And he shoots, he scores? on Quidditch Pitch

Coach Grase

June 10, 2016 1:34 AM

Quidditch Game 1: Aladren vs. Crotalus by Coach Grase

The familiarity of the brisk morning air, combined with the nostalgic pang the comfortable atmosphere of the pitch cause, made the ache in Juliet’s right shoulder begin with much more vigor than previous mornings. She massaged it absentmindedly as the spectators for today’s match filed into the stands. Not a bad crowd for such a frigid morning, she mused internally. A smattering of students and faculty huddled in clumps like penguins to combat the chilly autumn breeze.

A sudden, particularly cold gust caught Juliet off guard, and the resulting shiver made her offending injury twinge a bit worse for a moment. She had decided today was as good as any to see if it was time to start laying off the pain medicine, and while the ache was definitely more noticeable without it, it was certainly better than she had been expecting. It definitely could be worse she thought, allowing herself to feel hopeful. I’ll be back to my old self , and back in the air, by the end of the term.

The chattering of the Aladren and Crotalus teams coming onto the field snapped her from her reprieve. Putting on her best greeting-the-fans voice, Juliet cast the Sonorus charm on herself and welcomed the athletes and spectators to the game, introducing the teams and their respective captains.

“You guys know how this works; keep it clean, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said as she turned back to the young athletes. “Now if the captains would please shake hands?” Trusting them to follow instructions, Juliet broke her gaze in favor of her pocket, rifling through it to find the whistle she had ignored until now.

When everyone was in position, she wished them all luck and tossed the Quaffle into the air, blowing the whistle in between her teeth. Next went up the Bludgers, which she released from their bindings with a disappointed sigh, followed by the tiny golden Snitch. Juliet then mounted her broom to join the kids in the air, where she still firmly believed she belonged.

Subthreads:

Kicking things off by Arianna Valenti, Chaser with Capt. Ali Johnson, Chaser, Captain Bennett, Beater, Daniel Fintoc, Chaser, Jack Spencer, Chaser

Welcome back, Crotalus by Clark Dill, Seeker

The changing of the guard by Theodore, Keeper with Makenzie Newell, Keeper

Back in Black...Well, Red actually by Shinohara, Seeker with John Umland, Beater, Clark Dill, Seeker, Arne Reinhardt, Beater, Coach Grase

0 Coach Grase Quidditch Game 1: Aladren vs. Crotalus 0 Coach Grase 1 5

Arianna Valenti, Chaser

June 10, 2016 3:30 AM

Kicking things off by Arianna Valenti, Chaser

Why?

She had known this day would come since she had walked on to tryouts, empirically. Still, dark eyes flashed open to stare at the ceiling, woken up that morning by a stomach full of knots. She could play sick. She could quit. She could say she got lost on the way to the Pitch, that one of the Magical Creatures from class had escaped their cage and she had masterfully battled it away.

But Aladren only had seven fliers, and no more. Were she to fail to appear, everyone would know that Arianna Giulia Valenti had been the cause of Aladren's failure. And that just wouldn't do at all. Moreover, other than her cousin, the Quidditch boys were the only people at this weird school that she interacted with regularly. Were she to quit, she would just be down to her cousin, most likely lecturing her on the importance of showing up for your team. And that just wouldn't do at all.

So she got up.

She showered, she put on her moisturizer and chapstick (whose dumb idea was it to make a school in Arizona freezing anyway? Just because you could magic didn't mean you should). She made a Dutch braid crown, and tied the rest of her dark curls into a ponytail with a blue ribbon, to keep the tendrils out of her face. It was a style the volleyball girls back home were no doubt wearing in the gym this fall. She missed them.

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, she flattened out her blue Aladren sweater so that it sat evenly, and adjusted her shin guards and arm guards before fidgeting around with her fingerless gloves. Manicured fingers stretched beneath them. She never felt quite right with all this equipment on. Last was the blue cape, and she deemed herself Quidditch ready.

Arianna skipped Cascade Hall of course, no sense in seeing the enemy before battle. She always kept some snacks and a water bottle with her, a habit formed from sharing a room with her little sister. Elisa was always hungry. Scarfing down a banana and some grapes before she left, the first year grabbed her blue water bottle, and was off.

It was important to get down early, because she would need to borrow a broom from the supply closet. It was not worth writing home to ask for a new one, that would just mean less money for clothes, and firsthand books, and things that mattered. Quidditch was just an outlet for her, a way to pass her time here at Sonora in a way that would look useful on a future college resume.

Still, she would not be stuck with some leftover broom, and she would not allow anyone to know she had no choice but to use it. Gabe had his top of the line racing broom, of course, but the first year couldn't see him parting with it, not even for her very first game. Besides, they would play each other eventually, and so sharing a broom was not a long term solution. Therefore, she made her way to the closet, chose a newer looking broom from the bunch, and considered herself fully prepared for the game.

By the time she joined the Aladren team, the knots in her stomach had been put on lockdown, replaced instead by a confident smile. Abby's mom always told the girls to fake it until they made it, and Arianna supposed this was one of those times.

Finishing her water bottle, Arianna paid careful attention to anything Captain Leonidas or any of her teammates might say. She reminded herself yet again that she refused to let the nerves get the best of her. She would not be just some helpless little girl in the air.

Things seemed to move at a whirlwind pace now, they were outside - so unnecessarily cold! - and the Coach was announcing things, and it was almost time to go. Kickoff was the worst, and the knots in her stomach pressed at the cage they ought to be locked away in as she threw her leg over the broom. She could do this. She had to do this. It would be permanently embarrassing if she failed to do this.

Three, two, one - away!

Sneakers kicked off the cold ground, pushing her into the gusts of frigid air. The cool, hard ground provided a quicker ascent than she was used to, she was going, going - the Quaffle!

It was only a few feet away! If she could claim first possession for Aladren, then everyone would know that she was just as important a Chaser as Louis or Jack. That she was more than just some first year, here to be a warm body in this cool, cool day.

The Quaffle was just out of reach, she wasn’t sure if she could get a good grip on it before one of the more experienced players got close, or a Bludger approached. Coming towards it from the left, her left hand still carefully gripped the broom as her right swung back behind her, knees slightly bent. Yes, she was new at being a witch, at flying, at Quidditch. But she remembered everything her coach at her old school had taught her.

Lining up with the ball, Arianna swung her hand back, right elbow back, at a ninety degree angle, before whipping her forearm forward, and slamming the ball with all her eleven (and-a-half) year-old might with the center of her hand.

The ball began to careen towards the Crotalus hoops, aided in part by a favorable gust of wind, although it also carried the ball further to the right then she had intended. Still, things were going in the right direction for Aladren. And she had played her part. If she was going to be a part of something, she was going to be successful at it, and nobody could call her a failure now. Grinning, she watched to see where the ball would go, forgetting momentarily that she ought to follow its path.

0 Arianna Valenti, Chaser Kicking things off 343 Arianna Valenti, Chaser 0 5

Capt. Ali Johnson, Chaser

June 10, 2016 2:15 PM

Stopping you right there. by Capt. Ali Johnson, Chaser

In some respects the first Quidditch match of the year had rolled around rather quickly but at the same time the weeks leading up to it had seemed to drag by. Alistair personally had been dying to get back into playing matches, going without any at all last term had been agony, but there was also a part of him that felt concerned that his amateur team were just not ready. Then again, he supposed it could be argued that the Crotalus Quidditch team would never be ready. Their skill level wasn’t as high as some of the other teams for sure, but Alistair had been pleasantly surprised by Makenzie’s abilities as Keeper and so far this term he’d put a lot of effort into developing the skills of all his players. If their work on technique still didn’t help them match up to Aladren, the Crotalus Captain did think his team could actually have the one up on fitness. He ran a strict training regime for the Crotalus Quidditch team, involving a range of different training methods and regular testing of a variety of key fitness components to ensure that they were making the desired improvements. Alistair had unfortunately been forced to make some of this optional because his teammates had other commitments but he thought that enough of it was compulsory to give them an advantage.

