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Hufflepuff Head of House & Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor
Match One
Saturday, 27 October 1923
2:00 pm
The Quidditch Pitch
The wind had been picking up since breakfast, and by the time the stands began to fill, it had settled into a steady, cutting gust that ran the length of the pitch and back again. It snapped the team banners taut overhead, sent someone’s hat cartwheeling three rows down to a chorus of laughter, and needled straight through even the heaviest of cloaks.
Above, the sky had thickened into something dark and swollen, clouds stacking low and heavy in a way that made the whole pitch feel like it was holding its breath. It hadn’t broken yet, but it was going to; that was obvious to anyone who glanced up. Every few minutes a gust would drag the cloud cover lower still, threatening to spill, before pulling back at the last second like it was toying with them.
The grass underfoot had already gone dark and heavy with the damp creeping in ahead of it, and more than one student in the stands cast a wary glance skyward as they climbed to their seats, clearly running the math on how long they had before it let loose.
The threat of the clouds opening up above those in the stands did not stop them; Quidditch had been gone for a few terms, so it seemed all students and staff had decided to take a seat and watch the two teams battle it out on the pitch.
Down on the pitch, the two teams had gathered near the center circle, brooms in hand and breath fogging in the cold, the Basilisks and Acromantulas close enough to size each other up.
Striding out to meet them, whistle already looped around one gloved hand, was Professor Roisin Blackwood. The Hufflepuff Head of House had traded her usual classroom robes for something considerably more weatherproof, though the wind still made valiant efforts to undo her hair the moment she stepped clear of the tunnel. She paused halfway across the grass to wave cheerfully at her husband and daughter in the stands before her expression sharpened into something considerably more focused as she reached the center circle.
“Right,” she called, her voice already amplified with Sonorus. “I want a clean match today. That means no bludgers aimed at heads that aren’t already chasing a quaffle, no wandwork from the stands no matter how badly you think your team needs the help, and if I have to stop this game to remind anyone of that, you will not enjoy the conversation that follows.”
Low chuckles could be heard and she raised her brow when she spotted her husband among them.
Rose scanned the players on either side of the circle.
“Good luck, all of you,” she added, more quietly. “Try not to make me regret volunteering for this.”
She knelt down next to the box that had been set in the center of the circle before everyone arrived, and unstrapped the Bludgers. They immediately shot free and moved to opposite ends of the pitch. The Snitch came next, hovering just long enough between the two teams to catch the weak light before it too streaked off and vanished.
Roisin straightened as she stood, the Quaffle held tight in one hand. In one motion, she hurled it skyward and brought the whistle to her lips.
The sound cut through the wind like a knife through parchment, and the pitch erupted; boots left the grass as fourteen players kicked into the air together, the Basilisks peeling toward the eastern hoops, the Acromantulas toward the west, and Rose rising to meet the game somewhere above center pitch.
Round One
At the sound, the Quaffle rockets skyward. Both Bludgers are released and already veering unpredictably in the crosswind, giving both teams’ Beaters plenty to track from the outset. High above the fray, barely more than a flicker of gold against the grey, the Snitch darts once around the perimeter of the pitch before vanishing into the cloud cover, leaving both Seekers with a seemingly impossible task of finding and catching it.
The match has begun.
OOC: Let’s do this! Welcome to the very first match of KB Quidditch! For those who have been around since our beginning, you can expect this to run a lot like Spellcaster’s Society.
Some final notes:
You must bold your attempted action. When I update, I will roll your success or failure and include the result! Not sure what to write? Check the guide for ideas based on your position.
For a higher chance of succeeding, be sure to follow our 4x4 rule.
You must post at least three times in one match to pass.
Of course it was shaping up to be a terrible day to be flitting around in the air when Lovelace and Rey were on different teams. Sure, there were bound to have been times that they weren’t on the same team before, and there would be times in the future, too, but the fact that they were playing against each other in Quidditch felt worse. Putting aside her wish to be able to celebrate with her sister as she shook out her limbs, Lovelace just hoped her sister wouldn’t try to go easy on her. She pointed one of her feet, the one that seemed tighter, and stretched the leg out slightly, leaning forward to try to loosen it as she faced her team.
“Just gotta keep your eye on the snitch n’ get your hands on it, eh, Mohler?” she joked, hoping he wouldn’t end up picking daisies like one of her cousins did. He only had the most important job, assuming she, Brooks, and Serik weren’t able to score enough to dig their team out of whatever hole Edwin could get them into. She pulled her shoulders back and was relieved when satisfying cracks rolled through, letting her pull even further back, “We got this,” she assured the rest of the team with the confidence she had in the other players, doing her best to meet Brooks’s eyes, “I’m happy to pass whenever you’re in better positions.” she continued, trying to meet Serik’s eyes halfway through, “You lot know much better’n me, so if I’m bein’ a drongo, tell me.” She looked at Benji and Ruth, “I dunno how to support you two, tell’ya to hit real hard?” she asked with a small grin, then raised her eyebrows at Robert, “An’ for you, keep in front’a the hoops n’ keep any balls out, I guess?”
