Callisto @ TDA strikes again!
I wake up on Thursday morning at about six a couple weeks later. We have a huge match against Slytherin coming up, and they’re our biggest competition this year. I think TJ’s taking his captain role way too seriously. But none the less, I go down to the Great Hall to get some early breakfast that’s set up especially for Gryffindor team’s early morning. I look up at the “sky” and sigh when I see that it’s raining today. Pity, guess I’ll be soaked at the end of practice.
As I’m taking off the wrap around my blueberry muffin, some of my other teammates come in, yawning and groaning. TJ follows after them, and yells. “Look alive! Up and at em’ Gryffies!”
“TJ, at least let us have a quiet breakfast please.” Lily asks, sitting down next to me and reaching for a cranberry muffin. Tim sits down next to TJ and reaches for the ‘Snitch Puffs’, pouring himself a bowl and adding the milk before digging in.
Some of our other teammates, sit down also and reach for their desired breakfast item.
“Okay, we have Lily, Lyra, Grayson, May, Joseph, Tim, and me. Great, everyone’s up.”
“Actually I’m dead, but thanks for including me.” May, a 4th year with pretty brown hair mutters, taking a sip of coffee. I laugh and TJ rolls his eyes.
“Thank you for the insight, Finnigan.” He says sarcastically.
“No problem,” she answers cheekily. “We all need a morning wake up call.
“Why don’t we all finish up breakfast, and then get onto that pitch.”
We all nod and hum and grunt noncommittally, and then go back to our breakfast.
“Wait, shouldn’t the spares practice, just incase someone gets hurt?” Grayson, a tall 5th year questions.
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Can someone please go wake up Sarah, Randy, David, and Will?”
“Yeah, which years?” Tim answers in his irish accent.
“4th for Sarah, 7th for Randy, 6th for David, and 6th for Will.”
“Got it.” Tim says, jumping up and jogging out of the hall. I watch as his hair moves wildly around his face and the muscles in his legs move.
My blueberry muffin is kind of stale, and doesn’t really even taste like blueberries, but I finish it anyway. I need as much food as I can get if I want to be nice and fast for quidditch. Basically half of my basis for eating. People always tell me they think I’d make a good beater, but that’s only because I’m strong. I don’t have the proper physic. Besides, Joseph and Grayson are awesome beaters.
I have few doubts about us doing awful, but there’s always that small chance we might loose. Currently the quidditch ranks at Hogwarts go like this:
1ST - Tied between Slytherin and Gryffindor.
3RD - Ravenclaw.
4TH - Hufflepuff.
This quidditch match will confirm the ranks, and hopefully we will be 1st. No hard feelings to Slytherin of course.
After breakfast, TJ runs all of us through drills, exercises and practice games five on four. After about an hour and a half of practice, TJ explains a game plan and positions for another hour. Strategy and theory as well as physical training and teamwork is important to him. Sometimes we have short but frequent practices, and sometimes we have longer practice with more time in between. With TJ, a practice or strategy can last anywhere from half an hour, to five hours.
When he’s done explaining our duties to all of us and what the plan is for Saturday’s game, we all say the team slogan (unoriginally it is, Veni, Vidi, Vici.), and he dismisses us to take the half an hour we have to go back to Gryffindor and get our books before Thursday classes start.
“Veni, Vidi, Vici. Veni, Vidi, Vici. Veni, Vidi, Vici.” The words swirl in my head as we chant them in a whisper. Honestly if it were my choice I’d toss that slogan out the window. Couldn’t we come up with something cooler? Like… I got nothing. But seriously, using something some muggle guy said centuries ago that happens to be in Latin does not make us cool. No matter what TJ says, that boy loves his ancient languages. Not even just ancient, he speaks like three fluent languages on top of Latin and Ancient Greek. I only speak English, and those three words of Latin. Pity.
The words swirl faster and faster and faster, they make me sick to my stomach. I can’t be sick, not right before first match of the year, and certainly not in a match against Slytherin.
“Let’s do this!” TJ shouts, grabbing his Firebolt 360 and running onto the pitch followed by us. I breath in and out as I jog, preparing and calming myself for the match. We are going to be just fine. If we do well, we might even win.
I mount my Stargazer 5 and push off into the air, gathering around in the circle of Gryffindors and Slytherins waiting for the ref to come onto the pitch. Madam Hooch retired last year, so now a new professor, Professor Hawkins referees and deals with quidditch and teaching the first years flying.
