Quidditch Spectator Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff - Fall 2024

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QUIDDITCH STADIUM
2024-10-12
Open to Interaction

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Mamori sat in the rain-soaked seats, juggling his umbrella in one hand and his Omnioculars in the other. His Hufflepuff scarf and robes were damp from the wind that seemed determined to blow the rain in every direction, but he hardly cared. This was the first Quidditch match he got to watch at Hogwarts, and the excitement buzzing through him outweighed the soggy discomfort. He glanced at his umbrella, wishing he had a hand free to wave a Hufflepuff flag like some of the other students. Hopefully the yellow umbrella does the job, he thought with a wry smile. Raising his Omnioculars again, he scanned the Gryffindor lineup — and his eyes caught on a few first-year players standing with the second string. “Oh blimey, Gryffindor’s got some first years on the team,” he muttered, smile fading just a little. He had tried out for Hufflepuff earlier this year, but hadn’t made it. Everyone said it was rare for first-years to get on a team due to their lack of flying experience, but apparently that didn’t apply to Gryffindor. A flicker of envy crept in as he wondered how they’d managed it. Lucky them... he murmured under his breath, before turning his focus back to the field.

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•Lovely Creature in Effect•

@Alyssea Brown @Eugenia Karageorgiadi
[Open to all interactions!]

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Deciding to have a busy day of watching and indulging is his tastes for the day, Prat ventured from the first game towards the next. The games were going on for the day and Prat had no intention of missing out. Quidditch had by now impressed the young snake enough to be alotted time in his day. Snacking on his food Prat felt like the embodiment of gluttony as he gave himself one day to enjoy the day with no work or academics. A day to kick back and relax, deep into his desire for food and entertainment. "THIS IS CINEMA" was the expression he carried on his face as he sat there.

This rain that poured down along with the wind that carried it could not dampen his spirits. Putting up his magical umbrella similar to the previous game, Prat employed Pluvia Velo for himself. Today was not the day he would let rain ruin his hair. Styling it in this could prove difficult would it to come undone. Thanking his mother's orders to get them shortened he imagined the two part squirrel he might have looked in this wind had he kept them long.

With the game beginning Prat had very less faces he could recognize among the roster, Posing loner. From the whole ensemble of these freaks ready to potentially kill each other on the grounds, figuratively ofc, Prat recognized two faces, one of those being a familiar face from his own year being Eugenia who he had met several times prior, including the time he stacked leaves on Kenzie.

With the other face being the third year badger satan, who at first impression snatched the rug from under his feet, blowing up the very floor they stood on. The spell might have even left a bad effect on Prat with him now waiting for a rematch. However in recent times things had mellowed so far as to him asking for her assistance during their very legal game of rocks and several duels.

Coincidentally both of them were Hechlepech and thus prat had no reason to support gryffs for this one. Somehow, by elimination he did not have to worry what team to root for in this game, there was no conflict of interest. His biases were apparent and he wasn't afraid to show them. Deep down he probably had a ranking of all houses based on how much he despised those within them. With the the flight instructor out on the field and game now in it's time, Prat was ready for the chaos that was to ensue.

English | Parseltongue
mentioning: @Pax Zhang
interacting: @Prat Pass
open to interactions

Della was a bit embarrassed about how long it had been since she had seen a Hogwarts quidditch game. And today's weather seemed to be poking more fun at her embarrassment. If it hadn't been for the friendship she'd recently struck with the Gryffindor quidditch captain, she'd have left at the first sight of rain. But instead, she persevered. She knew that her fellow lions hadn't had as many successes in the last few years as their racing counterparts, but hey, maybe they needed better fans in the crowd!

Della was bundled up tight, wearing as many red things as she could find. Greta, her snake, was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, protected from the elements by quite a few scarves—her companion could easily and secretly travel with her when the occasion called for several layers. The umbrella spell was keeping them both dry—she did feel bad for the students who hadn't learned that one yet, but normal nonmagical umbrellas did exist. The handsome younger boy sitting near her also had the same idea; a magical transparent shield was keeping his styled coif in perfect condition. He was a Slytherin by the looks of it, but there was no clear indication of who he was supporting.

Della leaned slightly toward him, "Who are you supporting? Here for anyone in particular?"

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•Lovely Creature in Effect•

@Della Barfield|@Evelynn Decipio
[Open to all interactions]

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Outfit: School robes, winter coat, green wellies red-and-gold scarf

Mentioning:--------------- @Juniper Kelly -------------- @Alliasta Holista-------------- Quidditch Teams--------------

WC: 1228/200 12 Oct, 4:22pm

Brian: #572700

The rain came down in sheets, slashing across the muddy path like an endless curtain of water. Brian had heard the weather was unpredictable in the Scottish Highlands, but nothing had quite prepared him for this. As a first-year student at Hogwarts, he was still learning the ropes of life at the castle, and the dreary October weather felt like an unspoken test of endurance. His robes clung to his skin, the fabric weighed down by the relentless downpour, and his gumboots were caked in thick brown mud that seemed to cling to the soles like some invisible force, determined to slow his progress.

