Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor - Winter 2026
SPECTATOR THREAD FOR QUIDDITCH
GRYFFINDOR vs RAVENCLAW - WINTER 2026
Even amidst the wintry mix that would batter the gear of the players who entered, that would bump against the murmured Pluvia Velos of spectators, people still wanted to see wizards' most famous game: Quidditch.Date: 7 February 2026
Time: 10:00
Weather: Cloudy and cold, with intermittent freezing rain.
Quidditch would be nothing without its famous players. Everyone knew that! Students leaned forward in the stands, eyes peeled, to wait for the glamorous introductions of today's players.
There were a few taps.
Then: 'Is this thing on?'
Then, finally: 'Okay, here we go. Ladies and gentlemen! Wizards, witches and wix alike! Thank you for braving this wintry storm to watch the riveting Ravenclaws and the gallant Gryffindors! Who will win, who will win...?'
As the players entered the pitch in blurs of blue and red, the clouds ahead decided it was fine time to spit out some freezing rain. It would patter against the players' gear and likely be a proper nuisance for the spectators peering on from the stands. Anyone trying to pair Omnioculars with a scarf would likely be seeing through foggy lenses; anyone wearing glasses would surely have it worse.
'Right. On team Ravenclaw, we've got... drumroll, please... Charlie Jacobsen at the hoops; Athanatos, Brook and Greymond vying for the Quaffle; Moussa and Vetra with the bats; and team captain Aly Salinger searching for the Snitch. Looks like Damien Dragonclaw, Ophelia Northwell, Mikey Forville and captain Aston Beckett will be cheering them on from below!'
Some whooping echoed from the stands. A smattering of applause was muffled by mittens.
'And for the Gryffindors, Kora Eliot will be guarding the hoops, with Holista, Montgomery and Everhart playing Chaser. Captains Zhang and Smith, Beaters. And Aodhan Shaw is playing Seeker. Cheering them on from below are Oonagh Brown, Avery Gray, Frederick Buckley and Alphonse Toussaint.'
The freezing rain would stop for a few moments and then pick up in intensity. A frigid breeze whipped across the pitch.
'Alright, everyone, places! And those in the stands, don't forget to cheer on your favourite team!'
Then, the whistle would blow, and the game would begin.
This is a spectator thread for the Quidditch Game. 200 words is still the requirement for all threads. Please remember that you are not able to interface with the players on the pitch from a spectator thread.
Link to Game Thread: here
Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor - Winter 2026
Open to interactions
Natasha came to the stadium excitedly. It was the first Quidditch match she had seen! She was so excited for the game to start. She hurried up the stairs to find a seat. A lot of people were already there. They had little flags and some even painted their faces red or blue. Natasha hadn't thought to do something like that. Was she not a good supporter?
She decided not to worry about it and took a seat somewhere up the stands. The game would start soon. It was really cold in the stadium and Natasha had to huddle up in her cloak. How did the player play in this weather? Natasha wasn't a very sporty person, but she was a fan of Quidditch. At least, she thought she was.
As more and more people filled the stands, the commentator started announcing the teams. She didn't really know most of the people on the teams. She was just here to watch. The teams filed out on the pitch. Cheers of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw echoed throughout the stands.
"GO GRYFFINODR!" Natasha yelled.
In the beginning of the school year, she hadn't really wanted to be a Gryffindor, but know she was proud to be one. A breeze blew through the stadium and Natasha shivered. Hopefully it wouldn't get too cold.
Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor - Winter 2026
| C | date: 7/2/2026 location: Quidditch Stadium |
abilities: lovely creature dialogue: #0a2a28 mentioned: @Esme Hestridge @Harlan Montgomery Open for interactions |
C |
| CV | Quidditch, or any other sport for that matter, awoke no thrill in Camille. Many of the boys he knew were fanatics on and off the pitch, yet he had never seen the appeal. When Ravenclaw was playing against Gryffindor, he had not planned to participate. Even as he, against all odds, walked down towards the pitch, coat hood pulled over his head to protect himself from the winter wind, he still questioned what had gotten into him. Knowing Harlan was playing that morning, and the number of times he’d made a point of forcing him into appreciation of the sport, a task that had failed each and every time, Camille had a strong itch to watch and pray for his downfall. While not necessarily his downfall off the broom, he wanted to see his upperclassman eat his own pride, and if he took a beating in the process, Camille supposed that would make for a more interesting spectatorship. Regardless, he doubted one game would change his overall attitude towards the sport. Arriving alone, he climbed the ladder to the spectator booth to claim a spot for himself and Esme, in case she decided to join him. Obviously, it would have been too humiliating to watch alone, even if he technically had the major population of his house to keep him company. Obviously, they didn’t count, hence why he’d suggested the two of them watch it together. In this kind of weather, there were only so many activities to entertain themselves with. It came as no surprise to him that his favorite Slytherin had been hesitant when he’d brought up the event in an off-handed comment. The part-veela did not enjoy sports except when it came to chess, another thing they shared. He wouldn’t count on her attendance, even if he hoped dearly that he wouldn’t be sitting through an hour or more of quidditch without a second source of entertainment. Complaining about the players was half of the appeal, Camille reckoned. Standing in an unfortunate spot, an eager-looking Ravenclaw boy laid eyes on the scarf around his neck, bearing the house colors. The only reason he wore his house colors was solely due to the weather, and that it happened to be his only option, not because he was here as an eager fan. The boy didn’t realize the difference. He laid an arm around his shoulders and screamed, “GO RAVENCLAWSS!!!”, expecting some kind of mutual excitement from Camille. The only response he received in return was a disgusted side-eye, before he shoved him off, promising to find a seat as far away from these hooligans as possible. Where was Esme when you needed her? Camille asked himself, taking one last glance around the bleachers before taking a seat. Alas, there was still no sign of the Slytherin when he sat down on the bleachers at the very back, just in time for the Ravenclaw head of house to announce the start of the game. So far uninterested, Camille crossed his arms, watching with his signature frown when the players were introduced. With the exception of two, all of the Ravenclaw players were people he’d never heard of, or interacted with previously. Damien sat on the bench, which was how he found out his damned mentor was on the quidditch team. When the attention turned towards the Gryffindor players and Harlan’s name was spoken into the microphone, Camille rolled his eyes. Surprisingly, he recognized more names on the Gryffindor team: Frederick, Rosaline and the name Alphonse rang a distant bell. He vaguely recalled hearing a girl from last year's ballet intensive talking about a boy at Hogwarts with the same name. Initially, he had been worried Harlan would somehow be able to pinpoint him in the crowd and consequently remind him for the next of the year how he’d put their differences aside to come to watch him play, but the older boy seemed too transfixed to notice anything at all. Perhaps he wasn't paying attention. The game began, and without any prior knowledge of the rules and game mechanics, it was difficult to keep track of the unfolding events. A few minutes into the game, he largely gave up, yet still found enough engagement in him to smirk when Jessamine called out the Gryffindor team's incompetence. "What's this? Gryffindor is completely ignoring the Quaffle. Don't they want points...?" Given the fact that Harlan appeared to be in a chaser role made it so much more hilarious to imagine all that focus and bragging amounting to nothing. After that failure, Camille found himself clapping along, mildly proud of his House when Ravenclaw scored a multitude of points, practically free. Miraculously, it only got better from there. Jessamine’s next comment about Harlan’s ‘floating around’ and lack of action made Camille practically shake in his seat, unable to stop himself from bursting into laughter. At this rate, he could kind of start to see the appeal. |
CV |
Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny
Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor - Winter 2026
Iris watched the game of quidditch happily and is in awe of the beaters specifically. She can't wait to one day be on the team herself. She focused so much on accuracy and training. She wants to absorb everything that she can from the players on the field today. She watches everyone closely, her eyes hurt from the amount of flicking she does to keep track of the moments of all of the Gryffindor players. But no matter what she keeps looking back at the beaters on both teams. Maybe she could learn something for when she tries out for the team.
She loudly cheers. She wants her house to hear her. She wants to show spirit for Gryffindor. She wasn't sure what to think about being a Gryffindor at first. Especially since her family really expected her to get into Slytherin, however, she is really starting to enjoy being a lion even being surprisingly prideful of the fact that she is one.
She cheers and screams so loud for her house that her throat begins to hurt but she doesn't stop. She even stand and cheers. She can't wait. She can tell that this is going to be a good game. She feels very strongly that Gryffindor will win. She feels it deep in her gut.
WC: 217
Open for interactions!