As the professor said her bit before the game, Lovelace turned her attention to the Acromantulas, trying to get a feel for the other players. Obviously she knew Reyna would play her heart out, and would probably make some really shrewd calls that Lovelace wouldn’t have even thought of, but she wasn’t sure about the rest of the team. She didn’t think the only other first year would be much of a problem for her, though she did tend to have trouble believing boys could compete with girls in any way. That was probably why she couldn’t be sure about the other two opposing chasers, or the keeper. She figured Tulip would absolutely clobber her the first chance she got, and the same with Reyna. She also had much more confidence in Maevie as a seeker than her own team’s seeker, though she’d be more than happy to be wrong there.
Lovelace’s attention shifted as the professor approached the box with all the objects they’d be playing with. She kept her head so the quaffle was in the center of her vision even as her eyes followed a bludger to the end of her vision, followed by the snitch. Then, her ball—and five others’, of course—was in hand and Lovelace was fighting the urge to lean toward it, instead focusing on readying her broom. She flinched slightly when it was thrown up, suddenly understanding how dogs must feel as her head and eyes tracked it. The second she heard the whistle, she was shooting up toward the Quaffle as fast as the broom could go, which was far from the pace of her head.
Entirely forgetting about strategy and positioning and perhaps sitting back for one of the more knowledgeable chasers on her team to go for the Quaffle, Lovelace was possessed by the need to keep it out of the hands of the Acromantulas. Unaware of her sudden tunnel vision, Lovelace pivoted as she thought was needed to get near enough to the Quaffle then reached for it, preparing to grab and tuck it to her body and dart off toward the opposing goal, blissfully unaware of whether anyone else had already reached it.
It was about bloody time was Tulips opinion on Quidditch being back. It was in her opion decent weather conditions, if you couldn't stay on your broom in this weather you should probabily be in the stands. She was surprised Poppy hadn't signed up. Actually it was probabily a good thing, no one needed that feral goblin in the air. Quidditch had been gone so long they couldn't even scrape together house teams, it was mixed teams which was a bit odd but Tulip didn't care she was just happy to be in the air with a bat in her hand.
She listened to the refs brief "Yawn...can we go yet?" She called from the Acromantulas side of the pitch. She was egar to get up and flying, she ignored the comment about not hitting Bludgers at people's heads, seriously where was the fun. "You volunteered Professor..... you got done" she called. Tulip was even less lady like when she played Quidditch.
Her team was interesting, her batting partner was someone from Hufflepuff, it figured that head boy and girl would be put together. Tulip looked over at Reyna, "Go for their chasers first, when their beaters wake up we might have to look at defensive plays but till then let's have some fun." She said giving some tactics.
She spotted the first bludger She attempted to hit Bludger 1 at Basilisk Chaser Lovelace She looked over at Morgan Barlowe, "Get the Quaffle" she yelled.
Rae didn't mind the weather one bit. In fact, the wind and clouds hardly registered to the girl who was ready to start knocking bodies out of the sky after having been made to go so long without. Couldn't murder anyone in duelling. Couldn't murder anyone in Quidditch. What remained was a club that tried to kill them every other drill, a librarian who liked to draw them into forbidden magic and her beautiful hospital wing where no one, for any reason, was allowed to hurt anyone. It was hardly conducive to her tempers.
Add the stress of NEWTs and the pressure to be damn near perfect for her Collegium acceptance, and you had a Slytherin wound up so tight she was in danger of cracking the bludgers open.
It was fair to say she'd done enough homework, studying and patrols to earn this release.
"Rotten luck pairing us together," Rae said to her boyfriend as they followed the rest of the team out onto the grass. "Been a while since I hit you on purpose." Because Ruth Anaya was, slow as it happened to be, learning to keep her hands to herself. Quidditch remained the last bastion of hope for the aggression she sometimes affectionately held for the Hufflepuff. "Much as I could take the other team alone, try not to die, yeah? We also wanna be keeping that pretty face of yours pretty."
She listened to hardly a word the professor said, not inclined toward a clean game after having to mind her manners all week.
The sport had never been made for the weak.
"I dunno how to support you two, tell’ya to hit real hard?”
Dark mahogany eyes fell to the team's designated pep talker, a slow smirk forming as her gaze lifted back to Benji's. "Not necessary." Neither needed support in matters of violence, and she certainly didn't need to be told to hit harder.
"You just focus on the game, and we'll focus on making sure the bludgers don't rearrange your anatomy."
That seemed a fair enough trade.
When the game began, Rae gave a single swing of her bat to loosen the joint of her arm before mounting up and heading into the sky.
Spotting the bludger nearest her, the girl took a sharp turn to spin herself around, positioning herself in line of sight of poor Conor. "Oi! Conor! Catch!" she called, swinging as the bludger drew near and attempting to send it in Dawn's direction instead.
Couldn't very well give away the actual game. Better to keep them on their toes.