The narrow path winding down the hillside toward the Quidditch stadium was slick and uneven, filled with small puddles that quickly turned into deeper ones, each one threatening to swallow his feet. Brian kept his head down, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead, the cool rainwater trickling down his neck. He tried not to look at the sky, which seemed to be nothing but a mass of dark, swirling clouds, as if the heavens themselves had conspired to turn this match into an ordeal.
“Feel like it's rainin' up me arse,” Brian muttered under his breath, exhibiting some fine Scouse manners as he tugged his cloak tighter around himself. He wasn’t sure why he’d even decided to come to the match. Quidditch was loud and fast, and he’d heard enough stories to know it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. This would be his very first game, and though opinions were certainly mixed, he'd heard fire-side conversations in the Gryffindor common room that made him curious enough to try it out. What's more, Brian missed the days he used to spend at the Kop of his own local football club. Knowing that this would be the closest thing to it in the wizarding world, it would be something he'd have to try out sooner rather than later.

And so here he was, trudging through the muck, the distant thud of bludgers and the faint cheering from the stadium getting louder with each step. "Warm-ups must have started already. Blast." he thought to himself as he marched on, hoping to get there before all the good spots in the stands had already been taken up.

The path curved around a small grove of trees, their skeletal branches whipping in the wind. Brian stopped for a moment to catch his breath and wipe the water from his face. The absolute deluge of rainwater coming down and soaking his clothes didn't particularly motivate him. Still, he couldn’t deny the sense of excitement that was beginning to build in his chest. The whole school seemed to buzz with it, as if Quidditch were more than just a game.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Brian reached the entrance to the stadium. He joined a long line of students, many of them equally drenched and grumbling, as they made their way through the stone archway and into the stands. A warm gust of air hit him as he passed into the stadium, and though it didn’t dry him off, it did bring a brief respite from the chill of the rain.

The roar of the crowd was immediate and overwhelming. The stadium was packed with students from every House, their voices rising and falling in waves of excitement. Brian scanned the stands, quickly spotting the Gryffindor section to his left, a sea of scarlet and gold scarves and banners. To his right, Hufflepuff supporters in their yellow and black robes were shouting with equal fervor. Both sides were chanting the names of their teams, and even from where Brian stood, he could feel the energy thrumming through the air.

With a deep breath, Brian made his way to an empty seat, finding an ideal spot with a clear view of the pitch. He pulled his damp coat tightly around himself and sat, trying to ignore the discomfort of the rain-soaked fabric sticking to his legs. He tried to make sense of the field - the oval shape and six three metal hoops at both ends of it looked awkward to Brian, as did the few field markings. Still, he felt the excitement of the crowd ripple through him as he leaned forward, eager to see the action unfold.

Then, he watched as the players came back onto the field, bolstered with a myriad of cheers and jeers from both the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff ends. He counted a total of seven players per team in the field, and a handful of substitutes on the benches at the side of the field. While he couldn't exactly make out who was who with the dark clouds and high-up position in the stands, he could see the players' jersey numbers and kit colours decently well.

The game began with a sharp blast of the referee’s whistle, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Both teams’ chasers were already darting into action, their broomsticks cutting through the rain as they weaved around each other with impressive speed. Brian could barely keep track of the Quaffle as it passed between players, each team working in perfect coordination, trying to land the ball in their opponent’s hoop. He found himself mesmerized by the movements—each player’s agility, each quick pass or feint, and the way they seemed to read one another’s minds.

The tension was palpable, and Brian was caught up in it before he even realized it. His eyes tracked a Gryffindor chaser as he zoomed across the pitch, and Brian could feel his heart pounding with the rhythm of the game. The chaser flew close to the Gryffindor goalposts, but Hufflepuff's Keeper made a stunning save, the ball ricocheting off her broom and falling to the ground below.

However, that very same chaser managed to keep up the pressure, scoring twice and managing to bring the score up to 20 - 0. By now, Brian had gotten a tad confused at the rules of the game, and though he thought that Gryffindor's no. 7 was doing a stellar job, he just wasn't familiar enough with quidditch to understand why. Still, he cheered with the other Gryffindor students, clapping along with his earlier doubts about the game melting away. The atmosphere was intoxicating, the way everyone rallied behind their team, shouting and singing and laughing together. He glanced over at the Hufflepuff section, where the yellow-clad students were already gearing up for the next round of action. They weren’t backing down—they were determined, their cheers just as loud and spirited.
Then, a sharp, sudden shout pierced the air.

“LOOK OUT!”

Brian barely had time to look up before a Bludger came streaking past him, the result of a miss by one of Gryffindor's beaters, hurtling dangerously close to the stands. A collective gasp went through the crowd, but the Bludger veered off just in time, narrowly missing a row of students in the stands. Brian felt his heart race again. This was what Quidditch was all about—the high-speed danger, the close calls, and the thrill of it all.

The game continued in a blur of motion—players darting and dodging, the Quaffle bouncing between hands and the crowd shouting in unison. Brian was no longer just watching; he was a part of the spectacle, his body leaning forward with every pass, every dive, every close play.