A Thrilling Ride! PV Joseph Sims

Pale sunlight sneered at Joseph as he shuffled down the cobblestone steps, the sunny warmth pricking gently at his skin. Then a puff of cool wind, wriggling through his hair to undo his careful tidying. Weather. One of the many reasons Joseph wasn’t a fan of going outdoors. Maybe this trip was a terrible mistake.

He rubbed his temples, ignoring the warning sirens blaring “ABORT MISSION!” in his head. He was here for a reason. To practice riding a broom. And more importantly, to make sure his broom wasn’t offended by his neglect. Imagine being unceremoniously chucked under some insignificant Hufflepuff’s bed, collecting dust and keeping a cluster of old chocolate wrappers company. Talk about ways to destroy one’s ego.

But that was going to change. Mr Broom was getting more attention from Joseph from now on. Probably. Hopefully.

Ugh, Mr Broom. Joseph really needed more fancy names for his belongings. Like Signor Gazzolax. Or Shazzarin the Finest. The former sounded more noteworthy.

Chuckling to himself, Joseph examined his broom, his footsteps crunching to a halt. It was a Christmas gift from his friend Mamori - one he’d admired but hadn’t paid much attention to. Don’t get him wrong. Brooms were these cool, pricey stuff everyone fancied; but the thought of soaring through the air a hundred feet above the ground didn’t quite thrill him.

Seriously, quidditch players were a different breed.

His point was proven by the sleek, brown-haired figure gliding to rest before him on her magnificent broom. Avery Gray, member of the Gryffindor quidditch team. Who so happened to be a close friend of his.

“Hey,” Joseph greeted, flashing her a warm smile. “Fancy seeing ya here. Thought I’d get some flying practice with Signor Gazzolax.” He nodded towards the simple but sturdy broom in his hand, absentmindedly patting it like it was a nervous pet. Maybe it was for the better that Avery was here. He certainly wouldn’t mind some bonus flying tips from the expert.

Interacting with: @Avery Gray
Mentioning: @Mamori Anezaki

Interacting with: @Joseph Sims Mentioning: N/A Date: 09/20/25

Word Count: 295

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Avery smiled. Glad that she hadn't disturbed Joseph. It had been awhile since she had last seen him, and she didn't know he even liked to ride brooms. That's when an idea popped into her head. An idea that was probably crazy, but also more fun than just being alone. "Signor Gazzolax? Wow. You have me beat with broom names. Especially creative ones. I haven't even decided on a name for this broom yet, but I'll figure that out eventually. Anyway, if you're not busy or waiting to meet up with someone, care to join me for a race? I haven't had much practice on this broom yet, and practice is a lot better with friends." Avery smiled. Excited to see what the day would bring. As Avery awaited Joseph's response, she took a quick glance around the pitch. Not very many people were on the broom tracks. Perfect. That meant if things went. . . astray. . . at least no one would get hurt. At least, no bystander would. Avery knew from experience that she wasn't exactly the greatest when it came to high speeds and sharp turns. They always ended with her eating dirt instead of feeling the rush of the wind in her face and blowing her hair. She cringed internally as she relieved the amount of times she had crashed her broom the year before. There were the few times that she had only been bruised and slightly sore the next day, but other times? Well, other times things didn't go too pretty. She had had her fair share of painful injuries and just hoped nothing bad would happen that day. Though, safety was never a promise or confirmed. There was always risk. Especially when flying objects like brooms or even bludgers were involved.

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Avery flashed him a smile, which Joseph took to be a good sign. Not everyone was quite as thrilled about his lunatic-certified energy. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was doing mental eye-rolls at him.

“We could always think of a good name for it now,” Joseph said, twirling a strand of hair. He glanced at her sleek broom, as though expecting it to morph into a scaly, fire-breathing dragon. His heart sank by an inch when it didn’t. “Want something cute or flashy? Clearly you can’t take ‘Gazzolax’ ‘cause I’ve taken it already.”

He slid his fingers down Signor Gazzolax’s dusty handle, as though stroking a beloved pet snake. It didn’t make sense to him, how Avery hadn’t given her broom a name yet. Weren’t brooms a quidditch player’s best pal? It had to be illegal to not know one’s bestie’s name.

Maybe the outside world was different. Maybe naming objects was out of style.

Hopefully she was nice to the broom at least. Basic expectations in life. Treat others nice, be treated nice. Joseph didn’t follow the frequent Quidditch games, but if his friend was thrown off her broom a lot, now he’d know why.

Avery must have read his mind, because she quickly suggested a broom race, with yet another classic Avery-smile.

Joseph blinked. He wasn’t sure he heard her right.

A.

Race.

Joseph the tornado of chaos, against a Quidditch player. His odds were probably a fraction higher than a gerbil in a wrestling match with Big Foot.

