Closed spectator HUFFLEPUFF vs. SLYTHERIN - WINTER 2024

F I N N E G A Nx⳧xC O N N O R

☙ Hufflepuff vs Slytherin, 11th of February 2024 ❧

The next morning he dragged himself to the race track. Numb legs remained numb no matter how hard he stomped up the road. Up the road and down the hill, through a deadfall of grass and half-rotted dead branches, up, down, up, down through the lurching shadows of snow-covered pines.

Towering stands had been erected, looming over the race track. He trudged up the aged woodwork and shuffled past two people. One large with frizzy hair, a big nose, a big mouth, much eyebrow, the other small and pale and round. Both wore green and silver scarfs that whipped about their faces.

"They should've called off the race," the big one said. "It's bad flying weather."

"I still can't believe we let Gryffindor win," the other grumbled.

"Lowe and Alptraum won't be around forever, and let's be real, they're all that counts. I'm telling you, Slytherin just needs a little time."

"And a different captain-"

Finnegan slowed, bent down and pretended to tie his shoelaces.

"-someone more experienced. Didn't Henry get replaced by McCall too? We haven't won a game for ages. I've told my parents that I'm not sure they're actually Slytherins, you know, they don't seem to want to win, I'm like so embarassed when I have to tell my friends from Beauxbatons."

"We didn't exactly lose against Gryffindor last spring."

"The miasma? That hardly counts. I think I might prefer seeing that again over slamming into trees or throwing up slugs all over the track, a draw is still better than losing."

A waft of hot chocolate caused Finnegan's head to turn and cease his eavesdropping. Once he'd chased down the young witch selling hot drinks and biscuits, he squeezed himself between two senior students and eyed the track below for a sign of blonde @June Selwyn and a familiar mop of brown @George Henry. One the one hand, he'd like to see June lead her team to a much-awaited victory, he knew she was really trying. On the other hand, getting to see @Colin McCoire's sour face after a crushing defeat would be a victory all in of itself. The last time he'd seen George, the boy had looked like he desperately needed a win in his life, so perhaps he should be cheering for Hufflepuff after all. Ultimately, he decided the best thing to do was to just sit, watch, and relish in the fact that he didn't need to be out there on his broom, freezing to death.

Cupping his hot drink with both hands, Finnegan eagerly waited for the players to enter the field.

Waiting for the game to start, open to (spectator) interaction(s).

the rat and the hound u l y s s e s —d r a k e . ——— date. [ 02/11/23 ]—— word count. [ 300 ] ———

	Ulysses mumbled a concoction of swear words and incoherent muttering as he pulled on his large winter jacket finding his way to the Broom Racing stands. It was a day after his glorious unofficial Quidditch Game and the first year really was at a crossroads on if he enjoyed the true brutality of being a Beater or if there was something about this Broom Racing that he wanted to explore a bit more. He hadn't recognized the announcer at all but there were a few familiar faces in the crowd, one particular ferret that he noticed at the Leveret's dinner party. So, this thing between him and the blonde Broom Racer seemed to be much more than just friendly banter and hangouts between the two of them. Ulysses decided not to think too much on it, settling himself a few rows behind and eagerly awaiting for the start of the race. His eyes spotted a few repping their black and yellow scarves, a couple of green and silver ones as well while Uly wore a beanie to represent his Slytherin pride and thick warm gloves. The match started with a fury as Uly noticed the oddest thing when a certain blonde haired captain of the team who he heard was punctual as ever, could be seen rushing her way to the starting line and from where he was sitting, it seemed like she glanced directly in their direction for a moment before Uly looked down at Finn with a strange and irrational anger surging through his being at the thought of him messing with the Slytherin Broom Racing team. " Get down. You're distracting the players, Muggle." Uly leaned forward to playfully shove Finn, perhaps with a bit too much force and less jest than his words could be heard with.

mentions. @Finnegan Conner

notes. no notes chef kiss

Date: Reducio February 11, 2024	Interacting with : Reducio @Genevieve Delacourt
Outfit: Reducio Impeccable Slytherin uniform, Slytherin cloak, peacoat, scarf, mittens, earmuffs Hairstyle: link Self-made tulip earrings: link	Notes: Reducio Speech: #3CB371 Thoughts: italics

Despite how cold it was, Kaitlyn wanted to see this unofficical broom race. With that in mind, she bundled up warmly for this event. Her black peacoat, pink earmuffs, and pink gloves. All over her Slytherin uniform underneath her jacket. While she had Hufflepuff friends, none of them were playing in the game, and as such, she was going to root for her own house. That being said, she was still sympathetic to their team, and not one to name call. As with her typical demeanor, she was typically pretty silent.