At their last team practise, the Crotalus Captain had reminded all of his players (mostly for the benefit of those who hadn’t yet played a match) to turn up promptly on the day so that they had plenty of time to warm up. He was particularly glad that he had done just this when he stepped outside on the morning of the first match, after a breakfast consisting of an omelette and a tropical fruit salad, and found that there was a rather chilly breeze. When his team showed up, Alistair ran through a substantial set of warm up drills with them (not needing to instruct as they were by now expected to understand what was required of them) and made sure to stress the particular importance of doing so in cold weather. He did not want his players flying about with cold, tight muscles at any point during the game. Not only would it make them more prone to injury, but also meant they wouldn’t perform as well - and Crotalus could afford neither of these things. They had no reserves for backup and were at a disadvantage when it came to experience. After all, the team’s Assistant Captain had only played one match before and that was only as a reserve, which really didn’t inspire confidence.

Despite all of these concerns, every inch of Alistair portrayed confidence today (not that he was ever prone to externally lacking it). To some degree he did have faith in his team and knew that they probably worked harder than he gave them credit for. He was aware he often pushed them rather hard in training, perhaps more than they’d sign up for but never more than appropriate for their level, yet at the end of the day he just wanted the same thing as they all did - success.

“Alright team, gather round!” Alistair called his players in close so he didn’t have to shout out his last minute advice and hopefully they would take initiative and huddle in close to preserve heat. “Today you all need to be thinking about keeping warm so I want everyone moving about as much as you can. I don’t want the cold weather affecting our game. You also need to be aware of the wind so keep this in mind, particularly Chasers when passing or shooting.” He focused particularly on Isaac and Daniel now as he ran through his advice for them. “We’ll be mainly wanting to be using short passes and you need to make sure you’re throwing hard and fast, and accurately. Don’t stray too far away from whoever has the Quaffle otherwise you’ll force them to throw long. Aladren have a new Chaser on their team, a first year muggleborn, so our Chasing team is already looking stronger.”

The fourth year now switched from directing his words to the Chasers and onto the Beaters. “Beaters, you have your work cut out for you but you’ve just got to keep your wits about you. Reinhardt, I want you marking the Seeker - she needs to stay fully focused on finding the Snitch so it’s your job to make sure she doesn’t need to worry about any bludgers coming her way. Évreux, you’ll be marking us Chasers so just remember everything from practice and think about where you’re sending those bludgers - the more hits you get in, the better.” Alistair had explained to Sébastien the way in which the Beaters usually worked at Sonora, with one marking the Seeker and the other marking the Chasers, and had made sure that both Arne and Sébastien practised both so that he could switch them around should it be necessary.

“Seeker,” the Crotalus looked to Shinohara now as he moved onto the individual positions in his team, glad he had the time to run through advice for everyone. He refused to allow himself to feel any sort of disheartening as he spoke to the older girl, knowing the competition was tough. “Dill’s got to miss the Snitch at some point, let’s just make that today - okay? Reinhardt, I want you firing as many bludgers at the Aladren Seeker as you possibly can.” Alistair tried to speak in a light tone, although not devoid of seriousness, simply because he was aware that he hadn’t been very supportive of Shinohara in the past and that now was not a time for negativity. Pep-talks were supposed to be as much about motivating the team as much as they were about last minute advice, the Captain had come to understand.

Alistair finally turned to Makenzie, one of the team’s most recent recruits. “Keeper, the Chasers should be keeping the Quaffle down at the other end of the pitch to you for most of the game but when it does come your way, just remember to keep calm and you’ll do great. The most important thing for you to consider is the weather.” He had already drilled this into the team as a whole but when it came to cold the Keeper was the highest concern, simply because they had much less flying to do that would keep them warm. “This weather can directly affect your body heat so if you allow yourself to get cold, you’ll find yourself with numb hands and slow coordination and this will make it much harder for you to save goals. I advise you just fly around a little bit when the Quaffle is down the Aladren end to stay warm. Do whatever so long as you just keep moving and don’t sit still but you must make sure that you remain facing the match - do not turn your back.” He gave her what he believed to be an encouraging smile before adding, “and just a head’s up, the Quaffle’s going to be harder today.” He hoped this wouldn’t affect Makenzie’s ability to catch it but knew that very often a cold, hard ball could lead to a decline in a Keeper’s performance as they tended to catch it differently because of this or were more inclined to bat it away.

“Everyone ready?” the question was mostly rhetorical but Alistair glanced around at the faces of his teammates nonetheless. “Good. Now let’s get up there and win this game!”

When instructed to do so by the new Quidditch Coach, Alistair strode forward to shake the hand of the Aladren Captain. He gave Leonidas Bennett his usual firm handshake and wordless nod, not unfriendly but neither smiling because he took his sport seriously and was now in the zone. He felt a stirring of pride within him, not an unfamiliar feeling it has to be said, largely due to the fact that this was actually the first match where he was wearing the red Quidditch robes of his own house and was finally Captain all by himself, without the irritating Liac Reinhardt trying to share his power.

The moment the whistle blew, Alistair shot up into the air. Reaction times were something he’d worked on improving in team practices so he hoped that, even if he didn’t reach the Quaffle first himself, one of his fellow Crotali would. Unfortunately for the team captain, he got a little caught up in the initial scrimmage of players fighting for first possession of the ball. When he managed to get out, quite possibly pushing off from another player, he was very surprised to find Aladren’s muggleborn first year taking the first touch of the Quaffle. Quite how this had happened, Alistair wasn’t sure, but there was no time to waste wondering what Aladren were feeding their players and whether or not it was legal. The little Aladren girl seemed to have more surprises up her sleeve as she smacked the scarlet ball and sent it flying through the air. It was a rather unorthodox method and one that Alistair hoped she wouldn’t continue to use throughout the whole game. It had worked out fairly well for her now and he liked to see uniqueness in players but he did not deem it very practical to use repeatedly today.

Carried slightly by the wind, the Quaffle headed closer to Ali than he had thought it would as he sped towards it, plucking it neatly out of the air with a cocky glance at the grinning first year. She didn’t think the game was that easy, did she? He flew sharply upwards to avoid an incoming bludger, apparently one of the Aladren Beaters had seen his intentions to intercept the first pass but they were just too late. The Crotalus Captain flew successfully back over the halfway line and into Aladren territory with the Quaffle tucked under his arm but, despite his speedy flying abilities, he had no choice but to rid himself of it soon after reaching this point of the pitch, sure that he had bludgers and enemy Chasers hot on his tail.

Alistair made a short pass to the nearest Crotalus Chaser, expecting them to stay close because they knew that the majority of their passes would be fairly short today to reduce the potential for the wind interfering. So far, so good, he thought as he powered on, although not too far so that he would be ready to receive another pass soon if the Quaffle recipient found themselves in need to relinquish the ball. He had a feeling this was going to be rather a tight and quick Chaser game, doubting that many players would be risking long passes which would be subject to inaccuracy.

8 Capt. Ali Johnson, Chaser Stopping you right there. 306 Capt. Ali Johnson, Chaser 0 5

Clark Dill, Seeker

June 11, 2016 4:10 PM

Welcome back, Crotalus by Clark Dill, Seeker

Clark was pretty excited about the match today. He had faced off against Uzume Shinohara before, but not when she was representing just Crotalus. Every house had a full team this year, which was pretty awesome and not something Clark had seen since he came to Sonora. His first year as a student had been marked by a distinct lack of teachers and therefore a lack of Quidditch, though each team had existed at the time. For his first year as a player, some families had left after the previous year's debacle, so he'd just been up against Pecari and only Pecari, and then as the other two houses rebuilt their teams together, Pecari and Teppalus.

In five years as Seeker, this was the first time, he was playing Crotalus. Clark liked doing new things, and hoped he'd get to go up against Jake Manger at some point, though Jake would have to beat Jamie for that to happen this year. Assuming Clark beat Uzume. He was really pretty much counting on that happening, and wasn't entirely sure how to think things might go if that failed to happen.