“Bring it on,” Joseph blurted, bearing a toothy smirk. He was here for some flying practice, anyway. “I’ll probably need to warm up a little though; it’s been ages since I last rode a broom.” 

 He’d be lucky if he survived the day with less than five broken bones, two burnt eyebrows and a concussion. Hopefully Signor Gazzolax would be nice to him, forgiving the Hufflepuff for the months of neglect. A nasty mixture of Joseph’s abysmal flying skills and a vengeful broom was the recipe for absolute chaos.

@Avery Gray

Interacting with: @Joseph Sims Mentioning: N/A Date: 09/20/25

Word Count: 346

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Avery smiled. She really did need to find a good name for her broom. Since she probably wasn't going to get another one anytime soon, why not choose a good name? "What about Cyflym which means swift or even Arian Saeth which actually means Silver Arrow in Welsh. Honestly I'm good with anything." Avery didn't know exactly what she wanted for her broom's name, but the few names given so far all seemed like a good match. Avery couldn't believe that Joseph had agreed. Here they were. Two friends about to race across the pitch. The lioness versus the badger. Who would win? Would they survive in one piece or would they crash to their doom leaving others to put the pieces of them back together? There was only one way to find out and it was racing. Avery had never really raced anyone before. She had always stuck to Quidditch instead of broom racing. Though she loved going fast, broom racing was too brutal for her. She couldn't stand trying to knock someone out or off their broom on purpose just so her team could win. Then again, Quidditch was similar, but not the same. Maybe she could do this. It was simple, really. All she had to do was race her friend. Nothing dangerous to that, right? She knew she was lying to herself. Between the two of them, she knew something crazy or even dangerous was bound to happen. It was just what they did. The two of them were competitive. That side of them would obviously show in this race. Making it even more fun. "Take all the time you need. I should probably warm up myself anyway. Meet back here when you're ready?" Avery asked him as she flew off a short distance and began flying in circles. Slow at first, but then gradually speeding up. She didn't know how well it would work in a race, though. She loved to fly fast, but every time she tried she ended up blowing it. She just hoped that day wasn't the case.

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Joseph blinked, his lips twitching as he glanced up at his friend. He’d never known Avery knew Welsh. Did she live in Wales? Coming to think of it, he hadn’t ever asked his friend where she stayed. That had never seemed important to him. Most of their conversations revolved around navigating the millions of dangerous plants in the greenhouses. They were Herbology buddies, anyway.

“Cool name ideas,” Joseph said, ruffling his windswept hair. He didn’t have the heart to tell her ‘cyflym’ sounded like an obscure disease only medicine geeks would know. Hopefully it wasn’t contagious. The last thing he wanted was to be bedridden and coughing, diagnosed with stage 3 cyflym. Symptoms included… forgetting how to tie your shoelaces, and maybe a sudden obsession for solar-powered butter churners.

Something was terribly wrong with Joseph.

Joseph swung a leg over Signor Gazzolax, straddling himself on the broomstick. He flicked his gaze up, a hand shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight. Avery was already soaring through the skies, zipping around in circles like an excited puppy. An excited flying puppy. Joseph sighed. Clearly he was the underdog of this race. Which would mean… Avery was the overdog. A grin slipped onto his face at the thought. He loved dogs. Now he’d finally get to be one. 

“Here goes nothing,” Joseph sucked in a deep breath, fixing his eyes on the cloudy sky. He was ready. He was not going to embarrass himself. He could do this. 

Joseph pounded his feet off the ground.

The world sped past him. Colours, sounds, lights, everything twisting and swirling and stretching, warping around him as a prolonged shriek of terror ripped through his throat. Too fast. Too high. Too scary. He tried to scream for help, though all he could manage was an ear-piercing ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!’

His terrified scream must have been sickening, as some hibernating part of Joseph’s mind finally jolted awake, seizing control of his muscles. He thrust the edge of the broom down.

The broom slowed. The whipping winds weakened into a more casual breeze, pricking at Joseph’s vulnerable skin. His heart hammered against his chest. He was safe. Joseph was safe.

He risked a glance down. His stomach lurched, Joseph almost slipping off his broom.

Avery was no more than a dark smudge against the plain backdrop of the ground. He had to go down. Alone. 

Wasn’t he thrilled for round two of trauma. Hopefully Signor Gazzolax’s thirst for vengeance had been quenched. Otherwise… Joseph didn’t want to think about it.