He does the usual pre-match speech, ‘I want a nice clean game’, that speech, and then we’ve turned into blurs of red and green. Lily passes me the quaffle, and I hand it over to TJ, who is quick to make a goal.
“Ten points for Gryffindor!” Jamie Jordan announces, making the Gryffindors, my friends, and my family go wild. Shortly after this the bludger comes my way. I dive down and it flies by, missing me by an inch. If I were a seeker I would probably listen to the commentaries on the game as I searched for the snitch, but chasing definitely calls the need for more physicality. The seeker does have to stay focused however.
Jamie Jordan says something else and the Gryffindors go wild again. TJ has scored another goal. All of a sudden, a bludger hits the back of his broom and he falls to the ground. A Slytherin takes the quaffle from a distracted Lily, who gasps in shock and stares at TJ’s wounded figure, before realizing she has to get back in the game. The crowd lets out a sigh of relief as TJ gets back on his broom and launches back into the game as if nothing happened. If he’d stayed passed out any longer I’m sure that Ben would have done something stupid.
He pushes aggressively against the Slytherin who currently has the quaffle until he releases it and TJ catches, tossing it to me. I make a goal and I can see Mum smiling and Dad giving me a proud thumbs up in the stands as I turn. I get in another goal, but on the third I take, I throw so hard that the Slytherin keeper gets the quaffle in the stomach, tumbles off his broom, and while falling to the ground gets hit in the head by a bludger. Not pretty. Of course the match continues as he is taken to the Hospital Wing, but I make a mental note to go see how he is as soon as the match is over. Finn Kari, I think his name is.
The match only finishes about half an hour after Finn’s fall to the death. I mean, already the quaffle and falling was bad, but on top of that he got hit by the bludger, in the head. Gryffindor won in all of its glory, and we give the remaining Slytherin team members handshakes and muttered ‘good game’s. We’ve gotten so much more civil in the past years.
I dismount my broom, clap my teammates on the back for our victory, and run to my parents.
“We’re so proud of you, kiddo.” My father tells me, wrapping his arms around me in a big hug.
“Dad,” I grit my teeth. “Don’t call me kiddo in front of my peers.” I growl.
“Alright, alright.” He laughs, letting me go and pushing my wind blown hair out of my face.
“Hey, Mum,” I say, nodding to my regal and quiet mother.
“Hello, dear. Your father is right, we are very proud of you.”
“Congratulations on your first big match of the year.”
“Thanks, listen I have to go check on someone in the Hospital wing. See you at Scorpius’s match.” I say, hugging them both and then running to the girls change room.
I strip down and take a quick hot shower. The water pours down on me, releasing tension in my muscles and soothing my aches and pains from all the sport today and in our past few practice sessions. After I quickly yank on my normal clothes and boots and throw all of my quidditch gear in the locker marked ‘Malfoy 04’, my last name and my player’s number.
While running to the Hospital Wing I pull on my favourite sweater, it’s warm and cozy, baby blue with dark grey pockets. It’s definitely colder in the castle today, as the last few days have been pretty rainy. We were lucky for good quidditch weather today though. Not too much wind, no rain, and no blinding sun. A nice cloudy sky with small patches of blue and no impending threat of rain.
I slide in to the wing and walk over slowly to Finn’s bed. He looks dead.
“He’s not dead,” Madam Pomfrey informs me, as if reading my mind. “Just unconscious. The poor lad will be back on the pitch in no time. Was almost dead for a moment there though, head traumas are one of the fastest killers if not treated in time.”
I mostly stopped paying attention after that, but she went on and on about the whole science behind it, and how it was all really because your brain controls everything. Then she talked about things like cerebral edema, and a bunch of other stuff I couldn’t understand.
Well, I was just glad that I hadn’t actually killed Finn Kari.
Author’s Note: Veni, Vedi, Vici - Latin for I came, I saw, I conquered.
Snitch Puffs is a knockoff of Corn Puffs.
I also want to apologize to everyone for this… A while ago I wrote a fic called ‘Don’t Mess With a Player’, it’s still on HPFF. I had a character in that fic named ‘Edmund’, and I guess it just kind of stuck on all my nerdy Ravenclaw male OCs, at least it stuck on Ben. I’m trying to find any and all Edmunds and change them to Bens, so please bear with me as I try and change that, and if I call Ben ‘Edmund’ again, just know that I’m talking about Ben. I hope that you aren’t too confused about that!
Edit: Apologizes for this, an entire paragraph hadn't been posted!
Edit Again: Okay, so apparently the chapter was pasted twice. It's fixed now! Sorry for any inconvenience.
Thank you so much for reading,
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