He supposed it was possible, of course, but Clark had won against Uzume twice before and saw little reason why that might change now. He was hardly the tiny thing Seekers were supposed to be in ideal Quidditch, but he was used to being tall now, and he was comfortable with his extra long broom and how it handled. He'd been practicing most mornings before breakfast to get back in shape after a summer off. Crotalus was fielding two new beaters, so he felt sure Leonidas and John could handle any bludgers flying around today. All in all, he felt in he was in a great place for continuing his winning streak.

He listened to Leonidas' pep talk and nodded along in Assistant Captain-ly support. As the captains shook hands, Clark readied himself to launch at the whistle, which came not terribly long after that. The new coach tweeted out the starting tone and Clark kicked off, rising quickly to cruising altitude.

Settling into his tried and true pattern of flying, he began his back and forth criss-crossing of the pitch, keeping his eyes sharp, watching for that flash of gold that would signal it was time to show the school once more that Clark Dill was the most experienced Seeker on the Pitch.

1 Clark Dill, Seeker Welcome back, Crotalus 277 Clark Dill, Seeker 0 5

Captain Bennett, Beater

June 12, 2016 10:56 PM

Returning the favor by Captain Bennett, Beater

On the day of the first match, Leonidas allowed himself to indulge in a little true optimism. Not only did they have a full team, but even their new girl seemed to be doing okay in practice. She wasn’t perfect, but while Leonidas had yet to see her in a game, he was confident that she was going to be less of a headache to keep in one piece than John had been the year he’d played Chaser, which was all Leonidas thought anyone could really ask of a first year.

Anyone, that was, except Alistair Johnson. Unless he was a very different person than Leonidas thought he was, he was going to ask a lot more than that of, among others, his first year, a kid Leo thought was a second year, and a girl Leonidas doubted had played Quidditch in at least five years. The question was just whether or not he could get it. Leonidas supposed it was possible they could all exceed expectations, but he still had the utmost confidence that his team could go through them like hammers through tissue paper. He expected the Chasers would be able to take care of themselves and each other, but even if Alistair and Isaac got in the way, the Crotali still had two major problems to deal with and they were called Leonidas and John. Arne Reinhardt had only been a reserve on Teppalus and the first year was…a first year. He did not expect either of them to present much of a challenge.

“Hello, everyone,” he said to his team. “I’ll keep this short. I expect we’re going to win, but I also expect everyone to play as though you were against the toughest opponents you’ve ever had. Remember that their Seeker and two of their Chasers were on the Teppalus team – which, yes, means this should be easy for you, Clark. Deal with Miss Shinohara as you usually would. John, watch his back today.”

He had hesitated over that one for a while. For one thing, Leonidas didn’t trust anyone and losing Clark would mean disaster. For another thing, Leonidas thought John had been a poor fit for Chaser for the same reason Theodore would have been: where Chasers had to be highly social beings by default, Beaters and Keepers had a bit more distance and license to act as they saw fit, if still not as much as Seekers did. A Seeker’s Beater in the standard strategy, though, had to follow his Seeker’s lead, almost read his mind and accomodate quickly when he got it wrong. However, John had to learn it sometime, as it would be complete idiocy to hand Clark over to a first year next year, and the Crotalus Beaters were going to be easy to handle. In the Championship or any game against Pecari, Leonidas would be the one keeping his Seeker in one piece, but today, he thought he was safe having some fun revisiting his younger years and beating up Douglas and Johnson and the new boy.

“Let’s make them sorry they made a full team,” he suggested to his team. “Good luck, everyone.”

He shook hands with Johnson, resisted the urge to half-turn to repeat the gesture with a Reinhardt who wasn’t on the field today, and went back to his team. When they kicked off, he smiled, pleased, when he saw Arianna go right for the Quaffle. That didn’t last long, though, because Johnson stole the Quaffle from her. That wasn’t going to work. Leonidas flew after a Bludger and whacked it straight toward the red robes, hoping at best to knock one of them down and at least to disrupt the pass and give his people a chance to recollect the Quaffle.

0 Captain Bennett, Beater Returning the favor 269 Captain Bennett, Beater 0 5

Daniel Fintoc, Chaser

June 14, 2016 11:56 AM

Trying to avoid it. by Daniel Fintoc, Chaser

Daniel felt rather nervous from the moment he woke up on the day of his first ever Quidditch match. He’d only been playing the sport for just over a year so, whilst previous experience meant he was more than comfortable on a broom, he wasn’t as confident when it came to playing this specific sport. He had never played Quidditch in a formal competitive situation before and now felt that he was being thrown in at the deep end, pitted against Aladren, the reigning Quidditch champions.

The weather was pretty bad, Daniel noted as he stepped outside that morning and shivered as a gust of wind hit him, not for the first time wondering why the school would make the weather unpleasant (since he’d heard that they controlled it). Being cold was something he thought wouldn’t be an issue once up in the air as the activities of his Chaser position would get him warmed up but wind was potentially a more problematic factor. The second year considered that it could pick up most unexpectedly and whip his passes and shots off course.

Daniel turned up to the pitch promptly, eager not to be the one to show poor form today or let the team down. Upon arrival, there was little time to dwell on any worries as he threw himself into the warm up. He certainly didn’t want to perform any worse than usual because of the cold (as Alistair said would happen if they weren’t sure to warm up thoroughly) and didn’t think the Captain, for one, would forgive him if he didn’t do his very best today. The older Crotalus had spent a lot of time helping Daniel with his Quidditch last year so now he felt pressure to prove to Alistair that it hadn’t all been a waste of time. Daniel had to hand it to his captain, whatever less appealing traits Alistair did have, his dedication and knowledge were both very admirable.

When the team was called together for a last minute pep-talk, Daniel tried to ignore his nerves and pay complete attention to what was being said. He bounced slightly from one foot to another to keep warm but stopped when Alistair focused on him so that it was clear he was listening. The twelve year old was glad of the last minute advice that the Captain gave, being sure to retain the instruction about using short passes and filled with a little more confidence having been told that their Chaser team was apparently better than that of Aladren.

Nevertheless, the butterflies in Daniel’s stomach were still there as he waited for the opposing captains to shake hands and the whistle to be blown. And then they were off and Dan knew better than to hang around. He pushed up into the air, eyes locked on the Quaffle. But then his line of sight got obscured and other players got in the way. It was rather messy, he thought, but having six players shoot up into the air heading for the same thing wasn’t really ideal for a clean flight line.

Suddenly the young Crotalus remembered what Alistair had told him in their latest team practice - “don’t get caught up in the fight for the Quaffle; I’ll get it.” Alistair was much faster on his broom than Daniel and probably the rest of the Chasers and was confident that he could get to the Quaffle first. Daniel was supposed to be the one keeping out of the fray and receiving the Quaffle as soon as Alistair got hold of it. What had he been thinking by ignoring this instruction? Apparently the nerves and the weather concerns had got to him and made him think too much about one thing. Daniel felt cross with himself by following what everyone else was doing like a sheep and forgetting his own individual role that he had been specifically assigned.

Fortunately for the second year, Alistair hadn’t been the one to get his hands on the Quaffle first, although Daniel knew he shouldn’t be relieved by this because Aladren had started off with the Quaffle advantage. However, he watched as Alistair snatched the Quaffle out of the air from Arianna Valenti’s pass and sped back towards him with it.

Daniel wasn’t sure when Alistair was going to pass. He had heard that the older boy could be a bit of a Quaffle-hogger in matches, possibly because he didn’t have much faith in his teammates which was something Daniel hoped wasn’t the case. As it turned out, Alistair passed the Quaffle his way pretty much as soon as he crossed the halfway line and Daniel was now ready to receive. He remembered what Alistair had said about short passes so stayed fairly close to receive the pass.

He caught the ball easily, the pass had been neat and so had his catch. Dan hadn’t messed up and they were off to a good start, but now the pressure was on him. Barely had he gained possession of the Quaffle and flew forward, glancing around, did the newest Chaser hear a bludger sailing through the wind towards him. He panicked, desperate to get rid of the Quaffle so he could escape the bludger without it. With a quick glance around, Daniel passed it on to the nearest red-clad Chaser and then ducked down to try and shake the bludger from his tail, not hanging around to make sure his short pass was successful. He thought he’d done okay, he hoped he’d done okay.