As Kaitlyn climbed the stairs of the stands, her blue eyes scanning for an empty seat. Or maybe one with a friendly face next to it. Whichever didn’t particularly matter to her. She wasn’t a fan of house rivalries, and often found the competition associated with it rather boring. At least, that was her opinion. One that she rarely voiced, knoiwng how easy it was for the other students to become entangled in their own minds.

With a slight huff, Kaitlyn stopped when she noticed a certain Hufflepuff in the stands. “Hi Genny!” She called out, enthusiastically. She slid into a seat next to her friend. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you? I'm excited for this race.” She said with a smile.

Reducio

Note: 216 words

open to interactions

· · ─▪───────────── ·· ─────────────▪─ · ·

• REPRESENT, SLYTHERIN REPRESENT •

“What stands in the way becomes the way forward.”

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11th Feb | Quidditch
Avery's Hex #136b5c

─▪──────────────▪─

┏		┓
	----- Avery had been idle in the bleachers, distant as ever. Distant probably wasn’t the word. Perhaps he was just comfortable in his own company, especially since the wider student body had a penchant for disappointing him in ways he literally couldn’t conceive. Attendance was practically mandatory, especially since the last of June’s races had ended so violently. The pair had been growing closer, and it seemed only right to support a friend from the sidelines; to stand guard and prepared for trouble should it look to rear its ugly head. Avery’s dark eyes had been forward, arms crossed over the fur-lined wax jacket that he wore to protect from the cold. They shifted to the corner of his periphery when he heard a familiar boy shout towards a few stands below, so he turned his head in interest, pulling his chin from the house pride scarf that was wrapped around his neck and tucked into his jacket. Ulysses Drake was a notable, most of all because of his family’s invite to Moredell over Christmas, but also because he had the balls to say what needed to be said. Avery couldn’t help but grin, but he was thus far disinterested in interacting with the stunted mop of mousebrown mess that Uly had admonished, though that didn’t stop him from laughing in support. Social signals were important and all. wc: 229
┗		┛

Interacting with no one, not really anyway.

F I N N E G A Nx⳧xC O N N O R

☙ Hufflepuff vs Slytherin, 11th of February 2024 ❧

"Hey!" He turned, scowled, and seized the boy up with his eyes. Dark hair, dark brows, foul mood, sullen eyes, not a hair out of place... he'd seen this one before. Ulysses Drake, first-year, impeccable only in appearance. Why were all the people he'd raced against such sore losers? First Colin had gotten up in his face over nothing, demanding a duel, and now this one felt the need to shove him from behind. Being pushed around was one thing, but being called a muggle at the same time made it perfectly clear why the Slytherin had chosen to pick on him.

"I am sitting down," he replied hotly. He had half a mind to turn back around in his seat, watch the game, and let it slide. Turning the other cheek was the right and noble thing to do, but right and noble had gone out the window the moment Drake had insisted on calling him a muggle. It was like a challenge, a question that needed answering. Calling the lanky boy a wizard however didn't have the right ring to it. He stood up to face the boy, stuffed his gloved hands into his pockets and found the handle of his trusty wand there.

Squinting slightly, he spotted another familiar face just past Ulysses's ear. A pale face framed by black hair, chin half-buried in what looked like a brand new Slytherin scarf. As much as Avery Leveret clung to the shadows, whenever he did want to be seen, he was impossible to miss.

Ever since their spat in the dungeons, an uneasy, silent truce had formed between them, each staying out of the other's way, yet they couldn't avoid crossing paths forever. At times he had considered going up to the prideful boy, to clear the air before he could make true on his promise of revenge. For the longest time he had thought that Avery had intended to land him in detention, there had certainly been plenty of eye-witnesses who could testify in the boy's favor. Then again, it was not unlikely they'd have to share in any punishment and perhaps Avery just couldn't stomach admitting having been bested.

Finnegan averted his gaze, retrained his eyes on Ulysses Drake and quietly stood on the tip of his toes to minimize the unfortunate difference between them. "I guess we can swap seats," he grumbled. He angled himself sideways, seeming to make way for the Slytherin boy. But he had chosen his move carefully, obscuring both his wand and his face from the other's view in the same motion.

"Lubricus," he muttered under his breath, the tip of his wand pointed squarely at where he had been seated moments before.

