far, you do a lap. I’ll be keeping track. This is to work on your aim, Tegan. We’re counting on you, since Riley’s aim is unsteady at best. He’s got the power, I want you to be the aim. Alright, get to it!” Noémie is high enough above them to see what’s going on, but low enough that she can still bark orders at them if need be.

Clavicle Gravely is on the broom practicing throws with the team chaser and the second teams’ chasers. He speeds a quick circle as he finishes the Laps (Probably with David) and he zips around and looks to Noémie. “What’s the game plan now Captain?”

Bailey Williams runs over to where Noémie has pointed for him to go, and oofs rather loudly as a Quaffle is thrown at him rather hard. What was going on with Noémie today? Was it the rain causing her mood? The fourth year squares off towards Tegan, who is holding the bat, and heaves his ball hard in her direction. His aim is not the greatest on the shot and he seems to throw it about two feet above her head. The boy hopes very hard, though, that she is able to hit it, because he really doesn’t want to do any more laps, as he is still rather out of breath from the four he’s already done.

Clavicle Gravely is on the foot practicing throws with the team chaser and the second teams’ chasers. He speeds a quick circle as he finishes the Laps (Probably with David) and he zips around and looks to Noémie. “What’s the game plan now Captain?” He calls out, He’s apparently rready to start flying.

Tegan doesn’t look pleased — in fact, when has she looked so since the beginning of practice — and she looks even less pleased as her first shot is far above her head. She jumps up and hastily whacks it with her bat, but it heads towards the ground, and while it does roll to Bailey, it does so most of the way on the ground. The beater frowns, knowing that this means she has at least one lap for herself.

“Good one, Bailey,” Van comments rather chipperly, earning a glare from her teammate. “What?” She asks as she throws her Quaffle as close to Tegan as she can manage. The Keeper is adept by now at making these types of shots, though this one is rather pitiful, as it hits the ground about ten feet before it gets to Tegan. “Oops,” she comments rather blandly, watching for Tegan to retrieve it. Ah, well, Van still appears to be a bit distracted.

“You’ll keep throwing those quaffles until I say you’re done,” Noémie responds, her arms crossed as she hovers above all of them on her broom. “That’s one lap for Tegan and one for Van so far,” She announces, holding up one finger for demonstrative purposes. “At least ten throws each. I want to slaughter Gryffindor this weekend,” she tells them, her face still stern and unmoving.

Clavicle Gravely continues jogging and throwing. He starts looking a bit bored doing the repititive activity.

“Sorry, Tegan,” Bailey calls, sounding genuinely apologetic. He wipes his eyes and hair, attempting to dry them a bit, then looks to Tegan again, heaving the ball in her direction again, though this time not quite so hard. He watches in hopes that this throw will redeem himself, by making it a bit easier for her to hit this one where it goes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tegan calls, though her irritation is apparent at the whole scenario. She hits quaffle after quaffle to the best of her ability, lobbing them each to the person who has thrown it while she attempts to keep her vision in all the drenching rain. She’s going to need a nice, hot bath after this. Lobbing another quaffle back, thankfully making more to her teammates than not, Tegan rather overestimates and ends up slipping and falling flat on her back. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” she calls and closes her eyes for a moment before standing up again and trying to rid her robes of mud. Oh, she could not wait for her bath!

“Good shot, Tegan!” Van calls wearily, catching another quaffle directly in the chest. The seventh year yawns a bit, quite tired already, but is jolted a bit as she watches Van fall flat on her back. “Oh, dear,” she breathes and looks carefully to make sure her teammate is alright while awaiting her turn to throw again. This certainly would be a practice to remember.

“Alright, I think the count is…” Noémie flies down while she tries to count up how many drops there were between the lot of them. “Oh, I don’t remember. Six laps for everyone, because ten makes a nice round number, and call it a day.” Noémie dismounts her broom and stands on the wet pitch, her vengeance clearly served as she looks at all of her drenched teammates. “Run your six, then go have a hot shower and do your homework. I don’t want to hear that we have to use someone from the Junior Squad because someone hasn’t done his or her homework.” She walks around, collecting the quaffles, her broom still in hand, then stalks off to the broom shed without much else to say. She is, of course, watching to make sure that nobody skives off their run. There would be hell to pay if she caught someone cheating.

Clavicle Gravely continues running up and down with the other chasers. practicing tossing and catching. He occassionally watches the beater practice.

Bailey Williams takes off for a run as his quaffle is retrived from him. One, two, three… How he hates running! The chaser huffs and puffs, and the last lap of his set is rather slow as he has run out of steam for running and practice. He had to hand it to Noémie, she never ceased to surprise him. The chaser finally finishes his laps and puts his broom away, though the object hasn’t gotten much use this practice, quite glad for once that he had bothered to stretch beforehand. “See you tomorrow,” he mutters to his teammates as he makes his way inside, already stiffening up from the extra activity. Yes, Bailey will sleep very well tonight.

Tegan Madison is quite glad practice is finally over, though she’s sure she didn’t drop the ball quite so many times. Then again, Noémie seemed to just assign an amount to everyone and have on her way. The beater runs at a much slower pace in her final six laps than she had in her first, and much of her anger has subsided and evolved into pure exhaustion as she, too, stores her broom in the shed and makes her way to Ravenclaw commons. Tegan finds herself feeling very glad that she had already finished her homework before coming to practice, because she certainly was not going to be able to manage any homework now.

Van, too, is exhausted at the end of practice, and is, indeed, the last to be off the pitch after her laps. The keeper is rather glad that none of her teammates are around to see her thoroughly dissheveled appearance when she finishes. Van makes some vain attempts to smooth her hair and dry her clothes under an eave near the entrance to the castle, but finds that this is futile and instead stomps on the stairs to the commonroom, headed for hot bath and a warm bed. To hell with homework.

Clavicle Gravely wraps up his part and trots over as he helps clean up the balls and practice gear

The captain of the team organizes the supplies in the shed and then steps back out onto the pitch without her broom. She walks into the center, glancing around, then starts her own set of six laps around the pitch. She would do no less than her team did, even if none of them saw it. The fifth year prefect keeps a steady pace as she does one, two, three laps, then four… After finishing her laps, Noémie slowly makes her way into the castle, for her part, to dry off and clean up a bit, and then to work on her remaining homework. After all, she had OWLs this year, a fact which none of her teammates could claim. The girl shrugs off all thoughts of Quidditch and practicing as she attempts to focus on her schoolwork.

“Ms. Ribouet!” Saphia calls, the first sign of her approach as she dashes across the grounds, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hands, “I have an idea to improve the Ravenclaw team!” As she skids across the still slightly damp grass, she hits the fine turf of the pitch and slips suddenly, skidding toward Noémie looking a bit dazed and then, after a moment’s recovery, bright red with embarassment.

Noémie, who has been flying over the pitch rather absent-mindedly, nearly topples over her broom as Saphia comes racing onto the pitch. “What’s that, Saphia?” the Quidditch Captain asks as she slowly flies down, regaining her usual balance. “What did you say? I didn’t quite hear you.” Noémie steps off the broom and strides the rest of the way to Saphia, who seems a bit red in the face.

Saphia Bona blushes as she picks herself up, trying to brush off as much mud from her robes as possible, “A new broom, Ms. Ribouet! A new broom!” She thrusts the newspaper toward Noémie, the headline on the page in question reading “Ollerton Brothers return to Broom Making With New Sports Broom”. Saphia burbles happily, “They’ve opened a factory, Ms. Ribouet! The Cleansweep Broom Company are making brooms en masse, not just one by one — They’ll be cheaper, more reliable, and since it’s the Ollerton brothers, very high quality! If we could get the team on these brooms, we’d run rings around the opposition!”

“Well, that’s a great idea, Saphia, but…” Noémie trails off, studying the girl thoughtfully as she stands with her broom hanging in her arm. “How are we supposed to afford those brooms? Even if they’re cheaper, I don’t know that we could afford to get them for everyone.” Still, Noémie can’t help but appreciate a good idea. “I wonder if there would be some way we could pool money together for them.” This last is said more to herself than to the girl facing her.

Saphia Bona still beams, cheerfully happy, “If there’s any way I can help, please let me know. I … ” her smile fades a tiny bit, “I know I’m not very good with Quidditch… or co-ordination in general,” she blushes, again trying to knock the mud from her robe, “But I still want to help however I can.”

“Nonsense, you just need a bit of practice; that’s all.” Noémie reaches out to pat Saphia on the shoulder, then sets her broom down, reaching up to secure her rather wind-blown hair. “I’m just not sure how we could manage that, without some real coersion.” She shrugs a bit and glances at Saphia. “What made you think of that? What’s so different about this Comet broom?”