@Avery Gray

Interacting with: @Joseph Sims Mentioning: N/A Date: 09/20/25

Word Count: 409

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Avery at that moment realized she had never spoken to her friend of her heritage or the fact that she was fluent in both Welsh and English thanks to her family that were adamant she be fluent in both. They had always told her it was tradition that she learn the language. Otherwise she wouldn't be fulfilling their pureblood status. Though Avery couldn't stand being of "pure blood". She did love Welsh. It always brought her closer to home when she was far from it. "Right. Sorry. I don't think I told you before that I'm originally from Swansea, Wales, but now I live in London. Though that's a long story of why for another day." Avery explained. Hoping what she said had made sense. It was always hard to explain the full story. Very few people truly understood the feeling of leaving everything behind and moving to a completely different country. Even if that country was only one train ride away from your actual home. Avery was carefully completing her last circles when a piercing scream ripped through the air. Avery froze midair. Unsure of what to do or say. What had happened? Had someone died? Was someone dying? After a quick scan of the area, Avery finally knew what had happened. Joseph. She guessed by the look on his face that it had been awhile since he had last flown on his broom. She didn't know what to do. Should she laugh it off with him or make sure he didn't kill himself. Was racing really a good idea? Questions flew through Avery's head as she decided what to do. She would respect her friend if he didn't want to race that day. She understood how hard it could be to get back on a broom after not riding for awhile. "Hey, are you okay? That didn't sound good. We don't have to race today if you don't feel like it. I don't mind." Avery said with a smile. Knowing her friend's safety and well-being were more important than a simple broom race that didn't amount to anything but some fun chaos. As Avery awaited his response, she flew closer to him. Ready to be of aid if the situation turned bad. She already knew if they did race it would be a good one. One full of chaos and entertainment for everyone watching. Avery and Joseph would be lucky if they survived in one piece.

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With a vengeful broom, miserable broom control and the courage of a wet napkin, it was a miracle that Joseph was even still alive. He clutched the broom handle tightly, hands clammy from fear. “Don’t look down. Don’t look down.” he repeated under his breath, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. He was not a bajillion feet above the ground. He was not going to fall. He was definitely not about to become human-mashed potato.

But what if he was?

“I’m fine,” he spluttered, as Avery floated up toward him. Somehow she made riding a broom look effortless. “Just… um, out of practice. Maybe Signor Gazzolax sneezed or something.” He glared down at his broom, which remained painfully silent. Silence always meant smug arrogance. Either that, or it had somehow fallen asleep midair.

“We can still race! I… uh, just gimme a moment to- uh, figure out how this broom works.” He glanced away, eyes starting to sting from the buffeting wind. His arms ached. Muscles he’d never known he had groaned from overwork. 

C’mon, Gazzolax. We’ve got a friend to beat. He gritted his teeth, then leaned forward.

Signor Gazzolax shot through the air. Wind whipped past him, sweeping back his hair into a tangled mess as everything blurred into streaks. Maybe Joseph laughed, or maybe he was shrieking, it was hard to tell. But one thing was certain - he didn’t want to stop.

“Woah-WOAH-nope-nope-nope,” he gasped, lurching to the right as he attempted a sharp turn. The broom jerked up unexpectedly, clearly determined to throw him off. Then dipped back, thankfully. He tightened his grip on Gazzolax, chest heaving. Still alive, still breathing. Joseph let out a raspy giggle. Maybe his broom had finally forgiven him for the months of neglect.

Sunlight danced across his skin as he soared through the air in a few slow, glorious circles, before returning to Avery. This time a grin lit his face.

“Well… that’s that. I think I’m ready to race.”

@Avery Gray

Interacting with: @Joseph Sims Mentioning: N/A Date: 09/20/25

Word Count: 293

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Avery grinned when Joseph said his broom had sneezed. She nearly laughed, but she regained her composure. She knew all too well how hard it was to readjust to broom riding after months of neglect. She herself had done much worse than what was happening to Joseph. She had even managed to crash more than she rode her broom the majority of the time. Avery watched as her friend soared through the air and got reacquainted with his broom. After even just a short time he looked as if he was finally getting the hang of broom riding again. Maybe this race wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe this could end out a lot better than she was expecting. Maybe she had to take the leap of faith and find out. Well, it was now or never. She waited patiently until Joseph nearly crashed. Her eyes widened in shock as he gasped and took a sharp turn. Then his broom skyrocketed. Nearly throwing him to the ground even before the race began. Though before she could say anything, Joseph had regained control and was now hovering nearby. Close enough to be within talking distance, but far enough away that if chaos ensued neither one of them would be knocked from their respective brooms. Hopefully. Avery's grin widened when Joseph was finally ready to race. So this was it. This was a matter of life or death. Well, less of the death part and more of life. No one would be dying that day if Avery could help it. "Well, let's do this. On the count of three." Avery gripped her broom tighter. "One." Was this a good idea? "Two." Definitely not a good idea. "Three!" Well, there's no turning back now.

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