"Rotten luck for the other team you mean," he grinned, his arms draped backwards over his head, bat in hand as he stretched. Benji and Rae had always been a volatile pair on the pitch. In the fortunate times when they'd been placed on the same team the two of them ruled the pitch with a tenacity that was unmatched. They fed off one another, competitive and willing to show one another up.
Playing opposite teams, it was even worse, but Benji loved chasing her all over the field, knocking all of her bludgers off-path. Lucky for Rae, he'd work with her today, as much as he could without peacocking.
It had been too long since he'd played a real game. Practices and drills were fine and well, but nothing matched the feeling of a game. The adrenaline, the sweat, the speed and crack of wood against iron. It did something to the boy that he never achieved anywhere else.
"Much as I could take the other team alone, try not to die, yeah? We also wanna be keeping that pretty face of yours pretty."
"Don't have to worry about me love." His grin spread wider as he leaned over, dropping a kiss on her temple. "A face like this never could be anything but pretty." Benji Laurence's ego certainly knew no limits and wasn't about to start now. Resting his bat on his shoulder he stared across the pitch at the opposite team, sizing up Tulip and Reyna with a smirk. He tilted his head slightly when Tulip went on with her normal snarky shit.
"Run that mouth while you can, Asquith," Benji called out. "You won't be yapping once I get up there."
"I dunno how to support you two, tell’ya to hit real hard?”
"Don't worry." The boy winked and gave Lovelace an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "We plan to."
At the sound of the whistle, he was off, soaring in the opposite direction of Rae, his eyes on the second bludger. With his girlfriend after the first, his job was the second. Tulip's call for Morgan was all the motivation he needed. He narrowed in on the bludger, positioning himself in front of it as it spun erratically. He swung his arm back, waiting for the perfect moment before attempting to hit the second bludger at Morgan.
His step-sister would have to decide which ball was more important.
The wind ripped at her hair, rushed in her ears, and tugged on her clothes, but Maevie barely noticed. She was too excited. Too giddy.
Finally. A real taste of the sport she had only ever heard and read about. The moving pictures and the magazine reports were nice, sure, and racing up and down the abandoned pitch with her friends was fun too. But nothing could have prepared her for the rush of walking out here as part of a team, as their Seeker. With their brooms in hand, the roiling clouds above, and the shouting, cheering crowd all around, even louder than the howling wind.
Maevie thought she might keel over right there, among her teammates, facing the opposing team.
What a debut that would be.
It wasn’t all just excitement. Her nerves fluttered like a flock of startled birds, too. One that didn’t seem able to calm the hell down. It was her first game. And she was the Acrumantulas’ Seeker—the most important position, as she had been told more than once. Her eyes flicked to Mohler for a split-second.
What if she was an utterly colossal failure? What if Mohler was a hundred times better and faster and more agile; what if she couldn’t find this tiny, little ball; what if she crashed; what if she—
“Right.”
Professor Blackwood’s amplified voice ripped Maevie from her spiralling thoughts, and her gaze snapped away from the Basilisks’ Seeker. She swallowed and, with a shake of her head, rattled her worries from the forefront of her mind back to the outskirts of her brain, the grip on her broom tightening. She looked at Reyna and Tulip, grinning. “Don’t let them kill us,” she called over the wind, and a second later, the Quaffle flew high into the air.
The whistle sounded, and everyone went off.
Maevie rose high and fast, cold wind nipping at her skin, until she hovered a good few feet above the rest of the game. The Quaffle was in immediate motion, Bludgers cracked through the air, and Maevie resisted the urge to watch it all unfold. Instead, she let her eyes scan the skies, the stands, the pitch below. Searching.
Drifting slowly, she began encircling the stadium, hoping for a glimpse of gold.
The whistle had barely finished cutting through the wind before Morgan’s feet left the grass.
She’d been waiting for this. Three terms of no Quidditch, three terms of watching the pitch sit empty while everything else at Hogwarts carried on. She wasn’t wasting a single second of this game. Her broom knew what to do before she did, angling up and east the moment she kicked off, and the cold hit her face like a wall and she didn’t care even slightly.
She had spotted Rook before the whistle. It was hard not too, he was tall even on a broom. They had made eye contact across the center circle and she’d given him exactly the look she’d intended to: the one that said ‘I hope you’re ready’ and meant it entirely as a threat.
He grinned, which sent her heart into a brief frenzy before she focused on the task at hand.
They’d been training together since term began and Quidditch was announced; early mornings when the pitch was empty and the fog still sat low on the grass. She had learned, by the end of the first session with him, that she was much quicker on a broom than he was. It didn’t even bother her much that he’d proven to have a much better throwing arm than her (a fact that made her love his hugs even more, if she were honest), because she just constantly teased him for moving as slow as molasses.
She mentioned this frequently and with great enthusiasm.
She had only one thing on her mind: getting to the Quaffle. And if she had to ram her shoulder into her boyfriend to do it, so be it.