“Well, I’d first wondered about it last year, when the brothers infamously stopped taking orders for new brooms…” She cites, seriously, “And I remembered wondering what project would be so large that all three Ollertons couldn’t keep working? So I was always on the lookout for this.” She smiles, “And really, I think their name speaks for themselves. The Ollerton Brothers have always been among the finest broom-crafters in Britain, and indeed, the world! The Cleansweep won’t be up to their handmade brooms, I imagine, but even so, the chance to have genuine Ollerton brooms would be fantastic. We don’t know what charms they use, trade secrets, but I’d be wagering they at least employ some sort of variation on the Sectum Ventosus charm, because otherwise…” and at this point, unless forcibly stopped, Saphia will undoubtedly fill the rest of the afternoon with trivial, yet very well informed speculation.

Noémie Ribouet can’t help but stare as Saphia starts blathering on about the brooms. “Okay, yes, Saphia. Er. Well, how exactly do you propose we get them, though? I’m sure I can’t afford to buy them for the whole squad; my parents don’t gift me with quite that much pocket money.” Noémie picks her broom up, having finished fixing her hair and looks down at Saphia curiously. “We could suggest everyone get a new broom, but I’d rather not receive letters from angry parents who just recently bought new brooms.”

And with that, Saphia comes to a dead halt. “Oh. Um. Well, I… I confess I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I only just read this fifteen odd minutes ago.” She blushes slightly.

“Well, it’s a good idea. It’s interesting that you immediately thought of that, though.” Noémie chuckles. “Do you often spend time just thinking about Quidditch?” Even Noémie doesn’t spend all her time thinking about Quidditch, though she does spend a great deal of time considering it, especially being captain now. “We could perhaps have a chat with Professor Morgan about it. Maybe she could think of something to make it possible.”

Saphia Bona blushes, and whispers, “I… I think about a lot of things. A lot,” and then, a little softer, “I have trouble sleeping. I’ll be up at night trying to relax, when I’ll start thinking about how something might relate to something else, and then I’ll think of a book that might have the answer.” She sighs, and whispers again, “And then I can’t rest until I’ve checked the book.” A moment passes in pause, “I don’t sleep well.”

Saphia Bona blushes, and whispers, “I… I think about a lot of things. A lot,” and then, a little softer, “I have trouble sleeping. I’ll be up at night trying to relax, when I’ll start thinking about how something might relate to something else, and then I’ll think of a book that might have the answer.” She sighs, and whispers again, “And then I can’t rest until I’ve checked the book.” A moment passes in pause, “I hate my brain.”

“Well, ah,” Noémie replies, seeming a bit speechless. “Well, thank you for coming to me with that. It is a very good idea. I’ll just have to think of how we can manage it.” Noémie nods, glancing around for a moment. “You know, I think I’ll go have a chat with Professor Morgan about it just now. Thanks, Saphia.” Noémie smiles down at her and start striding over towards the broom shed. “I’ll let you know if we decide to do something like that!” Soon, she disappears into the shed, and rummaging is heard while she puts her things away.

Saphia Bona follows Noémie as well, grabbing a pair of training quaffles left on the ground, “I’m glad to help, Ms. Ribouet.” She smiles brightly, “I really would love to see Ravenclaw pull off a double-cup year — House and Quidditch cups.”

“I’m hoping for it, too. I plan to work the team hard so we can prepare ourselves for everything.” Noémie chuckles and finishes storing things away. She strides out, waiting for Saphia to exit so that she can close it up. “You’ll be at practice tomorrow, won’t you? I am hoping for the Junior Squad to be quite successful as well.” She smiles at the younger Ravenclaw, leaning against the side of the building casually.

“Y.. yes…” Saphia hesitates, but quickly adds, “Although if you really want it to be successful, I think you’d best leave me as signwriter for the cheering squad. I’m good at writing.” She emphasises, trying to hide her self-deprication in self-praise.

“Well, as I mentioned, practice makes a big difference. I’m sure if you keep coming to practices, you’ll see a marked improvement. After all, even I was horrible once.” She winks a bit in the true style of her uncle and closes the door to the shed, starting to walk towards the castle. “Tell you what, we’ll work on it extra this year, and you’ll see if you get better or not.” Noémie glances to Saphia again while she continues towards the entrance to the castle.

Saphia Bona hestitatingly smiles at that, but nods… “I… maybe I should play Chaser instead of Seeker on the juniors. That way I’ll have two others to cover for my mistakes… Besides, you’ll be playing seeker on the team for at least the next three years. Well, I suppose at mo… for three years.” She finally finishes.

“Well, barring any catastrophe, I certainly hope to,” Noémie responds with a ringing laugh. The fifth year finds herself at the door to the castle and turns to Saphia. “You come to practice tomorrow, and we’ll see what we come up with, alright? Nothing saying you couldn’t make an excellent seeker and chaser. We’ll see, alright?”

“Alright.” Saphia smiles, “And if nothing else, I’ll make some excellent signs for matches.”

“Yes, sure,” Noémie responds with a chuckle and strides inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” she waves over her shoulder and skips up the stairs towards her commonroom, to work on homework for the evening.

His broom slung across his shoulders, his arms raised so that his wrists dangle off the length of the Windwalker’s shaft, Riley yawns wearily as he strolls out on to the pitch. The dark circles under his eyes are slightly more defined than they had been recently, and he seems a bit pale. His long, brown-red hair hangs loose in front his features, and his beader bat swings lazily from a leather strap on his left wrist.

Yawning after a long day of classes, David walks to the pitch, wondering what the team captain has in store for today’s practice. Fortunately, the weather is not as dismal as it could be in that period of the year, even if it is a bit colder than what David would have liked. Gripping his Moontrimer tightly, the boy smiles as he reaches the spot of the pitch where the other players are already standing, waiting for the practice to start.

Jogging up to the pitch, auburn ponytail bouncing merrily behind her, Kara heads straight toward the shed where the school brooms are kept. Again some time is spent looking for her favorite broom, the first year beams when she finds it, jogging back toward where the others are circling up. Idly inspecting her broom as she waits to hear what she needs to do for practice.

Noémie Ribouet strides onto the pitch, her broom in hand, and rather than just her usual show of carrying the box of Quidditch balls with her, she also has a bucket, filled with rather small white balls. “Hello, everyone,” the captain calls cheerfully, setting down her equipment onto the pitch. “Everyone up and take a lap or two for a warm up!” She kneels down, opening up the box and taking out the quaffles only; she leaves the bludgers and snitch in the box, then takes to her own broom to get the feel of it and warm up a bit.

David greets the team captain with another smile, and happily complies with her order. Last year, a practice session would have begun by a few laps running around the pitch; flying the laps would be *much* less tiresome. David puts his broom on the ground, orders “Up!”, and is soon in the air flying happily around the pitch.

Kara Raine nods toward the captain, offering her a grin and a cheerful ‘Hello’. Listening intently, Kara nods before quickly arranging herself on the school broom, up and away just a few moments behind David. Giggling, the first year leans forward, her broom picking up speed as she zooms around the pitch.

Clavicle Gravely comes in carrying the Sandsweeper 25. He grins and mounts the broom. “Up!” and rises. He begins to comply with the quidditch captains order too! He grins and nods to the Captain as he does so.

Riley Markham tosses his broom to the ground, though it doesn’t seem to require a command to make it pause in midair. Shaft shane with the ground, about waist level to Riley, the second year grabs his broom and kicks up. Flying was easy, flying he could do.

Coming running at a sprint onto the pitch, Bailey stops by the captain to catch his breath. “Sorry, got held up in potions. What’s up first? Laps?” Eyes glancing upwards toward where the others are circling, he doesn’t even wait for Noémie’s reply, instead hops straight on his broom and soars upward, joining in the formation.

As she finishes several laps of her own, Noémie stops down on the ground and beckons for everyone to join her, waiting until the whole team is on the ground with her. “Alright, everyone. I’d like you chasers to head up in the air and play against each other, trying to score more goals. Van, of course, will be trying to block shots. You have to go halfway back to the pitch and back again if you intercept the ball, to make it more realistic. Beaters, I’m releasing one bludger in a moment, and you’ll each try to nail one team of chasers. Please do try to avoid me. Now, Kara, thanks for coming to this practice. What I’d like you to do is throw these golf balls up in the air. I’ve charmed them so that they won’t go too far, in case you end up missing somehow.” The fifth year smiles at the first year. “I would like you to lob them up in the air in random areas, and I’ll try to catch them. It will be good practice for us both, me for my seeking, you for your arm. Riley, take care that you aim, then hit; we don’t want anyone to get injured today.” With that, she claps her hands. “Alright, everyone back up into the air, save for Kara. Here’s your bucket of balls. Just signal to me somehow when it’s empty.”

Van Douglass comes charging up behind Bailey, equally out of breath, cheeks slightly flushed and make-up a bit mussed, though unlike Bailey she doesn’t think to actually provide an adiquette excuse. With a somewhat sheepish look, she flashes Noémie a slightly embaressed smile and leaps on to her broom to perform the laps. Once further instructions are given, she nods and moves to take her natural place at the hoops, competative spirit returning some of her flustered focus.