She loudly cheers. She wants her house to hear her. She wants to show spirit for Gryffindor. She wasn't sure what to think about being a Gryffindor at first. Especially since her family really expected her to get into Slytherin, however, she is really starting to enjoy being a lion even being surprisingly prideful of the fact that she is one.
She cheers and screams so loud for her house that her throat begins to hurt but she doesn't stop. She even stand and cheers. She can't wait. She can tell that this is going to be a good game. She feels very strongly that Gryffindor will win. She feels it deep in her gut.
WC: 217
Open for interactions!
⟡ sta: 5 ⟡ eva: 10 ⟡ str: 10 ⟡
⟡ wis: 3 ⟡ arc: 2 ⟡ acc: 10 ⟡ | Scarlet looks like blood anyways.
Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor - Winter 2026
| E | ✧  ✧location. the quidditch stadium. date. 7th of february, 10 in the morning. mentions. @Camille De Varenne.  If Camille was trying to make a joke, it wasn’t a very good one. Esme was sure that he was aware she did not care for sports. She had made her distaste for Quidditch, and really, flying as a whole, rather clear — she complained about flying as a class a truly inordinate and almost disgraceful amount of times. The feeling of wind absolutely destroying her perfectly styled hair was not something she found as pleasant as people lauded, the school brooms had given her splinters on more than one occasion, and overall, the experience often made her broom-sick: nauseous to a point she never wanted to experience again. The Hogwarts curriculum made it impossible to avoid touching a broom entirely, of course, which she lamented, but she did not have to attend any sports games. Additionally, Esme would be lying if the idea of attending a Ravenclaw game did not seem… well, like another joke. She knew Camille held a strong distaste for his own house — and though she no longer despised being a Slytherin herself, she still held some yearning towards the house of blue and bronze. Even after her tenure as a Slytherin prefect, there was something she envied in Camille’s own assigned house: the status that came with being universally confirmed as intelligent and witty. Camille certainly deserved his own placement, and she (reluctantly) agreed that the ambitious nature of Slytherin did also suit her, but that did not mean it wasn’t a little mortifying to admit to herself that she was the ugliest kind of jealous. Especially knowing Camille himself wasn’t fond of his housemates, and spoke of it extensively. Camille seemed to understand that most of the time. They had come to a mutual understanding, one Esme did not think needed to be verbalised: sports, bar chess and some other artistic disciplines, were boring, and as both their houses were full of unbecoming brutes, house pride wasn’t high on either of their priority lists. Hence, Esme was incredibly confused — and a little disappointed, really — when Camille invited her to see the Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor match set to be happening soon. She expressed her hesitation, obviously. Camille was a rather kindred spirit: Esme did not feel the need to cover up her antipathy towards Quidditch, the idea of cheering on Ravenclaw, or the idea of seeing a bunch of Gryffindor brutes fall off their brooms. He seemed receptive, and understanding, which she appreciated; and so, Esme was rather convinced that she would not be attending the game. February in Scotland was cold, there was constant windchill and wintry mix, and she really could not care less about the event in question if she was trying her best. She told Camille she would consider it. Unfortunately for her, Esme found, through her consideration, that she cared about her friend more than she didn’t care about Quidditch. It was a mix of factors, really. The most significant of which was that, all things considered, Camille was indeed, well, a kindred spirit. The idea of watching a quidditch match for a house she was not a part of got a lot less dreadful with the knowledge that she would be there with a friend she could complain to. Additionally, her rather lackluster first semester made Esme feel as if she was perhaps neglecting some parts of her education. Academically, she was succeeding — she had been made prefect in less than two full months, for crying out loud — but since the burn out that came with it and stepping down in December, her days were… a bit monotonous. She didn’t miss constant patrols or having to be on call for professor Sauber to dump errand work onto her, of course, but left without her usual duties, the month or so after holiday break felt sluggish. Esme consulted her parents on the matter, and came to a decision once their letter had returned. Perhaps a good opportunity to complain, and a day spent with a friend, would do her well. And so, she found herself, at 10 AM on a Saturday, walking through the grounds to the Quidditch Stadium. She was surrounded by a crowd of sapphire and ruby, bronze and gold in equal measure at first — then, swallowed up by the blue once she split off to get to the Ravenclaw stands. Esme herself opted not to sport her own house colors, deciding it would be