The Quaffle arced upward against the dark clouds, turning slowly end over end. Morgan tracked it immediately, reading its trajectory, the way that she’d been reading the air since first year when she’d been flung at a ceiling and decided that the only respectable response was to get better at flying on her own terms. She was already moving before some of the players – Conor at least – had fully oriented themselves.
Morgan reached out, when she thought she might be within grabbing distance, and attempted to grab the Quaffle.
Walking onto the pitch felt different. Quidditch itself was familiar, Brooks had spent years in the air at Ilvermorny, trying both Beater and Chaser before finding he liked chasing the Quaffle. Fortunately for him, that was where Professor Blackwood had placed him today.
The crowd was loud, but he loved it. The clouds in the sky building, the wind sending gusts, fall was definitely here. HIs eyes caught Mysty’s across the field, a smile curving his lips up. The look she gave him said everything. There would be no playing it easy on each other. All was fair in love and sport…
He wouldn’t be worrying about the L word he just conjured in his brain… nope…
Professor Blackwood went over the rules, blew her whistle and they were in the air. Thank Merlin.
The wind was cold, sharp and eager to move him around the sky like a chess piece. He loved it. Years flying the skies of New England taught him to fly with the wind, fighting it would only waste energy.
Brooks adjusted his grip on his broom, watching the game begin to unfold. The bludgers were already flying erratic paths through the sky, while somewhere above them all the snitch vanished into the clouds. The seekers had an impossible task.
The Quaffle, though… That was what mattered.
Brooks' broom surged forward. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lovelace launching after the Quaffle with zero hesitation. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. She certainly wasn't lacking confidence.
Good.
Someone had to be first to the ball.
Brooks caught sight of Morgan streaking toward the Quaffle from the opposite side of the pitch.
Of course she was.
A laugh nearly escaped. She'd spent the better part of practice reminding him she could outfly him in a straight line. She wasn't entirely wrong either. If this became a race, he knew exactly how determined she'd be to win it.
Not that he'd make it easy.
No.
Three Chasers converging on one ball left nobody to receive it afterward.
Instead, Brooks flew wide, sweeping around the outside of the brewing fight. His eyes never left the Quaffle, but neither did they leave Morgan or Lovelace. Possession would change in an instant. Whoever came away with it would have very little time before the Beaters turned the sky into chaos.
If Lovelace secured it, she'd need somewhere to throw.
If Morgan did, he'd need to be there to cut off her options. After weeks of practices together, he knew her habits almost as well as his own. He couldn't predict every move she'd make, but he knew where she would usually look if she had the quaffle.
Brooks banked around the developing fight, attempting to position himself in the most likely passing lane while staying ready to intercept the Quaffle if it broke free.
Reyna strutted onto the pitch, right on Maevie's tail. The two of them on the same team-- what golden luck! And with a Beater's bat clutched in Reyna's hands, she felt like she was on top of the world. They rose into the air-- "Oi, you focus on your job!" Reyna called back to Maevie-- and then they were off.
Reyna grinned to herself. This was it. Guts, glory, or nothing.
The wind cut through her hair, whipping a few strands loose from the ribbon she'd tied it back with. Flying never got old. The weightlessness, the need for thrilling, breakneck speed.
But there was also something else on Reyna's mind. Naturally, she craned her neck to find her little sister on the other side of the field. That part of the team assignments was... not such golden luck. Especially from all the way out there, Lovelace looked tiny, weaving around on her broom.
Equal parts pride and worry warred in Reyna's mind. She knew Lovelace was tough as nails, they both were, but what if.... She hesistated, hovering there.
The crack of Benji's bat rang through the air, and Reyna snapped back to reality. Right. Come on, Durand! Get your head in the game, why don't you? She was here to win. Or help her team win, rather. Everything else could come later.
Reyna sucked in a deep breath. The buzzing excitement and the deafening roar of the crowd came rushing back to her. Then she cackled loudly and sped forwards on her broom, bat held aloft.
"Announcing your move's a bit daft, hey?" She shouted, aiming to divert the tricky bludger away from Morgan.
Hufflepuff Head of House & Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor
Round One Results
The pitch is pure chaos within seconds of the whistle; fourteen brooms and a scramble of colliding priorities, all trying to make sense of a Quaffle that refuses to sit still.
The Scramble for the Quaffle Lovelace: 16 (fail) / Morgan: 14 (fail) / Team Roll: Acromantulas (16) / Dawn Evensen recovers Quaffle*
Lovelace and Morgan cut off each other's angle without meaning to, hands grasping at empty air as the Quaffle slips free between them, neither one able to get a clean grip before it's gone. Conor had been a half-second behind both of them, cursing under his breath as Dawn swoops in from the side and claims it clean, tucking it against her hip before either Chaser can recover their bearings.
Tulip’s Bludger Tulip: 2 (success) / Lovelace: 6 (dodge)**
True to her word, Tulip finds her mark almost immediately, sending the first Bludger screaming towards Lovelace with confidence that only comes from years of not caring whose head is in the way. Lovelace catches sight of it just in time and manages to dodge clear, the Bludger missing her by a narrow margin.