David nods to the captain, then walks towards the Quidditch box and takes out the Quaffle, before mounting on his broom and flying in the air once again. “Okay… let’s begin, then!” he says, looking briefly at the Beaters before tossing the Quaffle to Clavicle, and flying towards him to take it back, as if he were a player from the opposing team.

Kara Raine circles back down to land, a huge grin upon her features. She listens intently as Noémie explains what is going on, offering the older girl a smile. “Not a problem, glad I can help.” Eyes dart over toward the bucket, before back toward the captain. “Understood.” The first year girl takes the bucket with a grin, holding it in her left arm so that she can toss the balls up with her right. She waits until Noémie is ready and then tosses the first ball up, as soon as it is gone, she darts to another section of the pitch, tossing up another, keeping to a quite random pattern.

Clavicle Gravely comes zooming in. The Sandsweeper is a pretty quick little broom, as oddly shaped as it is. He nods as he listens. He grins as he looks for the quaffle. He slides upwards and into the air and adjusts his gloves. As practice really starts, he does a quick turn and a dip to catch David. And then he’s off like a cannon shot. At first Clavicle is testing the Sandsweeper25′s speed against David’s broom.

Bailey Williams sweeping back down, he waits a few feet off the ground, listening intently to the instructions. Bailey grins as he notices that Clavicle has the quaffle, and in a blink he is off, joining forces with the second year against David. Swinging past the Sandsweeper, Bailey yells out. “I’m with you, and then I’ll switch and play with him.” Two on one, got to love them odds.

Riley Markham cringes as he’s singled out, though he doesn’t soubt it’s warrented. Swinging his bat in to his hand, he pulls back in to the air with a small sigh. All his practicing after class and with the junior team had started to pay off, though he still had a long way to go. “Don’t get nervous, it’s just a bludger.. Just a bludger..” As usual, his flying is somewhat reckless but brilliant. Fast, smooth, and careless. It seems somewhat less so now, however, as he scans the sky for the bludger.. picking it out as it zooms toward Clavicle. Leaning foward, he grits his teeth and zooms toward it, streaking just over David’s head to put himself in to position — pulling up and out, performing a barrel roll, overhanded turn that would seem to keep him on his broom only by grace of centrifugal force, he brings his bat instinctively at the bludger targeting Clavicle.. meaning to aim it at David, but sending it instead blazing toward Bailey.

“Watch it, Riley!” shouts David, as he feels the wind of the air displacement provoked by the second year as he flies by. David looks warily at the Bludger, fearing for a moment that he might need to pull an evasive maneuvre, but apparently the Bludger isn’t for him. Looking back at Clavicle, David realises that he wasn’t as fast as him, and would have to resort to tricks to get him. Deciding to make good use of his broom’s superior behaviour in higher altitude, David pretends to aborts his pursuit and climbs, deciding to take a shortcut and fly directly towards the goal post, hoping to go down towards Clavicle, with a higher speed, when Clavicle would be ready to shoot.

Clavicle Gravely is running a bit of a guantlet to try to avoid capture. He sees Riley’s bludger hit and cries, “Good one Markham! Thanks!” he grins and blinks…not seeing he is being pursued. And in this excersize, there isn’t a ‘wingman’ to toss off to so he leans forward, pouring on the speed. David and he will meet right at the goalpost.

Van Douglass floats in front of the posts, watching both Clavicle and David with ready eyes. Her reason for being late forgotten (even if her cheeks are still somewhat flushed), she is focused entirely on the game now. Waiting.. Waiting was half of her position.

Seeing Kara start tossing the balls, Noémie dives for a couple, narrowly missing taking on in the head while she nabs another, and one falls to the ground. “Make sure you’re spacing them out a bit!” she calls to Kara and tosses the one down that she’s caught, turning quickly to fly up for one that has just flown far, far above her head. She manages to catch it, but missing how many for it? She tosses that one down near where the other one she had caught landed, and watches the first year’s technique as she throws the ball. Yes, the girl would make an excellent chaser with some practice.

At the shout, Kara glances up distracted. Eyes narrow as she focuses on the bludger for a few moments, before shaking herself silently. “Don’t watch them toss the balls up for Noémie.” The captain and seeker is nodded at, as the first year retreives the ‘caught’ ball, and moves off again, taking care to space out her throws and practice just ‘how’ she tosses them up into the air.

His instincts sharpened after playing on the past house team, Bailey easily dodges the bludger, diving down and twisting to the right before turning back to rejoin Clavicle. As the other boy seems to be doing well on his own, he gives David a yell, “I’m switching sides, joining you now. Lets go get ‘em!” One finger pointing toward Clavicle.

Having now reached the highest part of his intended trajectory, David pushes his broom forward into a dive, heading directly towards Clavicle, and getting ready to intercept the Quaffle should he throw it towards the Keeper, or otherwise try to snatch it from his grip. A frontal pass… David would have to be quick, there would be no second chances if he failed to grab the Quaffle.

Riley Markham cringes again, as the bludger goes sailing off the wrong direction. “Damn it!” He hisses, under his breath, before shooting David a slightly annoyed look, almost as if it were his fault that the bludger had somehow magically darted off the other way instead of attacking the third year as he had planned. Besides which, David’s shout before didn’t set well with him. Saying something unkind about third years and bludgers that gets lost in the wind (which is probally for the best, as he would feel terribly guilty later had anyone actually heard it), Riley darts upward once more. Leaning forward on his broom, it streaks like lightning. He really was quite the savvy flier, brilliant, even. It seemed to accent his reckless nature. But pulling about and clubbing the bludger again, trying to send it toward Clavicle and instead simply sending it toward the ground, his aim seemed to be hardly improving. Sweating now, he frowns deeply. He was getting nervous. He had no reason to be getting nervous. And he knew it was throwing his game.

Clavicle Gravely hurls the quaffles right as a blue flash goes by, knocking it away. “What the blazes?” David made the block! Clavicle hmmfs and dives after the boy, trying to catch him. “Bother!”

Van Douglass shifts her gaze toward David, somewhat impressed by the speed and accuracy of his block, though looking no less ready for his attack than Clavicle’s. She was, after all, the only keeper guarding the only set of goals in use. One chaser or another having the quaffle meant the same to her. Drifting somewhat toward the left, perhaps anticipating an attack on that side from David’s angle, she never strays to far from the center hoop.

The second year did indeed send the bludger toward the ground, very close infact to the spot where Kara was preparing to toss Noémie up another ball. At the sound of the incoming bludger, the first year reacts as normal, she dives toward the left landing on the ground with a soft thud, balls spilling out of her bucket and going everywhere. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Kara glances up, mutters a few words no grown wizard, much less a first year should even know, and glances up to wave a fist at Riley. “Go after the ones in the air not on the ground!” Eyes glance over waving toward Noémie and pointing towards the spilled bucket. “Give me a minute to gather them up, before I start tossing them to you again.”

Bailey Williams cheers as David makes the block, tossing a grin over toward Van as he flies near her, “Not bad.” With a little salute to the keeper, the fourth year heads over to keep pace with David and Clavicle.

Having caught the Quaffle, David makes his way towards the centre of the pitch, making a swift 180 turn once he gets there. David then surveys the pitch, trying to assess the situation. The third year suppresses a laugh as his eyes catch the little scene happening on the ground, even if he can’t actually hear what Kara yells from his height. Okay… Clavicle is probably mad now, so David would have to escape him; and Bailey could be dangerous, too. David decides to feint them, flying in a straight line towards the side of the pitch. David‘s clear intention is to use his lesser speed but greater maneuvrability to his advantage when they would be close to him.

“Yeah, yeah!” Riley hisses down at her, as the bludger sails back up toward him, obviously not terribly happy with a target that zoom about in the air. “Sorry! …brat,” he mutters the last word under his breath, however, softly enough to get lost in the whoosp of air around him as he again moves to meet the rising bludger. Concentrate. Focus. These are your mates. You’re fine. Ease up. Untense. “David! Fer you, mate!” Make it a challenge, focus.. Not so hard with the bad, don’t over-extend the arm… CRACK! Again Riley‘s bat connects with the bludger, but this time it seems to actually cooperate. The aim isn’t spectacular, but it at least sails in the general direction of it’s target, hopefully enough to make David swerve off course.

Clavicle Gravely is slowling a touch now…and decides at the quarter way, to run interference…he slows and watches David.. ready to change direction to match the man. He slows to 1/4 speed, this will give him extreme maneuverability, but he will have to floor it top catch the boy when he catches up to where Clavicle is. He watches David carefully.

Shaking her head, Kara finally collects all the escaped balls, offering Noémie a small wave before the girl starts lobbing them up toward her again. Just to be on the safe side, she also intends to keep an eye on the bludger again.