8 Daniel Fintoc, Chaser Trying to avoid it. 333 Daniel Fintoc, Chaser 0 5

Theodore, Keeper

June 17, 2016 10:43 AM

The changing of the guard by Theodore, Keeper

It felt like the changing of the guard. Quidditch hadn’t really felt the same since Francesca left but for a brief period, it had been theirs. His sister had graduated, and suddenly his room-mate was captain and they were the oldest players on the team. It had been strange to have that sense of ownership but it had existed. Now, they were playing their last few matches and everyone else… Well, everyone else was just so damned small, excepting Clark and John, who for all the slight difference in their ages (and large difference in social standing but that was all but forgotten about on the pitch), Theodore counted as his peers. It was bizarre. Even though his own opposite wasn’t a first year, she was new to the game, and generally considerably smaller than him, being a girl. It was hard to feel threatened, although as a Keeper, he didn’t really face off directly with her. He had the Chasers, who were more on a par with his age group, in two cases, but were still newer to the game than any of his group.

The morning of the match was cool and blustery. The former didn’t bother him overly, as he’d be heading to the far harsher winters of Chicago shortly. Admittedly, the demands placed on him there were more along the lines of standing in parlours, sipping hot cider, than venturing out to play sport, but he took refuge from the constant socialisation in walks in the park, and there were always errands to run to fetch things for the parties or top up school supplies for the following term, so he was more than used to the cold. The wind was less of an issue for him than for the Chasers. Certainly, it affected the Quaffle, which affected him, but whilst they were trying to pass with precision, he was trying to deflect shots; the caprices of the wind were equally likely to work in his favour as against him.

He took his usual Quidditch breakfast of porridge with banana and honey. Theodore scoffed at superstition and would have identified this as a habit, not a superstition, had anyone asked. He had many other breakfasts that he preferred. He usually had thick cut bacon sandwiches before training. But this had been Francesca’s Quidditch breakfast, and the morning of their first match, she had made it up for both of them. And it had stuck with him.

He joined the rest of the team on the pitch, politely offering warming Charms to any of the younger players who might not have known how to cast them for themselves, though in his opinion the weather merely warranted a sweater, especially if one was moving about a great deal. However, some people were from places that had never experienced this kind of temperature, and tended to be a bit more vulnerable to it.

He watched the captains shake hands, trying not to find Johnson comical, purely because pride tended to come before a fall, and it would be so much worse to lose to Johnson if he’d been amused by him beforehand. The boy seemed so pompous though - so self-assured, in spite of the fact he was leading a ragtag bunch of novices against the reigning champions of the school. He seemed so serious, and it seemed so misplaced on someone so young, Theodore thought, with the typical lack of self-awareness that might have reminded him that he had conducted himself in exactly the same way since he was around eleven, and had thought himself a proper big boy at big school.

The whistle sounded and he sped to his place, as the skirmish between the Chasers unfolded. The Crotalus Chasers actually seemed to be pulling out a decent attack, although Leonidas was able to send the smallest one scurrying with a Bludger. In his race to the hoops, Theodore had missed Arianna’s touch of the Quaffle, and so the action so far seemed somewhat one-sided. He had given the new girl very little consideration. He was so far removed from his age and class that he was never going to have any real or meaningful interaction with her. He was glad she had taken the spot, merely because she had saved them from having to forfeit. He had very little opinion of her as a person. The most significant thing that stood out about her was that she was not Francesca - the bar against which all Chasers, and especially female ones, were measured. Being younger, Theodore had never watched his sister in her first matches, and whilst he would, on the surface, claim that he was taking into account that Arianna was only a first year, it was hard for him to have an accurate idea of what that should mean in terms of his expectations.

Hoping that the Bludger would indicate a change of fortune, and allow an Aladren interception, he continued to circle the goals, both to keep warm and to stop himself being too obvious a target for Bludgers.

13 Theodore, Keeper The changing of the guard 270 Theodore, Keeper 0 5

Shinohara, Seeker

June 19, 2016 7:11 AM

Back in Black...Well, Red actually by Shinohara, Seeker

Uzu felt numb, and it wasn’t just the cold weather. Her entire body and mind had felt out of place since earlier that morning. Most nights before Quidditch, she slept comfortably, without a care in the world, but that previous night Uzu encountered what could only be considered her worst nightmare to date. It was the type that stirred a person from within, without having the decency to wake the suffering fool from their mind’s own torture. Although it left her shaken and covered in sweat by the time she finally woke, it pleased Uzu’s ego to know that in the time it took to wake up, brush her teeth, and dress herself for the match that she deducted the cause of her unsightly dreams.

“I want friends,” she thought with certainty to herself as she walked toward the pitch. She had dreamt of Sonora, Potion’s class to be exact, but where there should have been classmates, it was just her- alone. The entire dream she had spent by herself, only to have herself wake up in reality next to girls whom she barely knew, in a castle of students she didn’t talk to. The nightmare, the reality she had been ignoring as she drifted through the previous year, was that she really didn’t have anyone in Sonora, or in general, that she felt close to.

Sure, she had people that served a purpose, like Liac-kun entertaining her at breakfast. However a jester was not a friend, and to boot, whatever relation they had previously probably wouldn’t be the same now that they really were on different teams. She cast her eyes down at the foreign colored seeker uniform as she made her way across the pitch. They will see me so easily in the sky, she thought as she joined her team’s warm up.

Stretching her right arm across her chest, Uzu looked around at the common faces. What were these children to her? She caught sight of Makenzie-chan, who was hardly what Uzu would consider a close friend, just another student to whom she had given a function. As for Alistair, well; Uzu would rather not waste her carbohydrates thinking of how to classify the nasty little child in her friendship hierarchy. No. Right now, she had to put her mind at ease, loosen up her muscles, and shake off the uninvited feelings that had found their way into her consciousness.

Uzume listened absentmindedly to the little boy speak, he wasn’t so little anymore, but she refused to think of Alistair as anything other than her little kouhai. She felt her mind drifting back to the dream again, only to be pulled back to her senses by another cold wind. Flying was definitely going to be murder on her skin, she would need at least a good hour of snail facemask time to replenish its moisture when she got back to her room. Perhaps it was something she could ask Makenzie-chan to join her in. Only to repay the girl for her troubles of course, Uzume’s ego told herself. After all, it wouldn’t kill Uzu to be nice to the girl that painstakingly braided her hair before each match.

Uzume readied her broom at the start with her teammates. When the whistle blew she was off and flying towards her usual spot above the rough action of the Chasers. This time she was going to play differently- it wasn't like she could make her Seeker track record any worse.

0 Shinohara, Seeker Back in Black...Well, Red actually 0 Shinohara, Seeker 0 5

Makenzie Newell, Keeper

June 21, 2016 1:25 PM

And the guarding of the rings by Makenzie Newell, Keeper

Makenzie stared long and hard at the redhead in the mirror. This girl had her hair braided--the same way Shino’s hair was for every match, done by her own hands--and no makeup. Her Quidditch uniform fell uncomfortably from her thin shoulders, and, when looking lower, there was something intrinsically awkward about seeing this girl in pants. Grey eyes blinked back any leaking emotion; she did not want her teammates, or anyone else, to see her fear.

It was game day.

She had practiced very hard in preparation: harder, in fact, than she thought she had ever done anything before in her life, at least physically. It was surprisingly demanding to fly, and she wasn’t quite good at catching the Quaffle, usually blocking it with her chest rather than her hands. Her sternum was bruised and sore, and she was sweaty and tired, but she was learning. That was something, right? Truthfully, Makenzie wasn’t entirely sure that she really cared--after all, she hadn’t taken to playing for anything less than a minor political sabotage--but it was important to her teammates, all of whom were varying levels of passionate, and she figured if she was going to do this thing, she might as well do it as successfully as she could manage.