Benji’s Bludger Benji: 11 (success) / Reyna: 6 (intercept, success)
Benji’s hit is true, arcing straight for Morgan’s shoulder with the precision of someone who clearly knows how she flies. But Reyna’s already moving, calling him out for warning his sister, then knocking it wide and sending it spinning harmlessly past her teammate.
Ruth’s Bludger Ruth: 17 (fail)
Ruth’s hit at Dawn goes wide, the Bludger sailing past close enough to ruffle her hair but nowhere near close enough to matter. Dawn barely registers it, already turning her attention to where she wants to send the Quaffle next.
Elsewhere on the Pitch
Robert has already started talking, needling the Acromantulas Chasers from his post at the Basilisks’ hoops despite having nothing yet to actually defend. Elowen mirrors him at the opposite end, silent and watchful, tracking Dawn’s position like she’s already three moves ahead. Above it all, Edwin drifts without much urgency, in no particular hurry to start actually looking for the Snitch. Maevie continues her slow circuit of the stadium, no glimpse of gold yet; the Snitch is staying wherever it disappeared to.
Round Two
Dawn has the Quaffle and a clear look at the Basilisks’ hoops. Morgan comes out of the opening scramble unscathed, thanks to Reyna’s block, and now has a teammate with possession of the Quaffle. Lovelace comes out of her dodge clean and in position to try to chase Dawn down. Tulip and Ruth need new targets, having spent their first swings. Benji’s hit got read and blocked before it landed. Brooks’ earlier positioning is now more about defense than offense, with the Quaffle in Acromantulas’ hands. And high above it all, Maevie catches the briefest flicker of gold threading through the scaffolding beneath the western stands – there and gone in an instant, but enough to give her something to chase.
OOC: Rules will be created while going through this match since it’s the first one! Here are the first two:
*Since both played Chasers failed to get the Quaffle, I rolled for the teams, and then for who got possession: Roll 1: which team recovers it: 16, on a 1–10 Basilisks / 11–20 Acromantulas split → Acromantulas succeed Roll 2: which NPC gets it: 10, on an odds-Conor / evens-Dawn split → even, so Dawn gets possession
Since Basilisks only have one NPC, if the Basilisks had won the team roll, then Serik would have automatically had possession.
**When a Beater's hit succeeds, we will roll once more on the same scale to see whether the target dodges or gets hit, rather than a successful hit being an automatic connect; gives everyone a fair shot at avoiding it, same as any other action. Lovelace rolled a 6, which is a clean dodge.
I will update again at about this time on 19 September.
Everything happened too quickly for Lovelace while her eyes were locked onto the Quaffle. She was hardly about to stop when she realized the movement that was a broom in her peripheral was, in fact, going to collide with her at some point. As someone that no one even in her family was willing to play chicken with, Lovelace plowed ahead as best she could, and when her fingers curled around air, then proceeded to clamp down onto her own skin, she growled. She turned her head to look at who she very much considered to have been the one that kept her from having a piece of the action right now. Seeing a fellow housemate wasn’t surprising, considering how many Gryffindors were in the game, but was still incredibly frustrating because she had liked Morgan from what she’d seen of her and didn’t want to be mean to the girl. Lovelace let out a growled, “Morgan!” between clenched teeth as she smacked her broom—and as the broom dipped, she saw it.
No time to think, Lovelace flinched back and to the side from the bludger like she would’ve if she had been standing, playing dodgeball, and since she was clutching her broom, it luckily came with her. She went rocketing backwards, upside down. Her whole body clenched as she felt the air from the bludger whizz by her, but once she realized she wasn’t going to be hit, she started to relax. That was when her eyes started focusing on other things and she noticed Edwin looking like he had all the time in the world. She gripped the broom tighter with one arm as she cupped her mouth with one hand and screamed out some frustration on him, “EDWIN RUDDY MOHLER, IF YOU DON’T START LOOKING FOR THE BLOOMIN’ SNITCH, I’LL SEND A BLUDGER YOUR WAY!”
At least Mohler also seemed to be failing, and willingly in a much more catastrophic way, she reminded herself. Plus, she’d actually gotten to yell at someone! She was very used to being the one getting told off, so it tended to be a treat for her. Feeling slightly better about her failure of a Quidditch career, Lovelace tilted her head so she could look forward. That was disorienting initially, but as soon as she remembered she was upside-down, she could start making more sense of the rapidly-moving view. She flicked to the side to do her best second-half of a barrel roll to right herself, still pressing her broom to go as fast as it physically could as her eyes searched for the Quaffle again.