Bailey Williams does an impressive turning maneuver, swinging high on his side while he turns back toward the center of the pitch. A grin is tossed in Clavicle’s direction as the fourth year leans forward, picking up speed, eyes focused on David and the quaffle.

Feeling the tension grow, David gives himself a couple of seconds to come to a good position, then pushes his broom forward and dives to convert some potential energy into kinetic energy. As he dives, he also turns to the left to fly directly towards the goalpost. If he is quick enough, he might be able to lob the Quaffle towards the goal.

Clavicle Gravely gauges the boys approach and zips off back towards the goal, He flies by, attempting to SNAG the Quaffle as he zips by David at full speed! Even if he misses, he hopes his flyby will cause David to wobble!

The second year chaser is fast indeed. David decides to not wait for him and throws the Quaffle at the goal, trying to give as much force to the red ball as he can, but he is still a bit too far away from his best shooting distance. Still, he is reasonably satisfied of himself as he sees the ball flying towards the hoops. He might have a chance…

The sudden throw slightly surprises Van, it was earlier than she expected, but it fails to catch her off-guard. She’d been watching David like a hawk, waiting for a sign of movement, so it doesn’t take much for her to get in to position. His throw is somewhat wider than she’d originally thought, though, and she manages to catch the quaffle — though only by the tips of her fingers, just before it sailed through the left hoop. Turning on her broom to share an impressed nod with the third year, Van tosses the quaffle in to the air and spins on her broom, using the brush of her Freefloater 18 to toss the red ball back out to about middle-pitch. “Nice one, Mildred!” She has no doubt that had she not been watching him as she was, he’d have gotten it past her. He’d improved a lot since last year.

Bailey Williams laughs, David’s throw catching him off guard as well. A thumbs up is given toward Van before racing off in the direction of the tossed quaffle, throwing a complete roll in there to show these new players a bit of how it is done.

Flying here and there as Kara makes her throws, calling out praiseas as Kara’s throws get more challenging for her, and more varied. “Great, one! That’s great!” She zooms around, breathing heavily as she continues heading out for the golf balls, then after a great many catches and a great many misses, she comes to land. “Alright, everyone! Come to land when you like! I’ve got homework to attend to, but I’ll do some of it just over here and keep an eye on you. Good shot, Riley!” she calls to the beater as he makes a particularly deft shot. “You’re doing really well, Kara. Your throws were very challenging for me. I think you’ll make a terrific chaser. Perhaps a keeper, if you’re inclined to that. We’ll se next time, hmm?” Noémie sets her broom down and pulls out her wand, calling all the outlying golf balls to her with a summoning charm.

Alright, so it wasn’t a complete waste. He’d managed to pull off a shot or two, at least. But Riley couldn’t help but feel somewhat dissapointed as he drifted lazily toward the ground, withdrawing his wand and Stunning the bludger so that it could be put back in to it’s case more or less without injury (to those trying to put it away). He was looking terribly tired, and now that the light had dwindled, even more pale. And now his brow was creased in thought, trying to work out a better quidditch game for himself.

Kara Raine jogs up to Noémie, mostly empty bucket in hand and helps gather up the balls. “Thanks! It was really fun, I decided toward the end there to start changing the way I was tossing them, and I can really see a difference in how they went.” A red blush spreads across her cheeks, “Oh, thanks Noémie. I’m not sure yet, but I have always liked the chasers.” She hangs around for awhile to see that everything is put up, before jogging back off toward the castle.

Clavicle Gravely does a tight bank and goes to get the quaffle before returning to Noémie. He is the last to land and grins as he does so. “That was a brilliant hit Riley!” Clavicle apparently misses the subtleties Riley was shooting for and was just glad not to have a bludger to his head.

Bailey Williams circles down in a lazy spiral, coming to land gently beside the others. “Hey, good job there at the end Riley, you are really starting to get the hang of hitting them.” An appreciative nod is cast in Clavicle’s direction too. “Good job as well. It turned out to be a great practice Captain.”

Van Douglass almost immediately lands once they’re dismissed, jumping down off her broom a good way before it has reached the ground. As soon as she has collected herself, she’s moving back toward the castle at a brisk pace. Obviously, she has things to do and people to sno–see. “Great practice, all!” She calls back, warmly, before dashing off.

Riley Markham nods to both Clavicle and Bailey, smiling weakly to both in turn, before guiding the bludger back in to the case with the tip of his wand. Once it’s latched in, he exhales a soft breath. “Thanks guys,” he mutters, but after collecting up his broom, he starts up toward the castle alone. A lot on his mind.

Left to clean up on her own, Noémie picks up everything, piling it all back into their appropriate containers before making her way back to the broom shed to put things away. Another day, another practice. Noémie waves as each player exits and makes her way back into the castle alone, intending, of course, to see them in the commonroom.

Striding onto the pitch on a clear, warm day in mid-autumn, Noémie breathes in deeply, looking quite pleased at the feel of this day. She drops the case of balls down onto the ground and takes to her broom, swooping around with her typical grace, just getting a feel for the air as it is this fall day. Her hair streams behind her wildly, looking rather like light-brown fire as she zooms over the pitch. Before long, she takes to the ground again, where she has left their quidditch balls and starts pulling her hair back in an attempt to pull the wavy mass out of her face.

It’s about the time that Riley Markham makes his way out on to the pitch, his school robes undone and hanging loosely off his shoulders. His cassual clothes underneath, a partially unbuttoned cotton dockshirt, and a pair of slightly wrinkled slacks held up by suspenders, left open for inspection at the soft breeze pulls at both his openned robes and the mass of mid-back length, marroon-colored hair that he works on typing back as he walks. His beater bat hanging limply from a leather strand at his wrist, tapping him in the cheek as he backs back his wild-locks.

Van Douglass walks alongside Riley, holding his broom while he goes about the process of preparing himself to practice. Her eyes fall briefly on the his scar-enveloped left hand, which seems to be snagging hairs away from the ponytail he attempts to make, but she says nothing about it, simply handing him his broom back once he’s finished. She does, however, turn her gaze upfield afterward and passes a wave toward Noémie. “Hello!”

Chaser Bailey Williams strides onto the pitch, now quite tall after his summer growth spurt. “Hoy, Noémie!” he calls to his new captain. “Hey, Van, Riley. It’s our year, eh?” The fourth year chuckles and takes to his broom. “Quaffle, please?” he calls and holds his arms out as he hovers just a few feet above Noémie’s head. “It’s great to be on the pitch again. We were travelling all summer, so I haven’t been on a broom in ages.” Receiving the quaffle from the captain, he flies up and starts a lap around the large pitch, to warm up.

“Start warming up, and I’ll let the bludgers loose in a moment or so.” Pausing for a moment, she adds. “Well, perhaps just one, so poor Riley doesn’t get overwhelmed.” A hearty laugh echos from Noémie‘s mouth as she stretches her arms and starts doing some of her ballet stretches, as she is often seen doing in the holding room before games. Finally stretched she reaches down and looks up at her teammates above her. “Bludger, coming up!” She announces, letting said ball loose. She then mounts her own broom and zooms up near the hoops. “Give it here, Bailey!” she calls, laughing a bit. Noémie as Chaser? Stranger things have been known to happen.

“Here it comes,” the boy announces, chucking it halfway across the pitch. He starts flying in her direction, laughing a bit as it doesn’t come near making it to her. He snatches it up and tosses it up to her. “C’mon, Van! We can smoke you!” A loud laugh emits from Bailey, and he stifles himself, still not quite used to his own deepening voice. He zooms around the pitch, rather goofily, enjoying his time in the air now after a whole summer without flight.

Riley Markham chortles as he mounts his broom, slipping off his school robe and tossing it down beside the box of quidditch balls. Without missing a trick, he mounts his broom and kicks off in to the air, flying much more confidently now that a certain someone isn’t here to distract him and turn his face all interesting shades of purple. “I can take as many bludgers as you can dish out,” he calls, cockily, swinging his bat about on his wrist.

“I can relate to that, Bailey!” Van chuckles, hopping up on to her broom without delay and moving toward the hoops with a pleasant expression. “It’s been so long, I was afraid I’d forget how to fly!” Once there, she takes the position she’d practiced last year — turned slightly side-ways, so that she could use the back of her broom to deflect incoming quaffles as well as her hands. She was a bit rusty from the long summer, but the blood was already pumping and she was excited to get back in to the swing of things! “Go ahead and try it!”

Riley Markham flipping his bat up in to his sandpaper hand, Riley dives after the bludger, pulling up in time to give it a good hearty smack in the direction of Bailey — but his thrust and swing is so great that it knocks him off-center, and the bludger goes sailing wide right, hardly close enough to even make the chaser readjust his course.