Making Ulysses pay for his insolence.

the rat and the hound u l y s s e s —d r a k e . ——— date. [ 02/11/23 ]—— word count. [ 315 ] ———

	Ulysses stood towering over Finnegan, his looming presence not quite enough to deter a lion cub from its idiotic notion of bravery and courage at all times. Unlike Gryffindorks, Uly was’t afraid to admit defeat if winning seemed unattainable but that wasn’t the case right now. Finn turned around with his disheveled hair flopping about, a gaze that narrowed but still gleamed in courageous hope and a braveness that Uly just wanted to constrict out of him until all he felt was absolute dread and fear. “ Merlin, you’re slow. You’re distracting the players, idiot. ” There was no vitriol in his voice, he hadn’t hated Finn for existing, but still he felt the need for revenge after the rock slinging and his embarrassing display during the unofficial broom race. It seemed as though the other wasn’t going to put up too much of a fight, the older wizard tilting so that Uly could block the distraction and finally, just maybe, Slytherin would win their first race in who knows how long. The next event happened in what felt like an instant as Ulysses heard the mumble of a word until his feet seemed to land on something icy as his legs spread wide and the boy’s eyes widened in utter shock. “ What the hell! ” The words bombastic and loud echoed for a moment as the first year Slytherin fell backwards with his hands sprawled, fingertips looking for something to grip themselves onto while trying to still keep his balance in the meantime. Without a doubt, Ulysses would be falling but he felt the catch of something against his index finger as it was evident that he’d be falling and catching whatever social embarrassment that came with such a public display of failure. Did Finnegan get caught into his own trap or did Ulysses fall on his ass alone? Only time would tell.

mentions. @Finnegan Conner

notes. it's going down, i'm yelling timber

F I N N E G A Nx⳧xC O N N O R

☙ Hufflepuff vs Slytherin, 11th of February 2024 ❧

Sweet victory lasted only a second. Ulysses had just finished spewing his hatred when his flawless, polished shoes hit the ice and slipped. A cry sounded, limbs flailed, a vicious claw dug into his shoulder, dragging him down with it. "Shi-"

Too late. The world tilted underfoot, a blur of arms and legs and snow raced past. Flailing, they rolled down the stands like a limbed snowball. Up was down, down was up, and the only thing to hold on to in his mad tumble was the wretched Slytherin boy.

THUD.

He couldn't tell whose body had hit the back of the wooden bench first or how far they'd slid down or if the mouthful of fabric in his face was his own coat, that of Drake or belonging to some innocent bystander. He didn't care. He jumped up, grimaced. Twisted ankle? Nothing he couldn't push away, nothing he hadn't already felt in spades during Quidditch. Pain was temporary, vengeance was not.

A thin dusting of powdery snow had glued to his hair and mouth. He spat to the side and wiped it away with the back of his hand. He ignored the chilling trickle of snow melting on his skin, trickling down the nape of his neck and arms. Bastard wasn't going to get away with this! For one frightful instant he thought he'd lost his wand on the way down, then realized he still held it in his hand, miraculously still in one piece.

Fire. Petrification. Snakes. Slugs. Like a swarm of angry bees the curses and their incantations raced through his mind. What the hell was Drake's problem? He had to have been seeking trouble, had to have wanted to start a fight! He can bloody well get one. Finnegan knew he had to be quick on the draw. Missing seemed nearly impossible at this range but he still remembered all too well how Avery had dodged his disarming spell with just a few feet between them. Leave it to Slytherins to slip away at the last second like the eels they were.

He had no eye for bystanders, no eye for the game, no eye for that other Slytherin, high above, surely looking down. Consequences be damned. It was Drake who had made this bed of nails and now had to lay in it.

"Flipendo!"

A jet of red light hit the now less-than-impeccable Slytherin square in the chest, knocking him backwards once again.

Rolls were done in a private server that Ulysses' writer also has access to. I did not plan for this violence. This is all young Mr. Drake's fault.

the rat and the hound u l y s s e s —d r a k e . ——— [ H P : 7 2 5 / 9 0 0 ]———— date. [ 02/11/23 ]—— word count. [ 289 ] ———

	Ulysses hadn't ever gotten into a real, proper fight before despite his attitude and willingness to buck up against anyone willing to catch an attitude with him. As he tumbled, limbs intertwined with the irritant as elbows jostled into each other until they landed at the very bottom of the stairs. Ulysses with a haste and fury he hadn't felt stood up quickly as he was blinded in rage looking at the Gryffindor with a desire to decimate and destroy. The young snake barely gained back his composure and balance until he was sent flying once again and like a hard shove his body slammed against the top level railing folding Uly's body in half as he let out a loud audible grunt in pain. " You rat. " he spat out, this time his energy shifted as blood began to drip from his bottom lip from and Uly tasted the iron against his tongue while his eyes widened narrowing onto the second year. Instead, he decided to lunge at the other with full force attempting to punch him directly in the jaw instead of pulling out his wand. What good what that do in this moment. In this moment, he knew that he needed to pull it together because he was at a major disadvantage with each tom, dick, and muggle having a wand and an arsenal of spells at their mercy when Uly still had issues with the simpliest of spells. Quickly, Uly threw that thought out as it didn't serve him in this moment and instead relied solely on instinct to move him forward. Ulysses was like a bull seeing red and it seemed as though neither would stop unless someone intervened or the other simply went unconscious.

mentions. @Finnegan Conner

notes. alexa play hiss by megan the stallion