She got through warm-ups as best she could, a little bit sluggish but nonetheless trying her best to follow instructions. But like everything else, they came and went, and soon enough, the team moved on to the mental prep as opposed to the physical, with Captain Alistair giving an apparently customary speech. (She assumed these things were usual, since nobody else looked surprised.) Makenzie did her best to pay attention, her throat growing tense as she waited for Alistair to get to her. “Keeper,” he formally began at last. She gave stiff nods as he went along, wanting to show she was interested and attentive but all the while smothering nervous thoughts. What if she messed up? What if she was bad? What if they lost? What if Shino caught the Snitch, but Makenzie had let so many goals through that it didn’t matter?

Okay, so maybe she cared a little bit.

It actually surprised her that of all of these thoughts, none were actually for herself. She was not wondering the thoughts that two months ago she would have said were the ones that really mattered. What if this backfired and she lost too much standing? What if her family was disgraced by her actions? What if her parents found out and were disappointed in her? Not a single one of these crossed her mind. She was thinking for the team.

The fifth year stood beside her broom as Alistair shook hands with Leonidas Bennett, another custom she had somewhat forgotten. Coach Grase blew the whistle, and for a moment Makenzie stood there. “Oh!” she exclaimed aloud, hopping onto her broom and shooting into the sky. That meant go!

Aladren got the ball first, which instilled a wonderful, tiny panic in her chest. Fortunately Alistair got the Quaffle back, but rather unfortunately, it then seemed to just keep getting passed back and forth between teams. Makenzie watched carefully, flying little loops to keep warm. She almost wished someone would take a shot, either her team on Theodore or Aladren on her; at least then something would happen. This waiting, she imagined, might just be the death of her.

12 Makenzie Newell, Keeper And the guarding of the rings 291 Makenzie Newell, Keeper 0 5

Jack Spencer, Chaser

June 21, 2016 6:05 PM

Flying towards it. by Jack Spencer, Chaser

The morning of the Quidditch match, Jack woke up with adrenaline pumping through his blood. He'd dreamt of holding the Cup in his arms with his team-mates surrounding him, cheering him on, and he'd scored the winning goal. Everything had felt so real he hadn't wanted to wake up, but he knew he needed to get out of his warm bed and dress. Today was important. It was the first game of the year as well as the first match against Crotalus in a few years. They hadn't done very well putting a team together, but he was glad they'd managed this year. He couldn't wait to get back on the pitch and into the match.

Breakfast was quick and Jack ate just enough to sustain himself. He couldn't eat as much as usual because of his nerves, but he made sure to drink loads of water and use the toilet before approaching the pitch. He had his broom in hand, a hand-me-down from Adam but still very good. It was worn in the best way, and he'd learnt to trust it over the years. Jack joined his team-mates and looked at the sky. It was chilly today, and a gust of wind made him shiver. He wouldn't need a warming charm once he was up in the sky, so he refrained from casting one on himself. He rubbed his hands together, his broom tucked in his elbow, and listened attentively to their Captain.

Jack had shot up in height during the past few months, and was now about as tall as Adam. It was about time for his growth spurt, and Jack hoped to grow several more centimetres to pass his older brother. He was eating and drinking his milk faithfully. His sudden growth made flying a bit awkward, however, and Jack was still trying to find a comfortable position with his longer legs and torso. His arms were longer as well and he sometimes surprised himself by how far he could reach. He'd get used to it soon, he was certain, but it made catching some passes a bit awkward.

Once all the formalities were done with, Jack mounted his broom with the others and, as soon as the whistle blew, joined the fray. He was waving his throwing arm in the, reaching his fingers to snatch the Quaffle, but after being bumped and shoved by shoulders and elbows, Jack found that his team-mate had succeeded in getting it. Her manner of dealing with the Quaffle, however, was very unorthodox and Jack smacked his fist against his head as he saw her smack the Quaffle right into the arms of a Crotalus Chaser. There was no time to say a swear word as Jack immediately soared after Johnson, his blue eyes focused solely on his goal.

What Bennet had told them earlier suddenly came to mind: "Let’s make them sorry they made a full team." That sounded rather nice to him.

Jack pushed forward, leaning down more against his broom to gain speed. It didn't seem like Fintoc was going to take chances and might make a short pass. Jack would have to swoop in and snatch the Quaffle in that short space, or smack it away like Valenti had done earlier. Just not so haphazardly.

The bludger from his captain had distracted Fintoc enough for him to make a pass, and Jack did just as he'd hoped. It was not very graceful, as he clumsily smacked it downward first and scooped it into his arm, but it got the job done. Jack made a short turn and was now flying the other way towards the Crotalus hoops. He searched for one his team-mates surreptitiously, then did a short turn again going the other way and pushed it right into the arms of a blue-clad Chaser right before hitting the hoops.

What Jack didn't like was being surrounded by clumps of people, and he was glad to get a breath of fresh air before diving back in and seeing whether or not his team-mate could carry through with the first shot at the hoops.

40 Jack Spencer, Chaser Flying towards it. 299 Jack Spencer, Chaser 0 5

Louis Valois, Chaser

June 23, 2016 6:58 AM

And he shoots, he scores? by Louis Valois, Chaser

Finally it was the first Quidditch match of the year, and Louis felt like he’d been waiting a long time for this. It didn’t help that Quidditch had been cancelled last year, a fact that Louis was still a little annoyed about. Admittedly the challenges had been fun, but the Aladren had never understood why the two activities had been considered mutually exclusive. He’d certainly have been happy to do both at once. His father hadn’t been too pleased either, considering the challenges to be a complete waste of time, detracting from important things like schoolwork and Quidditch. Mme Valois had pointed out that the challenges probably taught important life skills such as teamwork, but Laurent Valois wasn’t having any of that. In his opinion, grades were more important than teamwork.

Louis had woken up early that morning, as he always did on Quidditch days, showering immediately instead of wandering around in his pyjamas as he sometimes liked to do. He made sure to eat a substantial but not too filling breakfast, ignoring the slight nerves that tried to put him off eating. He had absolutely no reason to feel nervous. Louis was confident in their team, despite the addition of a first year player. Aladren had a good reputation for Quidditch, and he was hoping that they’d pull through and win the Quidditch Cup once more.

Standing on the pitch facing the opposing team, Louis felt a thrill of anticipation run through him. This was why he loved Quidditch so much – it made him feel so alive. Sending a hopefully encouraging smile to Arianna (although he wasn’t sure she noticed), he mounted his broom and rose into the air with the rest of the Aladren team.

Louis watched the action with fierce concentration, weaving around the players to position himself well in case he was needed. Crotalus weren’t playing badly – he had perhaps underestimated them, forgetting that Alistair Johnson was now in control (apparently he liked to push his team hard). Still, Aladren were playing well too, and he felt confident as he followed Jack Spencer towards the Crotalus hoops, remaining ready to receive a pass. Suddenly Jack turned and next thing Louis knew he found himself clutching the Quaffle! With the hoops right in front of him, and hopefully an Aladren beater nearby to help distract the Crotalus keeper, Louis narrowed his eyes and aimed, sending the ball flying towards the right hoop with a strong throw.

9 Louis Valois, Chaser And he shoots, he scores? 314 Louis Valois, Chaser 0 5

John Umland, Beater

June 23, 2016 12:05 PM

Which makes my job a bit easier. by John Umland, Beater

The weather, John noticed, was on the cooler side on the day of the first match, but it didn’t disturb him. That Sonora’s weather rarely did disturb him was, he guessed, one of the benefits of growing up with a humid continental climate – he preferred the cooler weather to the hot, as his idea of summer was involved the low to mid-twenties and he had observed that the southern half of the United States’ idea of summer often involved the low to mid-thirties, but he could deal with either – but his position helped fuel his indifference toward the day’s weather, too. He felt a bit sorry for Clark and Theodore, their positions worked differently and wind was bad for Snitches and Quaffles, but he thought there would have to be snow on the ground before he stood much of a chance of getting cold as he played. He might get a cold tomorrow because of it, but they had a potion for that, so it wasn’t a serious concern, either.