“Oh, no, I certainly can’t do that!” Noémie laughs, good-naturedly, as she flies around, and drops the ball back to Bailey who is swooping around rather enthusiastically. She flies up above the hoops, looking down on her teammates. Reaching for her wand, she releases the snitch for her own practice, still keeping an eye on her teammates. “It’s our year! I believe that the cup will come to Ravenclaw this year!”

Van Douglass shifts her gaze toward the bludger that goes astray before leaning back on her broom, watching Noémie and Bailey approach while shouting advice to Riley from afar. “You’re over-extending yourself! Ease up a little and control your swing a bit more.” She waits and waits for the switch and the quaffle to come her way, suspecting that it will be a quick pass to Noémie who will shoot, but hardly discounting Bailey from the equation.

Riley Markham passes a glance back to Van before giving a small nod and pulling back up after the bludger he knocked astray earlier, ducking inbetween Noémie and Bailey to get to it. Moving at a nearly blurring speak, causing his marroon hair to whip behind him in the wind like a long get of flame, he spins his broom with a quick bank and tries to do as Van suggested. Pulling in his power and controlling his swing, not putting his full force in to the blow, he directs the bludger toward Noémie. This time, the arch of the leather-wrapped cannonball swinging much closer. Hopefully enough so to cause her to veer off..

“Sure thing,” Bailey laughs, rearing back and lobbing the quaffle in Van’s direction. “Take that!” He yells with a laugh, doing a whirl of a turn, rather goofily after he does so. He then stops and watches to see whether Van manages to block his shot or not. “EEEeeeeeeeEEEEEeeee,” he calls, trying to distract the older girl from the shot he has just attempted. He doesn’t appear to be entirely taking this practice seriously, rather, enjoying being on the pitch and in the air.

Van, on the other hand, is taking the practice quite seriously. She’s having fun, naturally — her broad grin would give that away, no questions. But there is a competetive streak in her that just won’t be satisfied unless she gives nothing short of her best. It’s why she joined the quidditch team in the first place. She wasn’t world class, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to be. Noting Riley’s bludger sailing toward Noémie, hopefully countering any last minute passes, Van pulls up in time to make a block for the ball, though it does slip out of her fingers, causing her to make a quick dive for it to snatch it out of the air before tossing it up and hitting it with the tail of her broom out to about mid-pitch. She had gotten rusty over the summer. She’d have to work out some of the kinks.

Swerving hard left to avoid Riley’s hit with the bludger, Noémie flies away rather quickly in a loop, to avoid the Bludger’s return. “Be careful, Riley! The idea is not to hit your own teammates!” Noémie calls to him, suddenly flying hard across the pitch, in the direction of a gold spec. She zooms back upward soon, empty-handed, as the little ball had zoomed off before she had even the chance to see it more closely. She cheers as Van makes a very successful block. “Good one, Van! Go again, Bailey!” The girl whoops, something that is usually not her style. Today, though, the usually calm, refined girl seems to have boundless energy and be generally and openly excited.

Bailey Williams has to fly far down the pitch to catch the Quaffle where Van has chucked it. “Good shot there, Van!” He flies back, swerving every which way, leaning more towards the right side of the hoops, which he knows in the past to be her weak side. The fourteen-year-old zooms around the hoops, coming back around to Van’s front, before throwing the Quaffle hard for the left-most hoop, hoping perhaps he’s starting to get his edge back. “Too bad David and Clavicle aren’t here,” he laments. “We could start working on our fluid teamwork. Lord knows we could use to do better now that Angelina’s gone!”

“Sorry! Just testing that out!” Riley calls back, with a bit of a sheepish grin. At least he had gotten it closer to her! Maybe there was something to Van’s suggestion after all. Pulling in and down, Riley chases after the bludger, turning in midnight as it narrows in on Bailey. A quick duck and a quick burst of speed forward and he’s out there, he swings, but his bad swings as the bludger makes a last second change in direction and he barely graces the underside of the ball. Swearing, loudly, in gobbledegook, Riley hooks about dangerously on his broom, doing something of a barrel-roll turn that keeps him mounted only by centrifigal force and luck before pushing foward to chase after both the bludger and chaser. “It’s on you, Bailey!”

Van Douglass is busy watching the quaffle, not the bludger following the chaser, so she’s fairly well distracted as Bailey circles the hooks, prepared for a block on her left side. That was the problem about circling the hoops. Shooting from behind was against the rooms, so if you didn’t take your shot on one side, you were terribly likely to take it on the other unless you were planning to circle around again. This time, Van snatches the ball cleanly out of the air, a slightly smug, satisfied expression touching her lips before the sound of the bludger alerts her and ducks, just as the bludger that had been following Bailey passes through the space her had had been occupying a few moments ago. “Beater, keep up!” She calls, repeating her mid-field broom toss of the quaffle, shooting Riley a monentarily annoyed look.

Missing the bludger-score entirely, Noémie dives towards the ground, spying that familiar gold ball once again. She flies near to the ground, her toes dragging along the grass now and then, until she finally closes her hand around the snitch. Ah, she, too, is out of practice. But that was what these were for, wasn’t it? “Let’s do some laps, and call it a day,” She calls to her teammates. “We’re losing the light, and I didn’t remember to bring the lights today.” She waves her arm in a circle, directing them around the pitch counter clockwise. She starts off in that direction herself, and is already looped halfway around the pitch in just a moment, starting her own set of laps to keep herself in practice.

Riley Markham cringes as the Keeper ducks under the bludger, though Bailey’s roll around the hooks gives him the perfect oppertunity to double in front of the goals and gain ground on the cannonball. His bat connecting with it this time in a good, solid, satisfying way, sending it hurtling in to the stands. His form chaotic again, all power and no finesse. But at least he got it away from the chaser.

Riley Markham mutters something fairly unkind toward himself about his lack of skill before pulling his wand out from his back pocket and pointing it rathering annoyedly at the bludger darting about. His scarred, sandpaper hand requires him to hold his wand slightly awkwardly in an underhanded way with his fingertips trailing the length of the wooden shaft. His spell’s accuracy, however, is unerring as he mutters a crisp, clean, “Tendo!” The ball of white light that bursts from the tip of his wand evelopes and slows the bludge as though it were encased in ice, drawing it bcak toward the tip of Riley‘s wand and rooting it there until they land after the laps and Riley can put the bludger away. In the meantime giving him the odd impression of carrying a stick of leather-flavored cotton candy.

Van Douglass seems relatively pleased with the practice, but for the bludger she nearly suffered to the back of the head. Still, for a raw recruit to the team, she had to admit that Riley showed promise. He flew well — excellently, actually — and he had power to spare. She just hoped he’d learn some control before one of the Ravenclaws ended up in the hospital wing from their own beater’s bludger. “Good practice, Noémie!” Van calls, after performing the laps and landing.

Swooping quickly with the quaffle in hand, Bailey does several laps around the pitch, up and down, back and forth, being less serious than he probably should be, and finally lands, plopping the quaffle into the box without worrying about securing it. He strides towards the broom shed with a wave. “See you tomorrow then?” he calls to everyone, knowing the obvious answer. “I promise I’ll focus better tomorrow!” He laughs loudly and stows his broom away, trotting back into the castle to tend to other duties.

“Hey, wait! I’ll walk with you!” Van calls, running after Bailey and dissapearing with him in the direction of the castle.

Riley Markham locks the bludger away with a small sigh, releasing it for the tip of his wand with a frustrated, “Nox.” Turning his gaze toward Noémie, he cants his head slightly, considering it for a moment before giving a slight nod. “You think it’ll help?”

Riley Markham finally nods, thoughtfully, picking up his robes and shuffling them back on with a little nod. “Alright,” he murmurs, before grinning a bit. “Yeah, I think I could be up for that. Gotta figure this’n out before our first match, for sure..”

“I do think it will help. After all, I had to practice my flying and such for a couple of years before I made the team. I’ve only been on since my third year.” Only. “Every little bit helps.” She smiles at him, closing up the box and latching it. She picks up the box and her own broom and stands erect. “You don’t have to show up to all of them, but whenever you feel like it, you can feel free to join us. It could very likely help your aim, I think. We’ll work extra hard on that.” Noémie pats him on the back, standing a mite taller than him. “You’d better go get your homework done, though. Can’t have my team forgetting to do their homework.” Her laugh rings out, and she starts heading towards the broomshed to put the equipment away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Riley!”

Riley Markham frowns, at that. Homework was the natural bane of his existance, but with a small mutter and nod, he flashes an almost rakish, cynical half-grin up at Noémie; the sort that is quite handsome now, but in a few years might be able to stop hearts, before taking up his broom and bat and starting for the castle. He’d had his work cut out for him, but at least this challenge was fun!