It only took a few moments for Lovelace to spot the ball in Dawn Evensen’s hands. She also spotted Brooks, though she was having difficulty figuring which of them was in the best position to get the Quaffle from the opposing chaser. After a few more moments closing in as best as she could, she decided it couldn’t hurt to have two of them going after Dawn, and if Brooks didn’t try to get the Quaffle, at least she was doing her best to. So, Lovelace adjusted the angle of her broom to best catch up to Dawn to try to steal the Quaffle. At the very least, she hoped to get the Quaffle out of Dawn’s hands by any (legal) means necessary; she would be happy for Brooks to get it. The tunnel vision resumed as she started to consider that, of all the chasers headed for the Quaffle, Dawn, with those nails, had been the one to take possession successfully. Between the hair and nails, Lovelace had been so reminded of her mother’s side that it was incredibly possible that she had underestimated the other chaser, which she would be trying not to do again.
Keeping her eyes off the commotion below proved harder than expected. Out of the corner of her eye, Maevie could see the Quaffle twirling through the air, spinning and spinning, drawing her attention despite her best efforts. She watched for a moment, breath caught in her chest, as Morgan and Lovelace fought for possession.
Neither managed to claim it. The Quaffle slipped between them, only to be snatched out of the air by Dawn.
Maevie whooped. “Go, Dawn!”
Luckily, none of the Bludgers had found their mark. Even during practices, those had worried her most. Watching them in action now was even scarier, but Maevie tried not to think about it too much—about how badly it must hurt to take one to the ribs.
She shook the thought from her head before it could fester.
The Snitch. That was what she was here for.
A glance toward Mohler was enough to reassure her that he hadn’t spotted it yet. In fact, he looked more as though he wasn’t searching at all. Maevie frowned faintly, but decided that probably worked in her favour, right? She turned her attention back to the task at hand, continuing her slow drift above the stadium as her eyes searched the pitch.
After a moment, something caught her eye.
Just a brief flicker of gold, down by the stands, there and gone within the same breath. Maevie’s heart leapt. Had that been it?
She dove. Only as quickly as she dared. She didn’t want to draw Mohler’s attention, so instead she casually descended toward the scaffolding on the far side of the pitch, as though she’d merely decided to search somewhere else.
Her pulse hammered in her ears, her fingers tightening their grip around the broom handle, but she kept her face as neutral as she could manage. The rest of the match quickly faded into the background as she slipped past the western stands and their zigzagging beams, searching desperately for another flash of gold.
The Quaffle slipped through her fingers and she felt it go before she fully registered what had happened; it’d been so close and yet she was empty handed, left with the disappointment that comes along with that. The only good thing is that Dawn had come and gone, Quaffle tucked against her hip like it had always been there.
Morgan pulled up hard, reorienting herself. No need to dwell on it. Her team had possession, that’s all that mattered.
"Heads up Barlowe!"
“Benji…” she muttered with gritted teeth. She heard him before she heard the Bludger, his voice carrying over the wind with the warning tone she’d heard countless times before from him. The Bludger was already screaming toward her shoulder by the time she registered it, and she braced –
The next sound that she heard was that of a bat hitting the ball away from her. Reyna was faster. The block sent it spinning wide and harmless (to her anyways), and she exhaled sharply, shooting her teammate a look of pure gratitude before her eyes found Benji across the path.
She pointed at him. Just once. A promise.
He’d aimed for her on purpose, to distract her from the Quaffle. She’d deal with him later.
Right now, Dawn had the Quaffle and the Basilisks were pulling back toward their hoops, which meant Brooks was repositioning, which meant Morgan knew exactly where he was going.
She’d paid attention during all of their early morning practice sessions, and she knew every move he made before he made it.
Morgan pushed hard off her current line and cut directly across Rook’s path, making herself as inconvenient as possible.
Her eyes landed on his and she smirked. “Miss me?” she asked, and then turned to watch Lovelace attempt to get the Quaffle from Dawn. “Dawn, hold tight!” she yelled.
The usual trash talk had started, Tulip missed that. Trash talking anywhere except the Quidditch pitch usually led to detentions. Benji already started. "Get bent Lawrence, you going to get your mummy up here too help you, get her to hold the bat for you?" She calls back at the Hufflepuff. She would try to avoid trash talking the lower years unless they started it.
The sound of bludger on bat was wonderful and it was a clean hit except the chaser ducked and it went wide next time she'd get him. She watched Benji hit a bludger at Morgan and then Reynar intercept it. "Nice!" Tulip called to her. That was absolutely text book, "Same again" she cashed back over looking for a bludger to chase.
She broke off from the others looking for a bludger, spotting the one Reynar intercepted she chased it down taking her deep into the Basilisks end she took her bat and hit the bludger at the Basilisks Keeper. Hoping to deal with the keeper giving their chasers a chance to get some easy goals in.
"Get that quaffle up here!" She calls to her team. However if the opposition kept targeting their chasers they might need a guard. She was keeping her options open, especially as it's too early to break the seeker.
Brooks had barely finished adjusting his line when the Quaffle slipped free. Neither Morgan nor Lovelace came away with it.
Damn!
Dawn.
Brooks exhaled through his nose as the Acromantulas Chaser tucked the Quaffle beneath her arm and took off toward the Basilisks' end of the pitch. So much for that idea.