ostentatious, and, Merlin forbid, gauche, to be spotted so out of place at an official event. Instead, besides a simple but warm outfit with a black skirt and comfortable shoes, she wore her favorite blue sweater, peeking out from underneath her good coat. The color was far too muted to match the official Ravenclaw garb, but it was the most she would be willing to do for the occasion. She wasn’t here to cheer anyone on, after all. The stands were awfully loud. Esme had almost begun to regret attending: younger and older years alike seemed to be intent on making the most ruckus possible. If the height they were at wasn’t making her nauseous, the awful mix of humidity of the crowd and winter wind was soon going to. Besides, Esme thought as her nose wrinkled, someone in this school really needed to teach teenage boys about the wonders of soap. She had half a mind to leave, before, finally, a few minutes after the announcer called the start of the game, she spotted her saving grace — her friend, and perhaps the one boy her age who actually knew how to groom himself; a trait she had come to appreciate tenfold in the past ten minutes. “Camille!” Esme made her way over quickly. Merlin, but this place was loud. “Did I miss anything important?”  wc. 969 notes. first esme post in 2026 how we feeling!! please owl for interactions ♥ ✧✦✧ |
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thales amaro. second year castelobruxo quidditch. |
katherine townsend. professor of charms, former thunderbird. |
Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor - Winter 2026
| C | date: 7/2/2026 location: Quidditch Stadium |
abilities: lovely creature dialogue: #0a2a28 mentioned: @Esme Hestridge Open for interactions |
C |
| CV | Finding a rare sense of enjoyment for the sport he’d previously damned, he was engrossed in the events, though only when Harlan failed. “Camille!” A familiar voice called out, barely audible through the loud spectators booth. Glancing in the direction he’d heard the sweet pitch of Esme’s voice, he beamed at the approaching blonde, standing up to wave her over. The laugh he’d just had at Harlan's expense still lingered on his tongue, leaving him in an uncharacteristically cheerful, if malicious, mood. As an added bonus, seeing that his friend had decided to come after all heightened the atmosphere immensely, turning the sweaty, uncivilized sports game into something almost refined in her company, with an emphasis on almost. As gorgeous and classy Esme Hestridge was, she could not work miracles. “Did I miss anything important?” Esme wondered when she’d joined him. Brushing a hand against the small of her back, he took a step to the side to make space in the stands without having to step on each others’ feet. “You did. Montgomery just made an absolute fool out of himself.” Camille’s voice brimmed with barely contained excitement as he glanced back at the pitch, in case another blunder unfolded. Like a prophecy, Jessamine provided entertaining commentary on how Gryffindor continued to ignore the quaffle for reasons beyond everyone else. Previously floating uselessly, his associate finally made an effort to knock someone off their broom, though it was not done with much finesse, earning him a penalty lap. Clearly, Camille’s priorities did not lie with the scores, though Ravenclaw was at a clear advantage, currently one hundred to zero. Within the next round, Ravenclaw increased their lead astronomically at one hundred and sixty points. To his delight, Gryffindor had not managed to score a single goal. So far, Camille understood enough of what was said, only because of the commentator's ample feedback. If he’d had to rely on his own knowledge and eyes alone, the majority of the game would have been ancient runes to decipher. “Other than that, you didn’t miss much. Ravenclaw is in the lead while the Gryffindor players seem to think goals will be made for them,” Camille informed her with a shrug, sounding less interested as he’d done at the mention of his childhood friend's failures. Hopefully, it was enough info to keep her in the loop, though her declared detestment for the sport made him believe she would find little interest regardless. When the action he’d come for slowed down with Montgomery being forced to do his penalty lap, he turned his attention back to Esme, who despite herself and her obvious lack of interest in the matter had decided to join him. Whether it was for his company or that she happened to have nothing better planned, he did not know. Only that she seemed to have been more restless, or perhaps tired was the right word, since resigning her prefect badge. If you asked Camille, truthfully, he thought she’d finally come to her senses by handing in her badge. The Slytherin had done a phenomenal job during her service, no doubt, but no amount of imagined pride and honour could make it possibly worth all the late nights and early mornings for no payment in return. “I’m glad you came, otherwise I would have had to share space with the likes of those.” Scowling, he nodded in the direction of a group of particularly loud and obnoxious boys, cheering for their team with little regard for anyone around them. “It’s impressive how some seemingly have no care in the world of how others perceive them.” In this case, filthy and uncivilized. Apart from the obvious, the faint trace of sweat and days of unwashed hair in the air surrounding them, impossible to pinpoint to a single source but rather a collective aura, really set the expectations of what watching quidditch meant. |