Noémie Ribouet stands in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, her broom in hand. Her hair is pulled back from her face and fastened somehow to the back of her head. The box of Quidditch balls sits nearby, as well as a few extra Quaffles laying about on the ground. It is a cool day, and the sky is clear as the new captain waits for her housemates to show up for Trials, deciding that there couldn’t be better weather for the start of their season.

Dolly Faeden strides to the pitch with her head held high, of course broomless. The girl looks around at all the older students and her expression, for a moment, quails. She is allowed to try, isn’t she? She comes to rest near Noémie and gives the captain a small, somewhat nervous smile. Clavicle is spotted and, should she catch his eye, a bigger smile surfaces.

David follows the other Ravenclaws, chatting with the older members of the team. He carries his Moontrimmer on his left shoulder, confident enough to make the team once again this year, and considerably less scared to do than he was last year. As he arrives on the pitch, he stops near the team captain, and gives her a nod and a smile.

Saphia Bona steps out with Clavicle and Riley, looking hideously nervous and worried. What was she thinking? She’s no quiditch player. She knows she isn’t. Why on earth was she even trying out for this? This was going to be a disaster.

Clavicle Gravely Waves to Dolly when he sees her and then walks over to Saphia and whispers to her, “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.” he nods his head lower. “Please forgive me.”

Kara Raine wanders in with a large group of first years, but when they divert to head toward the stands, she pauses, and heads over onto the pitch instead. Sliding up by Dolly, she nods to those around her. “I know I am a first year, but I heard something about a junior squad, so.” She too is broomless, but, quickly pulls her hair back with a ribbon, looking eager and interested.

Riley Markham follows Saphia, Clavicle, David and the rest on to the field with a small yawn — though conpared to his usual self, he seems bit more awake and alert than he has for the last few days. Still, he’s rather pointedly avoiding Saphia’s gaze, and seems to have something else on his mind as he twirls his black beater’s bat from a leather string on his wrist.

“Alright, first years, make sure you’ve got brooms. The broom shed is just over there — I’m sure you know that already — so secure a broom then queue up right over here.” Noémie waves her arm in the direction of the area where she’d like them to gather. “Everyone else, I’d like Keepers to queue right here, Chasers over here, and Beaters over here. If you were thinking of coming out for Seeker, I must apologise and ask you to take your place in another area or head back to the commons, for I will be playing Seeker again this season.” Noémie pauses and lets out a little giggle. “I’m sorry, alright, gather up everyone!” Noémie watches taking her broom up in her hand and holding it at her side while the Ravenclaws situate themselves.

Saphia Bona huffs a little at Clavicle, but finds it hard to stay angry at people and whispers, “I can’t believe you thought I’d keep a grudge at you for that, Clavicle. I’m a better person tha– oh.” Saphia‘s heart falls as Noémie makes her announcement, and she stops dead in her tracks. “Well, anyway, people. I… I’d better head back and… study.”

Clavicle Gravely frowns a bit as he shrugs and heads over to the chaser line of things. He shrugs, knowing he has at least 2 more years to wait before he can try for seeker. He snags Saphia’s arms and drags her over to the chaser side of things. “Not today… you are trying out.” he grins at her. “Don’t count yourself out.”

Dolly Faeden pipes up before heading to get her brook, “What about Seeker for the firs’ year team?” She doesn’t hold any delusions of making the team, and in fact, after she has trotted over to the shed and found the least wobbly looking broom, hovers uncertainly. “Do we needtae line up with everyone else?” She tilts her head somewhat to the side, eyebrows raised curiously.

David ignores the discussions going on around him and concentrates on the tryout. He, however, smiles at Riley and Saphia as he notices them in the crow, waves to them, and walks to line up with the Chasers.

Listening intently as the Captain tosses out instructions, Kara glances over toward the shed, and then the waiting area. Once given the go a head, the first year dances over toward the shed, spending a good few minutes trying to find the broom she has used before. With a grin, it is quickly snatched up and place is resumed where Noémie indicated. “Dolly, I think we are suppose to, line up over here I mean. So you like Seeker? I can’t decide between Seeker or Chaser myself.”

Riley Markham glances to Saphia briefly, then flickers his eyes toward Clavicle with a look that is perhaps a bit sharper that is truly nessicarily, before muttering something somewhat vague about Saphia potentially being a decent chaser before moving to place himself in the beater line. His Windwalker S-series broom slung over his shoulder lazily.

Saphia Bona is dragged, despite protests of ‘but I’ll never be any good at chaser!’ into the chaser line, picking up a broom along the way. As she stands there for a moment, she looks around, looking very much like a frightened deer, caught in the hunter’s nets. She’s gone before she’s even in the air.

Clavicle Gravely smirks. “And you said you could never do charms either…but you do excellent there. And if you make the team.. Riley over there will be twice as good at beating things…so take one for the team and try Eh?

“No, no, you first years just stay in your own queue. You’ll try out with everyone else, but I’d like you all to try everything.” Noémie smiles patiently at Dolly and glances around as the others gather in the areas that she had designated. “Alright, we’ll start with the chasers and keepers. First years, come over here and join us. Alright, everyone put your brooms down. Yes, on the ground.” She steps over and picks up the Quaffles, one by one, tossing them to the Chaser candidates. “Alright, you’re now going to toss them back and forth to one another, while you run down the pitch, and when you reach the end, one of our lovely keeper candidates will attempt to block the shot from the shorter hoops I’ve set up. We’ll get in the air in just a bit. Alrigt, keepers, head down that way, and Chasers, first years, two lines please, balls in one line.”

Dolly Faeden murmurs in an undertone to Kara, “I dunnae, really. I’ve ne’er done more than ride a broom, but Seeker seems interestin’. Either that or Beater.” She doesn’t really look like the type, but a sly grin and then –”Aye!” to Noémie as she moves with the other first years who are more or less better at discerning exact meanings without questions. She frowns a little bit but discards her broom, staying close to Kara.

Riley Markham turns a rather fabulous shade of scarlet as he shoots back a glare past his shoulder toward Clavicle. A flush that he desperately tries to hide by immediately snapping his gaze back as if he hadn’t looked toward he and Saphia at all. No one can claim Riley a master of subterfuge, that’s for certain. “Like you’re head, Clavy! Shut it.” The bite to his words half-fire, half-mutter. Shifting his attention, he focuses himself on Noémie with a resolute expression, dropping his broom down lazily.

Clavicle says, “Why Riley? Want me to lose the House 50 points for stupidity?”

Kara Raine smiles at Dolly, “Seeker is, interesting, but you have to be fast with a quick eye, come on, they are lining up.” Reaching up to make sure her hair is secured behind her head, Kara practically skips over into line, dropping her broom to the ground before she gets there. Grinning at Dolly and the first year before her, it is only then that turns to nod toward the chaser candidate opposite her.

David walks towards Saphia, trying to reassure her that everything would be all right. “Saphia… don’t worry, I was scared last year, too, and look, I made the team. So it’s not that difficult at all.” he whispers to her, before looking back at Noémie. The boy is getting a bit impatient to start the trials and to see if the backyard flying he did during the summer would yield some improvement to his way of playing.

“Quiet! The only talking I want to hear is communication between you all about what your next motion is going to be,” Noémie snaps quickly looking at all of the students queued. “Alright, GO!” she calls, waving her arm towards the end of the pitch where the first keeper has only just gotten in place. “Quickly now, quickly! Pass that ball!” She watches with a quick eye, trying to see who passes the ball most efficiently and communicates best with his or her teammates. “Alright, next team go, don’t run over the ones up that away, quick! Quick, quick quick!” Noémie seems to have become a bit redfaced with the yelling, and her wavt hair is starting to loosen itself from where she fastened it.

Saphia Bona ‘s heart sinks yet again. “I’m done for…” she whispers. “I’m not even going to get on my broom.” She gets in line and waits until she gets in her turn, and then runs down the field. As she gets the quaffle early on, she attempts a rudimentary tactic by slowing her running as they approach the keeper, and then a quick pass to the opposite chaser… but her throw is limp-wristed and weak and doesn’t even make the distance. Red faced, she trudges back to her line.

Clavicle Gravely looks at Riley and Saphia. He smirks. “Saphia…when you are mad you do great. So get mad. Get confident, get aggressive.” he nods. “Aim it at my head first….you can do this…. Or if you want switch to Keeper.. it’s not as throwy…but a lot more blocky

Dolly Faeden catches the ball a bit awkwardly, saved mostly by the Gripping Charms quaffles are equipped with. “Oi!” she calls, passing the ball to her partner, a round faced third year boy who catches the ball deftly. “M’name is Dennis!” is his reply, throwing the ball back. Thereafter it becomes running and calling out “Dolly!” and then “Oi, oi, Dennis!” The running, Dolly is good at, and even passing the ball back to Dennis she does well enough, but several times she has to dart suddenly forward or sideways and nearly stumbles trying to keep the ball from dropping more than once.