It didn't matter. Quidditch changed too quickly to be angry about one play.
Lovelace was already closing the distance behind Dawn. Pressuring Dawn to make a decision was a great strategy. Brooks had learned that forcing someone into a rushed pass was sometimes better than trying to wrestle the Quaffle with brute force.
His eyes flicked once toward Morgan.
She wouldn't stay still. She never did. In fact, she was on the move. “Miss me?”
Brooks barked out a laugh as Morgan slid neatly across his line. "You wish!"
She knew exactly where he was headed. They'd spent weeks practicing together, and if there was anyone on the pitch who could predict his next move, it was Morgan.
Fine.
He'd go somewhere else.
Instead of forcing his way through, Brooks dropped beneath her, then made a tight curve back toward center, using the change in angle to make her choose between chasing him or protecting Dawn.
Brooks attempted to lose Morgan with the quick change in direction and break into open space near Dawn.
Missed. By a smidgen of a hair. Benji winked at Morgan as she pointed at him, "I'm holding you to it Sneaks!" Reyna was proving herself to be a bit of a nuisance in his game. Fair enough, he could handle her.
"Get bent Lawrence, you going to get your mummy up here too help you, get her to hold the bat for you?"
"Never needed my mummy for Quidditch, little flower," Benji grinned as he zipped past Tulip, "But if you miss her that much, I'm sure she'll be happy to ride on your broom with you." Tulip had always been easy to set off. Her permanent personality was a temper with a non-existent fuse. It worked well for her in Quid. A thorn in Benji's side, certainly, but it worked well for her. Maybe her parents should have named her 'Flytrap' for how often her mouth was wide open, yapping.
Swinging his bat lazily, the boy was off again, scouring the pitch for the various bludgers and where they were headed. A crack caught his attention, noticing it was heading for their keeper. Rae could save Goldburg if she felt inclined to. Benji had figuratively bigger fish to fry. Smaller, but bigger in role.
Rae could save their keeper if she felt inclined to.
Maevie. Sweet little Marge. It was her first year. Her first game. He'd taught her how to ride a broom and now he supposed he'd teach her how to dodge a bludger.
With a hard swing of his arm, Benji whistled as a heads up, attempting to slam the second bludger at Maevie.
The rotten luck wasn’t confined to the team comps. Rae watched her bludger get as close as the tips of the girl’s hair before the opposing team’s chasers twisted into the path of the quaffle. First year….even into her second year, that might have been enough to set the blood inside her veins boiling. Whether on the duelling block or up in the sky, it was no secret that Ruth Anaya was competitive. Time and being forced to pursue other past times had, in some ways, tempered her.
Sort of.
It wasn’t enough to have her grinning and praising the other girl’s evasion—she wasn’t a Hufflepuff—but it was enough to keep her from losing her head. No, there was still a whole game to be played and if Benji’s bludger hadn’t crippled anyone either, then there was still work to be done.
For a brief moment her eyes followed the movement of the quaffle as it was carried down the pitch. That was when she spotted the bludger Tulip sent right at their keeper. Couldn’t very well have that now, could they?
Rae sped after it, barreling her way through the swirl of chasers to get ahead of what might have otherwise been a painful crack for their keeper.
Edging just ahead, the Slytherin found herself in another sharp turn. In a matter of seconds, she scanned the pitch, looking for a better target for the ruddy bludger than her own teammate. A second. A second and a half tops. Any longer and the bludger would be on its merry way. She swung as hard as before, more interesting in diversion than an outright hit even as she attempted to send the bludger toward Dawn a second time.
The first was for sport. This was in the hope she could drop the quaffle and have Lovelace swoop in.
Rae thought to warn the first year who was technically close enough to be within range but decided against it. Why have Dawn know she’d once again been hunted?
Close call! Reyna grinned from ear to ear and shot Morgan a happy salute as she whizzed by. The feeling of the screeching bludger ricocheting against her bat— iron against wood— had been absolutely thrilling. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Lovelace dodging her own attack, and Reyna’s heart sung fierce with pride.
They were in the thick of it now, all right!
A sharp whistle had Reyna’s ears peeking up, doglike. Seemed she would get a chance to experience that amazing feeling again soon. She gripped her broom handle and put her agility to good use, making like a bullet towards the bludger.
“Back and forth is cute,” Reyna said aloud, “Good thing I’m so friendly!”
She shot in front of Maevie and swung her bat with all her might. With any luck, this next hit would fly towards that Garren bloke, and give poor Dawn a bit more breathing room.
Hufflepuff Head of House & Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor
Round Two Results
The Quaffle changes hands, and a Bludger finds its mark!
Lovelace’s Steal* Lovelace: 10 (success)
Closing the gap on Dawn before she can get any real distance, Lovelace manages to wrench the Quaffle free.