CV |
Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny
Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor - Winter 2026
| E | ✧ ✧mentions. @Camille De Varenne. The stands were continuing to be far, far too loud for her tastes — really, Esme would have left minutes ago if she hadn’t found Camille — but her friend’s face lit up in a very Camille-brand style of glee mixed with schadenfreude had a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He stood, helping her to a seat saved for her, and Esme took it gratefully, crossing her legs at the ankles as she listened (or, again, tried to, over all the noise) to what he was saying. The players zipped through the Quidditch field with speed and… well, some more grace than others. She had little knowledge of the game or its rules, beyond the absolute basics she picked up on through home scrimmages with her cousins — but those were certainly on the informal side, more chasing each other around on kids brooms, and Esme only participated in few and far between. She had a history of getting terribly broom-sick: a drop in her stomach that always foretold a bout of nausea that had her scrambling off the stem and running towards her mother. The slight embarrassment of the memories made her thankful that she got over it before having to take Flying classes here. “Montgomery?” Esme queried, leaning in to hear Camille better. She raised an eyebrow, trying to make out the robe colors of the players currently flying above the pitch. The name brought forth some souvenir of December — the Gala guest list, if she recalled right. Perhaps mr Montogomery had made an appearance; she did not remember actually speaking to him, however. “He’s playing for… Gryffindor?” she guessed. If Camille had mentioned it prior, she did not remember. As Camille mentioned, she did not appear to have missed much. The scoreboard was firmly in Ravenclaw’s favour, by a comical amount, really: one hundred to naught. The commentary ringing out through the pitch, unmuffled even by the roar of the crowd (which, predictably, remained untamed and undignified as ever), was helping. The only reason she was able to pick Montgomery out, now, was because in his — successful — attempt to throw another player off their broom, he had earned himself a penalty lap. In the meantime, Ravenclaw had upped their score even further, to a staggering one-sixty, and Gryffindor still hadn’t scored a single point. It was shaping up to be a true slaughter for the lions. Admittedly, the game was turning out to be more interesting than Esme had thought it would be. The atmosphere was still… rather suffocatingly cacophonous, to be sure, but there was an enjoyment to be found in poking fun at Gryffindor’s failures together with her friend. Watching Quidditch players, too, did not provoke in her the bouts of sickness she had been (mildly, but still) concerned about. Quite the opposite, in fact: the visual of the more skilled players whisking through the air with an elegance that came from clear skill and confidence on a broom was proving to be more fetching than she had expected. It wasn’t, of course, enough to turn this into little more than a blip on her social calendar, but she could concede that perhaps, broom sports held an appeal for some. Pulled away from the game by the sound of her friend’s voice, Esme turned to look at Camille and smiled. Despite her earlier reluctance, it was… alright. Though indeed, it was because of the sentiment that it seemed she seemed to share with Camille — as he had expressed, it would have been far more of a nightmare to have to watch this while sitting next to the rabble of foetid, overexcited students. “Impressive,” Esme echoed with a brief laugh crossing her face, along with a discreet eye roll. “I would venture to call it, ah, audacious, even. The confidence.” She briefly looked to the rather zealous crowds, then back at Camille, a harbour in the storm of frenzied second-grade Quidditch fans. It had been nice, she decided after all, for him to invite her. Still a joke, of course — but a nice one. Quieter, though hopefully still audible over all the stadium’s noise, she added, “I’m glad I came, too.” The game continued playing out, and their attention turned back to the absolute masterclass in destroying an opponent that Ravenclaw was providing. The score climbed to a staggering three hundred and ten on the eagles’ side, to a pitiful forty for the lions — and with it, Esme’s mood climbed, too; a weight perhaps not entirely lifted off her shoulders, but one lessened by the camaraderie shared with Camille. wc. 764 notes. apologies for the necro </3 finishing this one up! ✧✦✧ |
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thales amaro. second year castelobruxo quidditch. |
katherine townsend. professor of charms, former thunderbird. |