Rather despite his adminantly looking away from her and hardly speaking to her on the way to the field, Riley‘s eyes are locked upon Saphia as she runs pitch. He cringes as she throws, but that hardly keeps him from cheering. “Cheers, Saphia! Good effort!” And as she trudges back to the line, he turns to her with a slightly arched brow. “Yer aim was on, but your ppower was off. Straight arm it, throw with yer body and not just yer arm. You’ll do alright, eh? Here.. cutting out of his line for a second, he moves to stand beside Saphia, demonstrating what he means, giving a waist up, lean-forward hurl at the air. “Like that, see?”

Clavicle Gravely takes a quaffle and begins tossing it up and around. “Who’s with me and Saphia?” he asks as he jogs out taking a bit of initiative. He trots forward and looks over at Saphia. “Come on then… snap to it. It’s just a lesson. A set of problems. We have to distract , confuse, and obfuscate our attack to get it past the keeper.” he grins as he tosses her the quaffle. “UIse your weight like a penduluum. You can toss a good punch…this is the same.”

Kara Raine bends down, waiting patiently till it is her and her partner’s turn. With a nod toward the older boy running beside her, she tosses the quaffle over in a nice smooth ark. Her partner easily catches it, pauses and lobs it back, Kara just managing to grab hold and tuck it in. A bit more distance is covered, the first year giving a yell before she passes the red ball back over. As the posts draw near, the keeper candidate tries to block her partner’s toss, but the quaffle sails through the closest hoop with ease. Kara lets out a whoop of excitement, and goes over to hi-five her partner, before running back down the pitch to get in line.

As Saphia gets back (already huffing a little) she notices that her keeper is the same one Clavicle will be facing, and whispers to him, “He’s weak on the right side — Doesn’t use both his hands well. Use a Mischla Mis-step — Both of you run left, and then the one without the quaffle bolts right. If he bites on it, the other one shoots. If not, pass quickly and try to hit the far right hoop.” She nods sagely, but still looks depressed.

Riley Markham simply blinks.

Clavicle Gravely grins at Saphia, He knew just presenting it in the right way, a problem that needs solving, would activate her ‘Ravenclaw’ mode. He shoots Riley a ‘How about them apples’ look and nods. “Right. Here we go.” And he begins going through the maneuver, running left suddenly. Clavicle has played some soccer in the carnival with muggle kids, so he can be a little quick. He sees Saphia’s prediction almost coming true. But the keeper switches to guard Clav, so Clav yells “On your right foot!” and tosses the quaffles to Saphia…

When David‘s turn comes, the boy catches the Quaffle thrown by the player who ran to the chaser before him and runs towards the keepers. When he has ran about a third of the distance, a bit faster than his partner, he slows down to let him catch up with him and throws the Quaffle to him. He resumes his course towards the keepers, catching the Quaffle thrown back to him with a little difficulty (the other player having thrown it a bit higher that what he should have ideally done). Cursing profusely under his breath, he throws the Quaffle towards the goals with all the force he can manage. As bad luck would have it, the Quaffle is, however, deflected by the Keeper. David comes back towards the other players with a glum look.

Saphia Bona runs again, and indeed, the ploy is good. Saphia‘s left with a nice metre of sunlight in which to make the shot… but her aim is wavery, her power weak. It hits the rim of the hoop and bounces off. No good.

As the line of Chasers finally comes to an end, Noémie claps loudly. “Alright, keepers and Chasers queue up over here and get your breath. Beaters, I want you all to take up a bat now, and face someone. Firsties, any of you who would like to give this a try are welcome to join them.” She pauses, waiting as a few first years join the group of beaters. She then pulls up a few rather old looking balls, hard, which look much like bludgers, save that they are entirely tame. “I would like you all to bat this back and forth, just as a warm-up. If you drop it, don’t worry, just pick it up and keep going. In the meantime…” Noémie turns back to the group who has all gathered around now. “If you would all take to your brooms, I think I’d like to see some flying.

Saphia Bona slumps at her poor effort in the first trial, and whispers to Riley as she walks past him, “Good luck, Riley. You can do it. I believe in you.” And for a brief moment, her smile is utterly genuine. Then it’s back to doom and gloom over her own failures.

Clavicle Gravely walks over to his SandSweeper 25. The oddly shaped Egyptian broom. “Up.” and the broom zips up into his hand. He watches Noémie and grins at Saphia. “You just have to get mad, pretend the hoop is my ego. And there you have it. You’ll be nailing it from Midfield no problem.”

Riley Markham mutters something toward Clavicle; something quite rude about a body part and a place where it would be fairly difficult place said body part without the intervention of a knife, or at least a very strong person. But obediently, he goes to collect up bat, unable to help being somewhat impressed about Saphia’s strategy, and further unable to keep his cheeks from glowing red once more as Saphia walks by and whispers to him. “Er, ah.. thanks, you, too, eh?” Of course, that only makes him cringe after she’s no longer facing him, considering she’s just done part of her bit. Pairing up with one of the other beaters, he draws a deep breath and desperately tries to focus, almost jumping when the crack of the tame bludger against his mate’s bat alerts him that he should be paying more attention. Acting on instinct, he flips his bat in to his hand and waves it in to the air, giving the bludger a mighty crack. One that send the bludger sailing through the goal hoops at the opposite end of the field, even. But unfortunately far and away from his partner, who looks at him with slightly wide eyes.

Kara Raine bounces over toward Noémie and the others, all smiles if not still slightly breathless. “Beater? Nah, that’s not for me.” Broom is retrieved, and Kara quickly mounts it, hovering a few feet off the ground before zooming off. Giggling wildly, the first year leans forward, and the Moontrimmer quickly responds, as Kara begins a nice, if rather fast, circle of the pitch, auburn hair coming loose and flowing wildly behind her. She is however, still listening intently to see if any further commands are called out.

“Ugh,” Riley groans, already marching down the field to collect the stray, lifeless bludger from where he’d knocked it. “My fault, my fault..” Breathing slightly hard once the ball is collected and he’s returned to his previous place, he puts on a face of focus and he and his partner swing it around a bit more. Riley seems to have a similar problem each time. He has no problem getting in front of the bludger and hitting it, but his power usually causes it to overshoot his partner by several yards, and his arm is terrible, causing it to sail far off to one side. Still, there is clear, natural athletisim to the red-haired boy. He might not move with Clavicle’s carnival grace, but his movements are strong, confident and quick.

Dolly Faeden finishes with the Chaser trial, cheeks bright red, but joins the Beaters as well. As she grips a bat, getting used to it, she eyes her partner–a short, stocky fifth year girl. At the go ahead, Dolly tosses the ball into the air and hits it-rather dead on–at her partner… who dodges out of the way with a frightened squeal. “Ey! You cannae be dodgin’ the ball!” Dee’s a bit disappointed, when everyone else gets to fly. Her partner retrieves the ball and hits it back, though, and there’s no time to pout. With a crack, Dee sends it shooting, and her partner has to run sideways to hit it again. Pretty soon there are more sounding cracks than exclaimations of frustration, as both Dee and her partner do a relatively good job, although neither seems to be any good at aiming the ball.

With a push, Saphia takes to the air. To her credit, her takeoff is clean and well performed. She moves in a straight line. Her speed is only slightly below average, and she turns well. That being said — Her flying is distinctly sub-par nonetheless. She doesn’t have a good grasp of how to move in a three-dimensional space and she certainly can’t move fast enough for Quidditch.

Clavicle Gravely takes to the air with a swift upburst of speed. He banks to the side to fly a quick circle around the stadium. He is perhaps showing off the foreign brooms speed a bit, as he pours it on fully. The broom is fast, the Sandsweeper was built for speed and maneuverability. The broom slows as he rolls a bit and comes back to a waiting position as he looks to Noémie for her directives.

David walks to where he has put his Moontrimmer, puts his hand over it and commands: “Up!” The broom immediately jumps up in his hand, and David mounts it, before launching himself in the air and flying swiftly towards Saphia. He flies at her side, encouraging her: “You’re not flying so bad that what you told us…” he says, grinning at her, and escorting her for a while, before breaking his trajectory and flying over Noémie. “Could we have a Quaffle?” he yells to her.

As a few of the other students have fun flying in formation, Saphia yells (as loudly as she can) “You need to be more careful on those attack runs! If you all went into the goal-scoring area like that, you’d be called for stooging for sure!” Looking at a second flier, she flies over to him and also points out how he might have been charged for traking in a few of his cross-over passes, “… and besides which, it’s unsafe in a practice.” The sixth year student she corrests impolitely tells her to buzz off… but she’s actually correct.