He nodded approvingly during Leonidas’ speech, glad that the captain was taking the other team seriously. John expected a clean, easy victory, but anything could happen and getting sloppy made it more likely to happen. One in a million chances happened all the time around John, after all, so either they happened to everyone or he possessed some odd ability to unconsciously twist chance, and either way, Crotalus could have better luck than it made sense for them to. Plus, Quidditch was an inherently unbalanced game; all the sound and fury of Beating and Chasing and Keeping could signify next to nothing if the Snitch appeared in the wrong place at the wrong moment…..

John was a little surprised when Leonidas added that it was up to John to minimize the chances of that happening today, but he nodded. “Consider all angles watched,” he said.

They would, he thought, put Arne against Clark, as he did have some experience. Liac and Tobias together were a real challenge, but John wasn’t as familiar with their…relation, he really never could keep up with how people were related around here. Of course, it was always possible they could send the first year in just because first years were chaotic, liable to do anything; when John had been one, that had messed up his team’s strategies on the Pitch, but he guessed a completely unpredictable Beater who barely knew strategy and might well be on the brink of panic could conceivably work in a team’s favor, if he did something so bizarre and unlikely to work that a more experienced Beater just never saw it coming.

Well, John wasn’t a big one for rigid strategy anyway. Plans were kind of infamous for falling apart as soon as they got to the part involving an enemy; that was why in his other extracurricular activities, John went to a lot of trouble to avoid the possibility of encountering any enemies, or at least any human enemies – the laws of physics and economics did occasionally cause him problems, but not the way other people could. He’d adapt to whatever they threw at him.

Rule One, though, was always ‘take out the Seeker.’ As the chaos began, he locked in on one of the Bludgers and hit it toward Uzume’s back as she flew away from the main action. It probably wouldn’t work, but it might, and it would probably at least rattle her and her Beater to start with. That done, he flew to join Clark as his friend moved into his usual pattern. Clark’s system worked, but it also did demand a bit of his Beater, as John was sure Arne, at least, was passingly familiar with Clark’s style and that the Pecaris and the Reinhardts probably knew it as well as John did. Studying it was, after all, what John would have done in their shoes.

16 John Umland, Beater Which makes my job a bit easier. 285 John Umland, Beater 0 5

Isaac Douglas, Chaser

June 23, 2016 1:37 PM

I certainly hope not. by Isaac Douglas, Chaser

Isaac supposed there was some chance he looked slightly intimidating to the Aladrens, but he doubted it. For one thing, the entire House, to the last man as far as he could tell, was so arrogant that being threatened by him probably never occurred to them, and for another, he suspected they’d suspect his firmly clenched jaw had less to do with his resolve to win and more to do with the temperature. It was cold, and Isaac knew it and everybody else knew it and probably also knew that Isaac knew it, but Isaac was determined to show how much it bothered him as little as possible as he wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed one of his sisters to move to Chicago and another to New Hampshire.

Of course, it was his own fault he was cold, too. He had no real reason to be here, but…here he was. One more time. He guessed he was turning sentimental, or else had known it was probably the last one anyway and he had nothing better to do this afternoon.

Alistair, being Alistair, talked far too much before the game, specifically going on about keeping warm when listening to him entailed standing still and getting cold and relating Chasing information that Isaac, at least, already knew, though he supposed that part of the speech could have just been for Daniel’s benefit. There really wasn’t any excusing what he said to their Seeker, though - let’s just hope for sheer dumb luck was their best shot at winning, Alistair was completely right about that, but Isaac had known since he was a very small child that just because something was true was no good reason to say it. He had to disapprove of it all on principle, but sometimes he wondered if there weren’t a few advantages to having grown up with half-blood siblings perpetually underfoot…Maybe just if his mother hadn’t married their father, that really had caused too many problems to excuse, he thought.

The captains shook hands, the whistle blew, and they were off. The Aladren girl apparently knew all eyes were on her, as she went right for it. Didn’t keep it long, but Isaac didn’t have much time to celebrate that, as he realized that Bennett (strange; Umland was usually their headache to have. Isaac hated that guy) was in a decapitating mood. Daniel panicked and Aladren intercepted and was gone with the Quaffle. Cursing, Isaac turned around in the air to follow them back to Makenzie.

Isaac was, after all these years, perfectly competent on a broom, but he was too cautious to ever really be a fancy flier and he had no intention of trying to intercept a shot at the goals. For one thing, that was kind of insulting to Makenzie, and for another, it would be just his luck that a Bludger was aimed at either her or one of the Aladrens at that very moment and that he’d get it straight to the head if he did something stupid. Instead, he started setting himself up to receive the Quaffle when it was thrown back, ready to start over and try again from the top, though he loathed sitting still in the air even for a moment – the Bludgers, after all, never stopped moving, and while Alistair was the prize to knock out of the air and Daniel was the easy target, Isaac was sure Bennett would still settle for breaking a few of Isaac’s bones instead if that was the only victory available to him.

16 Isaac Douglas, Chaser I certainly hope not. 273 Isaac Douglas, Chaser 0 5

Makenzie Newell, Keeper

June 23, 2016 5:09 PM

Hope can get you pretty far. by Makenzie Newell, Keeper

They were coming.

Makenzie inhaled sharply, willing herself to stay calm. Despite the cold, her body flooded with warmth, adrenaline pulsing. You can do this, she told herself, though she was hardly convinced of it.

She watched as Jack Spencer cut through the air like a bullet, the sounds of the game quieted by her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Makenzie wasn’t one for violence or wishing pain upon others, but in that moment she found herself heartily wishing one of the Beaters could at least send a Bludger to tail him and make him break course. She didn’t really want to see him get hit, but at least then she wouldn’t have to risk messing up the block. His pass to Louis Valois was subtle, a physical handing of the ball as opposed to tossing, and in fact almost difficult to see. But it was a different blue-clad Chaser who now prepared to shoot.

As she calculated and executed her trajectory at the same time, the world seemed to go in slow motion. The ball was coming--that was for sure--but it moved slowly through the air. Makenzie too moved slowly, lunging to protect the right-most hoop. In this limited perception, it was hard to see if she’d make it in time, so, not expecting to catch it, she did what she could to block it, making herself as big as possible. She spread her arms and kicked out her legs, making her balance on the broom rather precarious but manageable. (She was nothing if not balanced, and flight was no exception. For that she was grateful.)

She stretched her neck in case her head could be of some assistance. To her surprise, it helped; the Quaffle made contact with her right cheek, and in the instance of pain, the world returned to full speed. It dropped into her lap, and she rushed to retract her arms and secure it before it rolled off and plummeted. Now in possession, she glanced around for one of her Chasers. “I got it!” she called out in genuine surprise. Her first save was by no means graceful, and there was a strong possibility of waking up to a bruised face in the morning--she could taste blood now, not exactly from the impact but because it had caused her to bite her tongue--but she had done it.

It was best not to hold onto the Quaffle too long because it made a person a great target for a Beater, so she sent it to a nearby red-wearing player. Of course, she didn’t have great strength and couldn’t throw it very far, but practices would have given them expectation for that. “Take it the other way!” she beamed, her now free hand absentmindedly rubbing out her sore cheek and jaw.

12 Makenzie Newell, Keeper Hope can get you pretty far. 291 Makenzie Newell, Keeper 0 5

Clark Dill, Seeker

June 23, 2016 9:49 PM

It's not any worse than orange, is it? by Clark Dill, Seeker

Clark flew his diagonal criss-cross pattern, rebounding off the side of the pitch (metaphorically, of course) at a one hundred degree angle, allowing him to traverse the field back and forth while distributing his time among both ends and sides of the pitch so no area was ever neglected for very long. During his first year as a Seeker, he'd spent hours mathematically formulating the best approach to statistically increase his chance of spotting the snitch before his opponent. It hadn't failed him yet, so he continued to fly the same pattern he'd created five years ago, without variation. This meant he could practically do it in his sleep now, and nearly all of his attention was put toward looking for the snitch instead of directing where his broom was going.

