Closed I Challenge you to a...Race pv George

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It was clear at this point that George was not taking it easy, or messing around. That the Hufflepuff not only loved racing, but was good at it. As Monica continued to soar through the sky, she felt a twinge of regret, her pride had told her she stood a chance...however reality had a very different idea of how this race was going to go. Now she stood at risk of being laughed at, disregarded as a dumb younger year... That was always the worst. Losing, be so sure of yourself until it is proven that you are not as great as you think you are.

The finish line was rapidly approaching, Monica could see there was no way she was catching up to George, but as she signed she resorted to at least finishing the race well. Perhaps her biggest accomplishment was simply not dying during this race.

She watched as a head of her George lowered closer to the ground, she did the same, steading herself on the broom as she began he descent... however a great gust of wind billowed about, and Monica could feel herself shake, but she was able to hold steady, it was something that she worked on a lot while playing Quidditch which was staying on your broom no matter the wind or the dodging that you had to do, however it seemed George had a very different experience, being knocked about by the wind before crashing to the ground. Monica could nearly keep herself from laughing as she gracefully landed at the finish line.

George quickly spoke up about his speed, as if that was the reason his landing was less than perfect. Monica smiled at him, "Well... I suppose that makes sense." She reached out her hand to shake his, "You are quite a good flyer... I didn't stand a chance at all."

Hearing him comment on her being a pretty good, she felt herself grinning more, "You know, I held up better than I thought I would, and you know what....I'll be the first to admit that racing is way more intense than I assumed it to be. I am rather impressed with how fast you can go while being as steady and aware of your opticals. It is quite a rush being up in the sky, and you only goal is faster." She leaned on her broom, only to quickly stand up straight remembering Georges advice earlier to not do that. She opted instead to twist her fingers through her hair... not knowing what to say next, but not wanting the conversation to end here.

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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @George Henry |

George extended a hand to shake Monica's, paying no mind to the chunks of earth that were clinging to his sleeve and stuck to his fingers where he'd impacted the ground. Maybe he would have had to rub her nose in the loss if she'd been less humble, but her immediate deference to his flying skill assured George that there was no reason to be embarrassed about his landing. When she started to slouch on her broom, however, George gave her a death glare - followed by a curt nod of approval when she stopped putting pressure on the delicate bristles. Gosh, all these non-jocks had no idea how to take care of their equipment!

"Yeah! People don't take broom racing seriously enough, in my opinion. They think that slinging quaffles around a quidditch pitch is the only way to get real excitement on a broom - in my opinion, a broom race is a much better way," George said, as a matter of fact. He felt much like he had on the day of his fateful detention, like a professor guiding the younger students on the right path... the path being of course that broom racing was the superior broom sport. "That was nothing compared to a real broom race though. In a real one, you'd have, like, a whomping willow, stampeding erumpents, and like, a ton of trees and smoke and stuff. It's mad!"

The hypothetical race course George was describing was almost as mad as the look in his eyes as he imagined it. The lethality of a Broom Race was the greater part of the fun of it. Knowing that you're racing through these death defying obstacles... but nobody was really going to die. It made excellent practice for the obstacles one often faced at Hogwarts.

"So... um..." George said, giving a queer look to the girl as she stood there and twirled her hair. His heart had begun to slow down, and he realized that barring the race, he didn't really have any idea of the little Slytherin in front of him.

"Feeling a bit more humble now? Might serve you well. Everyone likes tearing down a cocky Slytherin," he advised, with a snicker. "At least your broom held up okay, hm? As well as it can with you abusing its bristles, the poor thing."

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It wasn't as if the Hufflepuff was totally wrong, but Monica couldn't completely agree with his statement, 'Broom racing is a better way to get excitement.' Monica rather loved Quidditch, the thrill of facing your opponent head on, slipping past them, and the look on their face when a point was scored against them. She gave George a quizzical look, pondering to herself,"Perhaps this reflects something about him?"

Without a second thought she blurted out, "So you're not much of a team player then?" There was probably a better way of putting that, but it made someone wonder, does a person who favours racing, do so because it is more of a solo sport?
Listening to the upperclassman describe a 'real' race course, Monica couldn't help but shake her head, "Seriously! It's that intense?" The look in Georges eyes were as wild as the course he described, "Looks like I'm going to have to see a race now for myself." Pausing for a moment, Monica had a moment of clarity, "Aren't the Slytherins facing you Hufflepuffs in an upcoming race? Perhaps I might be bothered to check it out...Catch some of the action for myself" Her lips curled up in a smirk as she spoke.