Reaching for her own broom, Noémie looks in concern as mock bludgers seem to be flying everywhere. She shakes her head discreetly then looks to the air as many of the students try to show off their brooms or flying skills. She bites her lip as she watches the students in the sky, as if she is considering each one separately. “Alright, Beaters, take to your brooms. “Accio box!” she shouts, and another box of Quidditch balls comes to her side. She glances only momentarily as David he makes a request and ignores him for the moment. “Keepers, split into two groups. I want one group at each set of hoops.” She watches as they scramble doing so. “No, no, you, over to that set! Even it out!” Her voice resonates over the pitch. “Alright, I’m releasing the bludgers, Beaters, at your ready…” She opens each box and one by one lets all four bludgers fly up into the air. She then tosses four quaffles up, at various chasers, taking to her own broom quickly to watch the action. “Make as many goals as you can, come now! Go!”

Clavicle says, “Saphia! Show them by example.” he grins as he does a barrel roll as he takes off in a line and snags a quaffle. The boy spins the broom in a half donut and shoots in the opposite direction. “David.. get ready for a pass!” he charges at the hoop and runs a feint as he tosses the quaffle to David to score.”

Nodding, while in sheer terror at the chaos about to be unleashed, Saphia calls Clavicle and Riley to her with hand gestures, grabs a quaffle, and points downward toward the ground. “Antokovic Ascent! Riley, hit the bludgers at the keepers as we come up!” She dives to get a low angle on the hoops, hoping for a clear shot after Riley’s cover.

The first year was right around the posts when Clavicle zoomed by, Kara wobbles slightly at his passage before banking sharply to pour on more speed. The first year girl roars down the length of the pitch, just a few feet off the ground, slowing down only at Noémie’s words. Maneuvering over toward the end where her former partner was, Kara gives the boy a grin, and as soon as the balls are released she is off. Luck was on her side, as she just managed to snag a quaffle out of the air under a second year’s nose before banking sharply to dodge a incoming bludger. With a yell to her former partner, she flies in close and passes the red ball over, weaving to the left around an opposing chaser, before starting a zigzag pattern toward the other team’s hoops.

David catches the Quaffle deftly as Clavicle shoots it towards him. As he was still near the middle of the pitch, hovering over the students on the ground, he zooms towards the goal posts, slaloming between the players who where already in the air. Arriving near the goal posts, David pretends to be aiming at the middle hoop, throwing in fact the Quaffle at the rightmost goal. David sees with satisfaction that the Quaffle went right through the goal, and he enters into a dive to catch back the Quaffle as it falls slowly near the ground.

“Come now, stop the theatrics, just play!” Noémie calls to several of the people who are attempting to do great feats to make scores. “Just plain Quidditch!” She tuts and shakes her head, watching as pandemonium seems to erupt on the pitch, with quaffles and bludgers going every which way. She pulls a small whistle out of her pocket, watching the action take place, making sure to keep an eye on each of the people out there to see what their skills as a team seem to be. She hovers very still, away from the action, only yelling out when she finds it necessary.

Riley Markham mounts his broom and kicks up in to the air as ordered, eyes narrowing as the thrill of open air grows under his feet. This had been the part he’d been waiting for. His real talent. He flicks his gaze back toward Saphia, before giving a small nod and zeroing in on a bludger coming up on path toward Clavicle and deflecting it away speed and agility. He does try Saphia’s tactic, though his aim is poor and goes far enough right that it’s jardly a threat to the incoming chasers. He’s already zipping across the field, though, to defend David from the other bludger with a might crack of his bat.

It’s enough, though. The keepers scatter and Saphia lobs the ball high to Clavicle, who has a clear and open shot at goal. Her pass actually makes it to him!

Far from dropping what she’s doing to clamber to fly, Dolly looks disappointed to have to stop. Still, stop she does, and then it’s up on the broom. Flying smoothly, it’s obvious she has had practice and is in fact somewhat naturally good. Still, it takes her a full minute and a half to catch a Quaffle. Spotting Dennis, she gives another loud “Oi!” it being her word of the day, but doesn’t pass. She’s supposed to be scoring, and so she tries. And misses by about two feet, with a glower. Turning as sharply as she can on her borrowed broom, Dee seeks another Quaffle. “Shouldnae left me bat on the ground,” she murmurs. Chasing is NOT her forte.

Clavicle Gravely snatches the quaffles and hurles it through the hoop! “There we are. ” he grins “Great Pass Saphia!” He grins as he flies back around to try and make a decent formation. He laughs to Dee. “Nice try! you should have seen me last year…I blew up a school broom!”

After having caught the Quaffle, David quickly flies back up to the same level as the other players. “Saphia! Try scoring this one!” he yells, as he lobs the ball towards her.

Kara Raine ducked Riley’s incoming bludger, missing her partner’s quaffle toss. With a curse that she really shouldn’t know muttered under her breath, the girl banks, diving down and only just managing to retrieve her missed quaffle. Turning back, she dodges right to miss another bludger, passes the ball toward her partner with a yell, and pours on the speed. Heading straight for the posts, she glances over, catches the ball as it is once again tossed in her direction, and heads for the goals. Feigning to the right, the keeper darts in that direction, before Kara rolls and twists back to the left, the quaffle sailing through the center hoop. Letting loose a cheer, she dives down and heads back toward her teams end of the pitch.

Flying as though he were born on a broom, Riley dashes from place to place with a deftness that comes only from natural talent combined with practice. Though he’s hardly as good as the Ravenclaw seek, his potential for trick- and speed-flying is outrageous. He can get in front of that bludger and knock it away from his teammates like nobody’s business. His aim, though.. twice, he sends bludgers sailing dangerously close to David and Clavicle, and once, he even manages to knock the quaffle out of the hands of a chaser and in to the hands of a keeper midpass. Something will need to be done about that.

Saphia Bona eeps as the quaffle comes to her and ducks, leaving the quaffle flying to earth. She really needs to work on her reaction time.

Dolly Faeden seems to realize there are other people when Clavicle calls to her, and she offers a quick smile, and then decides this buisness with the quaffle is ridiculous. She heads toward the ground and retrieves a bat without dismounting, although this does tip her rather sideways. Righting, Dee comes back to the chaos of things and immediately sets about knocking the bludgers about. By the fourth one, it’s obvious from the constant adjusting of her grip that the first year is trying to figure out how to aim things a bit better. Still, with every CRACK! there’s “Sorray!” sure to follow.

Putting the whistle to her mouth finally, Noémie blows hard on it, causing the whistle to shriek. “Alright, all in!” she calls and waves her arms, directing everyone to take to the ground again. While there hasn’t been that much time to scrimmage, Noémie feels as if she’s seen enough to start making her decision. “Alright, great trials, everyone,” She tells the crowd as she touches ground and debrooms. “I’ll get the roster posted in the commons very soon, and practices begin next week. Anyone who doesn’t make the squad is very welcome to play on the Junior Squad to get some practice for next year.” Noémie nods and smiles at everyone. “If you would all just put the quaffles into a pile right over here, I would be much obliged.” She sets her broom down and starts working on securing bludgers into the boxes — a rather dangerous task, indeed!

Riley Markham hops off his broom before it’s fully touched down, letting it drop lazily to the ground with the cassual indifferance of a boy who is hard on his toys And without being asked, he makis his wave over to help Noémie put the bludgers away. His brute strength was good for something, after all.

Another swerve to avoid a bludger, and Kara glances over to see who hit it, eyes wide as she spies Dolly. “Good hit Dolly! Just try and aim more for the other team okay?” Grinning, the girl zooms around her teams posts and ahd just grabbed up a quaffle when Noémie’s whistle sounds. Slowing down, Kara lands with a sigh and walks over to add her quaffle to the pile. “Brilliant! That was ever so much fun.” Kara returns the school broom to the shed before walking back over, seeing if she can assist in any way.

Saphia Bona sighs as she begins descending, pointing her wand at one of the bludgers and calls ‘Tendo!’ before guiding it gently down toward Noémie. She offers a grudging smile at that, at least. She used to be terrible at charms, too. Maybe she just needed time…

David lands his broom, swings it over his shoulder, then walks towards Noémie, offering his help to put the balls and bats away in their respective boxes. Cleaning up after a training is so often neglected by many players, but flying isn’t everything in Quidditch…

Dolly Faeden drops down rather too quickly and entirely vertically, and as she dismounts there’s a moment where the girl has very wobbly knees. “Thank ye for lettin’ me try out, Noémie,” says the first year as she passes the prefect on her way to the shed. Rather sweaty and pink-cheeked from the exertion, it takes a moment for Dee’s eyes to focus as being back on the ground.

“Thank you,” Noémie responds coolly as she finishes packing up all the things from the trials. “Just check for the list in a day or two,” she answers cheerfully to all who comment and stands up, putting her broom under her arm as she gathers both cases in each hand, resolving to return later for the quaffles. “Have a good afternoon, everyone,” She bids them as she goes to directly to the broom shed to return all the equipment to its rightful place. It doesn’t take her long to tidy up the pitch, and soon it is almost as if the group of Ravenclaws were never there at all.