Of course, straining to see a tiny flash of gold with no idea of whether it might be in the near, middle, or far distance, one was prone to occasionally focus on something a little more concrete happening in one's field of vision, which is how Clark happened to see Makenzie take a Quaffle to the face. He winced in sympathy, having taken a basketball to the nose once and hoping for the fifth year's sake that Quaffles were a little softer.

He rubbed his hands together to warm them up, shook his head to refocus himself, and continued on Seeking. A sound of a bat meeting bludger made him tense and look around, but it looked like it was Uzume's problem this time, and he grinned at John as his guardian beater returned to cover him.

Aladren might not have succeeded in its first attempt at scoring a goal, but they were definitely on the offensive this game, and Clark felt they were off to a good and promising start. They just had to keep the pressure on and carry through.

He kept looking for his Snitch, willing the little alien ball to show itself while Uzume was distracted.

1 Clark Dill, Seeker It's not any worse than orange, is it? 277 Clark Dill, Seeker 0 5

Jack Spencer, Chaser

June 24, 2016 5:17 AM

If at first you don't succeed... by Jack Spencer, Chaser

It was the Quaffle against Newell now. The other Chasers, like he, were anxiously watching to see what would happen. If Makenzi wasn't playing against him right at this second, Jack would've appreciated her features. He thought she was nice to look at, particularly in class when they weren't doing anything interesting, but he'd never spoken to her. In fact, he hadn't really spoken to too many pretty witches at this school, and there were loads of them. But whilst he was intimidated by them in class, he saw the same witches a bit differently on the pitch. Everyone was equal here, and he liked that.

The wind felt harsher in the sky, it always did, and one of Jack's eyes was getting a bit foggy. He rubbed his eye trying to clear it, hovering as he was in the air, just as Newell stopped the shot with her face. Her way of blocking was quite unorthodox, but clearly they weren't pulling any stops in this match. It wasn't as though Jack was so proper any way that he cared how Newell had stopped the Quaffle from going in. All that mattered was that she'd blocked it.

Disappointment surged through him and Jack grunted angrily. She was quite good, and he wasn't worried yet. It was only the first attempt of the match, after all. Still, that didn't mean he was allowed to be lazy or take it easy. He shot forward, determined to intercept the pass right away. It would be the perfect opportunity to catch her off-guard, and he hoped it would.

Just as she sent it towards another Chaser, Jack was slightly surprised by the lack of power behind her throw, and, instead of snatching it out of the air and tucking it into his side, he had to fumble for it. The Quaffle bounced about on his fingers before he got a grip on it. His fingers hardly had time to adjust to the leathery ball before he threw it on his way past at the left hoop. His shooting had noticeably improved after his years of practise, but the Quaffle still shook a bit in the air. He blamed it on the breeze.

This time he didn't bother pretending he wasn't waiting to see if Newell would stop this one with her broom or her big toe. Momentum forced him to circle round again, holding onto his broom for dear life, but his eyes stayed glued to the hoops, hoping to be the first to make a goal in this match. In all of his years here, he didn't think he'd ever made a goal yet. The Chasers weren't very strong, not since Francesca had left, and Jack wanted to change that. He didn't want to be the reason why Aladren lost the season.

40 Jack Spencer, Chaser If at first you don't succeed... 299 Jack Spencer, Chaser 0 5

Sébastien Évreux, Beater

June 24, 2016 12:19 PM

What, fail again? by Sébastien Évreux, Beater

Sébastien had, at times, regretted signing up for Quidditch. Their captain, Alistair Johnson, was scarily obsessed with the game, demanding that they put in what seemed to Bastien a disturbing amount of time practising. He didn’t think he’d put so much time into anything in his life previously. Other than his hair, of course.

Grumbling at having to get up at a reasonable time at the weekend, Sébastien was reminded of how glad he was that he didn’t share a room with anyone. There were no concerns about being quiet, and he didn’t have to share space. Furthermore, no one got to see his less-than-perfect grumpy morning self! Sébastien didn’t particularly like sharing (unless, of course, he was the one who benefitted) and he prided himself on being perfect, so having a room to himself really was the ideal situation.

The slight breeze on the pitch woke him up more than the caffeine he’d consumed during his large breakfast had, and he finally felt vaguely ready for his first Quidditch game. He might not be the keenest of players, but there was no way he would entertain the thought of losing, especially to a team that included Louis Valois. Sébastien Évreux never lost anything. He gripped his bat tightly as he rose into the air, wishing he had a little (ok, a lot) more bulk but hoping he still looked adequately menacing.

Beater was perhaps a role quite well suited for Bastien. He didn’t have the flying dexterity or the catching and throwing skills needed for chaser or keeper and, as much as he’d like to feel special and be the seeker, he wouldn’t ever be the best player. Not that he’d ever admit that. But despite being small he was fairly strong, and had a fair amount of repressed anger that was well put to use in hitting bludgers at other players as hard as he could.

Bastien let out a huff of anger as the Aladren players approached the Crotalus hoops, not liking the look of the situation. Luckily Mackenzie proved her worth as a keeper. Bastien grinned at the disappointment that Louis Valois was surely feeling as his shot failed, mood having changed instantaneously. Let Valois see what it was like to feel inferior for once.

Alarm shot through Sébastien as an Aladren chaser took possession of the Quaffle once more, seemingly with the intention of scoring. He couldn’t let that happen! Flying towards a nearby bludger he hit it as hard as he could towards the would-be scorer. Unfortunately he was a little late, the Quaffle already having left Jack Spencer’s hand, and Bastien cursed (in French, of course) as the bludger flew towards the hoops. Hopefully it wouldn’t put Mackenzie off saving the shot.

9 Sébastien Évreux, Beater What, fail again? 350 Sébastien Évreux, Beater 0 5

Makenzie Newell, Keeper

June 24, 2016 4:02 PM

I don't think that's how the saying goes... by Makenzie Newell, Keeper

Merlin, she just couldn’t catch a break today. The sting of success--if it could be called that--was yet to leave her cheek, and here came Jack Spencer, hurling the Quaffle her way. Or not quite her way: at the farthest hoop from her current position. Great.

She pulled her broom with all her strength, willing it speedier as she shot toward the left hoop. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied another complication. There was a Bludger hurdling their direction, aimed such that she couldn’t even tell which team had sent it flying. If it was meant for her, Makenzie thought that was pretty rude; it was her first game, after all, and she was a delicate young lady. Wasn’t getting hit in the face with the Quaffle enough?

Apparently not, as the Bludger locked onto her. The redhead panicked and made a sharp turn upward to avoid getting hit, but in doing so, there was no time left to stop the Quaffle. It sailed through its intended hoop without her so much as touching it. Makenzie felt hot embarrassment stall out the cold air as she flew down to retrieve the red orb. Okay, so she was one for two.

She sent the Quaffle toward a Crotalus Chaser, accompanied by a mouthed sorry. Her throw was slightly harder this time, spurred on by a touch of anger at herself, but still nothing of particular remarkability. Please go the other way, she silently pleaded. Get that thing away from me.

12 Makenzie Newell, Keeper I don't think that's how the saying goes... 291 Makenzie Newell, Keeper 0 5

Arne Reinhardt, Beater

June 25, 2016 4:32 AM

At least this time our color is all our own. by Arne Reinhardt, Beater

Arne had been surprised, to say the least, when Uzume Shinohara’s delicate roommate showed up to try-out for Crotalus Quidditch. He had been even more surprised when Alistair had then allowed her on the team. But he was pleasantly surprised when she turned out to not be half-bad. That a witch was on the team didn’t bother Arne in the slightest—after all, Uzume Shinohara had played Seeker for each year he’d played Quidditch at Sonora and the fact that she was a witch had barely even crossed his mind. Gender barriers were just not something that Arne tended to care about when it came to a person’s ability to do something. However, he was more than aware of American pureblood “propriety” and so Makenzie’s rebellion—despite it not seeming to be a huge deal at Sonora where they’d had multiple female Quidditch players over the years who were met with almost no scrutiny, intrigued him.

