Weightless When I Fly Private Closed

Closed RP for @Annie Morgan

The world was still, and the air was heavy. The dense clouds painted the world a dull grey threatening a down pour on the horizon. A few trees lining the boundary of the castle grounds and the forbidden forest had already started turning a variety of orange and yellows, and although autumn hadn’t fully swept the summer away, a slight chill hung in the air. None of these factors stopped Oliver from finding himself retreating towards the Quidditch Pitch.

He had heard some of the older students talking about a practice pitch nearby, and with the hectic first week of school he needed to reset himself. Growing up around the sport, it was no wonder Oliver used it as a means of therapeutic stress relief. His first week of school was mostly spent wondering the corridors like a lost puppy. The professors weren’t to pleased with how often Oliver found himself stumbling into class a little behind schedule, but hey he was trying and the castle was gigantic maze.

Oliver donned a yellow Hufflepuff sweater with a pair of black well-fit jeans. It was refreshing to get out of the school robes every chance he got. Tucked underneath his armpit was a just incase poncho (an annoying habit he picked up from his mother) and clinched tightly in his right hand was his school issued broom. Although his mother was a professional Quidditch player, she didn’t allow Oliver to have the best of the best. “The difference in skill should be with the player, not the broom.” She would always preach.

Three towering bronze post sticking out of the grounds lured Oliver to his destitution. Dropping his belongings to the earth, Oliver stared up at the sky trying to judge how long he had. Taking in a deep breath, he allowed the cool crisp air to fill his lungs as he just took in the moment before lift off. This was the most relaxed he felt all week. “Up,” He said with a firm voice as he held his hand above his broom. For a moment the broom just sort of rolled around as if trying everything it can to disobey the order, but on a second try the broom zapped right up into Oliver’s hand.

A confident smile painted across the first years face as he threw his left leg over the broom, and soon enough the confident smile became a carefree one as the boy kicked off the ground. The wind smacked him in face as defied gravity on a broomstick doing barrel rolls, and dodging make believe Bludgers. In his mind he could hear the crowd chanting all around him, as he pretended to be in the middle of a match.

In the distance Oliver could make out a silhouette on the ground approaching. Unsure if first years were even allowed to fly so freely on grounds, Oliver lowered the broom until his feet were back on the ground. The boy decided to wait it out a few to see if the person would approach, and yell at him, or maybe even join him?