Monica locked eyes with George as he asked if she felt more 'humble'. "And what on earth do you mean by that? Honestly... I don't know much of Wizard culture, but I have been picking up quite the vendetta against Slytherins... Do you other houses really have nothing better to do with your time then 'humbling' us snakes?" This was the first time Monica ever snapped back about her house. In fact... it was the first time she realized how much pride she had being a Slytherin. How it burned her up to hear others talk poorly about them, and why? Because they were cunning? Or because a few 'bad eggs' came from this house? All seemed like rather rubbish excuses to gang up on her house. Though she could disagree that George was right about one thing, it was a miracle her broom lasted... especially for how she had been caring for it....but she would never let him know about that.
"In my experience those who claim others to need humility... end up being humbled...Perhaps you'll get that during the race?" Firing back at him, "If that landing is any indication..." She noted the dirt smeared on his sleeves and hands.

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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @George Henry |

George raised an eyebrow as Monica assessed that he was not much of a team player. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. Whatever - someone with no conception of the sport of broom racing obviously had no idea of the intricacies of it. "What? It's all about playing as a team - you've got to cover for each other, and strike where the enemy is weak," George said with a casual wave of his dirty hand, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You know, like - see who's going to be able to make it to the end of the course and make sure they don't get there first. It's not just zipping forward in a line. If this were a real race I would have had you jinxed off your broom."

He lifted his broom up and laid it over his shoulder, idly turning the stick in his hand. The girl hadn't even been to see a race. How could she make judgements about it so soon? "Yes - you should come. It's going to be a good one, I think. I'm going to be commentating on the race before that, if you want to see that, too. It should be good. Hugh and Xailah are wild on the course. I haven't seen the Ravenclaws fly, though... that'll be exciting." He hoped the birds would win just so he could see the lions get humbled, but he didn't know enough about the Ravenclaw racers to have any real faith in them.

"Nobody likes Slytherin, they're literally the house of snakes. The founder was so bad the other ones literally drove him out of the school. It's sort of your legacy," George offered, with little sympathy. The only thing that actually mattered about the houses were the common room and the colors you had to wear around class. Of course, that didn't stop everyone from playing into the stereotypes. Gryffindors were loud, Slytherins were sly little snakes, and Hufflepuffs were cuddlebugs. Ravenclaws were a complete mystery. "And no, there's nothing better to do. This is school."

Any excuse to bully a child. Again rolling his eyes, George couldn't help but smirk as Monica teased him about his crash landing. George wiped a dirty palm off on his chest, leaving a dark streak behind. "It's not a beauty contest. You win if you get there first, not if you land gracefully," said George with a snicker. "You'll see."

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The fourth year spoke up with sudden girth to his voice, his passion seeping from his very being. A nerve was touched, but Monica didn't diminish her smirk, it was fun that she poked him a little, George was funny all fired up. "So the only way to win is to take out the other team? Is that what I am hearing?" She laughed a bit, "Seems to me like going fast isn't as important as just being the last man standing, I guess there is some team work in there. Though it seems a little odd to have a sport all about racing, if one could simply just be the only one left." It nearly made Monica consider joining the racing team, a sport where you could just jinx a person and win, sound right up her ally, and was the reason she got into duelling. Nothing seemed more fun than to win by simply being the last person on the field.

Not wanting to make any promises Monica simply just nodded at the proposal to check out the up coming race. It wasn't that she didn't have house spirit, but she was never one that enjoyed the spectating role. She would much rather be flying herself then watching some one else having the experience, where was the fun in sitting on the sidelines? But if there was a chance to watch Henry be put in his place by house Slytherin, perhaps this time she could make an exception.

"My legacy?" She barely noticed that she spoke these words aloud. It was odd, but true, even though her whole life, she knew nothing of the wizarding world, now she was a Slytherin. She was placed in this house, chosen by the hat due to whatever about her. Like it or not, she shared the cunning spirit that drove the Slytherin House, so their history was hers now. Monica thought back to that first day of this year, welcoming the new snakes in the common room, and the questions that came up then about the Slytherin History. Monica stood up, locking eyes with George, and took a step towards him, though she was shorter than he was, she didn't notice, she got as close to his eye-line as she could, "One thing I have learned, is a person is not defined by their family History, but are able to redeem past mistakes by learning by them." Her voice was stern, as if she were talking to a much younger child, "Should it be correct to deem a whole country as evil because of some old dead guy that did awful things while waving their flag? Or should we not judge a nation based on current actions?" She took a step back from the boy, twisting her broom in her hand, "For the year and a bit that I have been a Slytherin, I have seen nothing but kind, genuine people, that don't just take problems at face value, but find creative ways to work through them... If that makes us all cunning snakes then so be it! But I for one see people digging up old wounds simply as a means to try to take away the good that the house is." She didn't care if he responded to her, if he did, she was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't register if he even spoke or not.

George moved his broom off his shoulders, wiping his dirty palm across his shirt, bringing Monica's attention back to the present moment. Monica shook her head, "Well just be sure if your crash landing, to do it on this side of the line...." She indicated to the crossed side of the finish line, "Otherwise your crash landing will be in vain." A cool breeze whized between them, and Monica felt the chill running up her spine, "Well thank you ever so much for the race...Perhaps we should have a rematch sometime? That is if you're not afraid of loosing to a non-racer?"

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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @George Henry |