Additionally, as he was still required to sit with his brother and cousin from time to time, Tobi’s lingering glances had not escaped Arne’s attention and, though there was no love lost between himself and the older, golden brother to whom he would always be compared, he had to make sure that the person of interest was good enough for the apple of his father’s eye. Following around the Keeper though was not his priority for the match and Arne refocused his attention to Shino who he had been assigned to protect for the duration of the game. The Japanese witch joined the Reinhardt meals from time to time and Arne found her attitude towards life refreshing, but he thought he’d get irritated if forced to spend too much time with her so he kept his distance outside of practice.

However, now that Mackenzie and the young French boy with almost as much arrogance as Alistair were on the team, it meant that Crotalus was finally independent of Teppenpaw and that therefore Arne was free from the shadow of his older brother and their halfwit presenting cousin. Arne knew Liac wasn’t a complete idiot, but sometimes he wondered why the halfblood was so determined to act in that manner. Arne himself enjoyed playing the clown from time to time but with Liac it felt like that was all the Boston Reinhardt knew. But that was neither here nor there as the Teppenpaws were not on the field with him but rather in the stands, sitting next to an adequately decked out Laila. He hadn’t scanned the crowd for any other of the Sonoran witches who had caught his interest as of late, but he hadn’t really scanned the crowds for anyone—mainly because Arne didn’t like to psych himself out before a game and this was his first time appearing on the Pitch as a regular roster member.

“Looks like it’s you and I together this time, Shino,” he said as he and his new partner assumed their places on the pitch. “Nervous?” He offered her a grin and began his rounds. It was something that Alistair had made him practise so many times before, something that he himself had wanted to practise because he knew that even though the other teams had more seasoned beaters the long hours of practise could hopefully even the playing fields a little bit. Arne himself had always been one for an underdog story anyway. He always loved the accounts in the papers when the unexpected team won and to be fair, he uite felt like the underdog at home since Tobi was such a hard image to live up to.

But as he heard the crack of a bat and saw the bludger coming towards his Seeker, Arne knew that only quick action would help not only his team but also himself move towards the defeat of those whose shadows they were living in. And, after berating himself momentarily for thinking such a horribly cheesy thought, Arne raced off to rescue Shino who, in any other circumstances, he was sure would not need rescuing. Throwing himself between the bludger and Crotalus precious Seeker, Arne managed to wedge in his bat just in the nick of time to save himself from a rather nasty bruise but he did save his wrist from a poorly angled shot.

The bludger raced off in the other direction and Arne tightened his legs around his broomstick as he reached his other hand around to gently massage his wrist. He would likely be wanting some sort of pain potion afterwards, but for now he knew he would have to put it out of his mind. Their game had only just begun and Crotalus didn’t have the capacity for an injured Beater to slow them down. Luckily, after years of hanging out in the workshop, surrounded by sparks, hot metal, and other dangerous items that children normally shouldn’t have been around, Arne had burned himself by accident enough times that dealing with pain was something he was used to.

“You alright there, Shino?” He called over his shoulders as he began to circulate once more.

10 Arne Reinhardt, Beater At least this time our color is all our own. 319 Arne Reinhardt, Beater 0 5

Clark Dill, Seeker

June 25, 2016 3:51 PM

I generally like primary colors best. Like Blue. by Clark Dill, Seeker

It took a few more circuits and a handful of deviations off his pre-defined path due to bludgers, but after some time (a little longer, he thought, than he normally took to locate the tricksome creature, but Uzume hadn't found it in that time either), Clark finally spotted that flash of gold. Stifling a whoop that might alert the opposition to his find, Clark kept on his path, trying to get closer without alerting the Crotalus seeker to its location. If he dove for it now, she'd have an equal chance of getting there first, but if they carried on at their current trajectories for just thirty more seconds, Clark's probability of winning would vastly increase.

It was hard, really hard, not to stare it down and chase after it immediately. He didn't quite dare look away from it, as it had a tendency to flit and vanish when you so much as blinked, but he tried to just keep it in his peripheral vision until he was in the best position to make his move.

For a moment, he panicked a little and thought he lost it, but there it was, just a few feet from where he'd thought it was. At that point, he dropped the nose of his broom and dropped into his dive, using gravity and every bit of speed his broom could give him to cross the distance faster than Uzume Shinohara.

His hand reached out, attached to his very long arm, and his fingers closed around the golden winged alien first.

This game was Aladren's. A great beaming grin split across his face and he waved it over his head so the coach could see it was all over.

Clark's winning streak had continued one more game.

1 Clark Dill, Seeker I generally like primary colors best. Like Blue. 277 Clark Dill, Seeker 0 5

Coach Grase

June 25, 2016 4:20 PM

Game Over! Aladren wins 170-20 by Coach Grase

OOC: Great game kids! To clear up any potential confusion about the final score, we're/I'm trying out a new system for scoring. It's meant to hopefully flow better and be more accurate to a physical game.

0 Coach Grase Game Over! Aladren wins 170-20 0 Coach Grase 0 5

Coach Grase

June 29, 2016 2:40 AM

OOC Note by Coach Grase

Hey Jack. So, just so you know, I had to penalize you a few points for this post. In carrying the quaffle half way across the pitch, you accidentally godmodded. Part of the definition of godmodding includes forcing inaction, and assuming you made it all that way without any interference from an opposing beater or chaser forces inaction upon them. It was also kind of awkward; at one point you made it seem like you'd traveled a short distance, but then were directly in front of the hoops. Other than that, I did enjoy the post, so I suggest learn from this, and don't hesitate to try again! :)

0 Coach Grase OOC Note 0 Coach Grase 0 5

Coach Grase

Quidditch Game 1: Aladren vs. Crotalus by Coach Grase

<font color=blue>Arianna Valenti, Chaser</font>

Kicking things off by <font color=blue>Arianna Valenti, Chaser</font>

<font color='red'>Capt. Ali Johnson, Chaser</font>

Stopping you right there. by <font color='red'>Capt. Ali Johnson, Chaser</font>

<font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>

Welcome back, Crotalus by <font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue">Captain Bennett, Beater</font>

Returning the favor by <font color="blue">Captain Bennett, Beater</font>

<font color='red'>Daniel Fintoc, Chaser</font>

Trying to avoid it. by <font color='red'>Daniel Fintoc, Chaser</font>

<font color='blue'>Theodore, Keeper</font>

The changing of the guard by <font color='blue'>Theodore, Keeper</font>

<font color='red'>Shinohara, Seeker</font>

Back in Black...Well, Red actually by <font color='red'>Shinohara, Seeker</font>

<font color=red>Makenzie Newell, Keeper</font>

And the guarding of the rings by <font color=red>Makenzie Newell, Keeper</font>

<font color="blue">Jack Spencer, Chaser</font>

Flying towards it. by <font color="blue">Jack Spencer, Chaser</font>

<font color='blue'>Louis Valois, Chaser</font>

And he shoots, he scores? by <font color='blue'>Louis Valois, Chaser</font>

<font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>

Which makes my job a bit easier. by <font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>

<font color="red">Isaac Douglas, Chaser</font>

I certainly hope not. by <font color="red">Isaac Douglas, Chaser</font>

<font color="red">Makenzie Newell, Keeper</font>

Hope can get you pretty far. by <font color="red">Makenzie Newell, Keeper</font>

<font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>

It's not any worse than orange, is it? by <font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue">Jack Spencer, Chaser</font>

If at first you don't succeed... by <font color="blue">Jack Spencer, Chaser</font>

<font color='red'>Sébastien Évreux, Beater</font>

What, fail again? by <font color='red'>Sébastien Évreux, Beater</font>

<font color="red">Makenzie Newell, Keeper</font>

I don't think that's how the saying goes... by <font color="red">Makenzie Newell, Keeper</font>

<font color="red">Arne Reinhardt, Beater</font>

At least this time our color is all our own. by <font color="red">Arne Reinhardt, Beater</font>

<font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>

I generally like primary colors best. Like Blue. by <font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>

Coach Grase

Game Over! Aladren wins 170-20 by Coach Grase

Coach Grase

OOC Note by Coach Grase