Tulip’s Bludger Tulip: 3 (success) / Ruth: 3 (intercept, success) / Dawn: 15 (hit)
Tulip’s hit is dead-on, the Bludger screaming towards Robert with real intent behind it. Ruth is already cutting across its path, her bat connecting hard enough to send it spinning wide of Robert entirely. It doesn’t disappear though. Redirected and still moving fast, it finds Dawn instead, catching her off guard in the same breath she loses the Quaffle to Lovelace. Not a great moment for her.
Benji’s Bludger Benji: 14 (fail)
Benji’s hit towards Maevie goes wide, too wide, sailing past without ever coming close enough to matter.
The Standoff Morgan: 17 (fail) / Brooks: 14 (fail)
Neither one manages to shake the other loose. Morgan can’t quite pin Brooks down, and he can’t quite break free of her. The two of them are locked in the same tangled dance they started the round with. No ground gained on either side.
Reyna’s Bludger Reyna: 14 (fail)
Reyna swings hard for Brooks, hoping to buy Dawn some breathing room, but the hit misses its mark.
Maevie’s Search** Maevie: 14 (fail)
The glimmer’s gone as quickly as it appeared. Maevie circles back toward where she thought she saw it, but the western stands give up nothing this time.
Elsewhere on the Pitch
Robert never even saw the danger he was in, still running his mouth at the Acromantulas Chasers, blissfully unaware how close Tulip’s Bludger came before Ruth intervened. Edwin is still nowhere near looking for the Snitch, despite Lovelace’s very vocal threats.
Round Three
Lovelace has the Quaffle now, with the Basilisks pushing toward the Acromantulas’ hoops, which means Elowen finally has something real to defend after a quiet start. Serik peels off from his usual freelancing to shadow Lovelace instead, apparently deciding on his own that guarding the Quaffle carrier is now his job, while Conor easily begins chasing them. Dawn, meanwhile, is shaking off both the steal and the hit, a rough round all around for her. Morgan and Brooks remain locked in their private duel, with neither having broken through yet. Maevie’s back to square one on the Snitch with no lead to chase for now. All four Beaters are free agents heading into Round Three, with neither Bludger currently committed to anyone’s plan.
OOC: A couple more notes on how this round resolved:
*Since Dawn is an NPC, Lovelace is free to write the steal however she sees fit.
**When a player has a specific lead to chase (like Maevie’s Snitch sighting) rather than just a general search, we’ll roll to see if they close the gap. This gives the +1 for this position a purpose.
I will update again at about this time on 21 September.
All Lovelace could see was the Quaffle and the hand holding it as she closed in on Dawn. She pressed her body flat to the broom like she’d learned to after trying different positions and timing herself, although she had to remind herself to ask her father for a stopwatch so she could actually be sure about that. Overeager and underexperienced, Lovelace started reaching for the Quaffle much sooner than actually made sense. This gave her plenty of time to consider what angle might best pop the ball free, although it was almost entirely unnecessary. Just as her fingers touched the Quaffle, the other chaser’s grip seemed to loosen. Lovelace didn’t have time to wonder why, finding her own grip before pulling the Quaffle to her.
The last thing Lovelace had actually been expecting to happen (the Quaffle moving with her hand rather than resisting it) happened, so it took Lovelace a few more seconds before it occurred to her to actually switch directions. As soon as it had, Lovelace turned as swiftly and nimbly as possible, clutching the Quaffle to her stomach as she flew as quickly as she could to the opposing goalposts. Her eyes searched furiously for anyone to pass to, hand rolling the Quaffle up her body slightly in anticipation of a quick pass. Instead, she thought she must’ve been behind Serik, which made sense, while Brooks was being guarded by Morgan. Passing didn’t seem to be an option, which felt unfortunate to the girl playing her first game.
Fortunately, Lovelace had ignored the concept of studying or delving deeper into her magical studies in favor of running drills for Quidditch, so she knew exactly what she should be doing in theory. Just as with any other sport she’d taken part in, she was coming to the realization that the actual practice of it was different to theory. So far, the reality tended to require much more thought and attention than theory or drills could’ve prepared her for. In her first few seconds of flying to the goal, entire focus again started to narrow to the goals and keeper. However, it didn’t take long for possession of the Quaffle to stir up an incredibly unfamiliar sense of dread and paranoia to Lovelace, which broadened her attention from just the next action she was planning. She was much more used to either passing or having a safer possession on the ground, with her feet, and couldn’t help feeling like a rapidly flying duck—one that was very shootable, although it wasn’t only sitting.
What if she dropped the Quaffle? At the thought, she carefully rolled it slightly down her body again then squeezed it closer to her. Next, she tilted her head to the sides, looking for opposing chasers that might be trying to steal the Quaffle from her. This was difficult because she was also doing her best not to let her head stick out too far. Dogs did that on carriages, and she’d even seen an incredibly spoiled bloodhound in a car doing the same. Both were much slower than a broom as far as Lovelace was concerned and, naturally, as a human that trusted animals much more than humans, of course Lovelace had also tried it. She had no idea how they could breathe, so could confidently say that the dogs were incorrect on this pastime; or, more accurately, that this pastime should not be enjoyed while trying to accomplish something as serious as winning a game.
