Quidditch Game Hufflepuff v Slytherin

The spectacle of a Hogwarts Quidditch match was the equivalent to a high school football game in Texas. An environment that exudes passion from both players and spectators alike, to fuel off this electric environment was a rare experience for such a young student body. A crowd like this in most cases reserved for a professional. As a boy raised by a widowed muggle mother, Thomas' appreciation for this moment likely surpassed that of your stereotype pureblood, or even half-blood that had access to the sport.

Not even in his brightest moments as a hockey player did Thomas encounter even half the audience this day provided. Though the chilled gust of winds that swept through the arena gave Thomas a familiar flair of his competitive past. It was a factor that provided the boy strength, even if he was not readily prepared to play, his heart still pounded. Despite Lestrange's many shortcomings, this was a moment his mother would look upon him and smile. For just a tick, Thomas was given a rare flash of joy.

Then @Erin Ryan happened. She always happens, dragging him down to her miserable pit of hell. From day one, snapping at his ankles, delicately working her way into his head until the slightest push was all that she'd need to draw his ire. Though with their rocky relationship came a mutual bond, to have seen and suffered a collection of events. Wherever Thomas went, Erin would follow, and vice versa. An indefinite link that could not be broken, regardless of the hateful words and stares. The other's shadow would always remain.

The boy's eyes flicked to view Erin, noticing a slight change in her appearance. He mirrored her scowl, offering an indifferent shrug to her barb. "Did you change your hair again? Looks terrible." Thomas then looked to her broom, if the boy possessed the skills he would utter a curse to make her broom slippery or riddled with splinters. Though for now he would just have to dream of making her life miserable. After all, they were on the same team for once, and after giving her a poisonous rash he would opt to stand pat this time.

Thomas found his fellow prefect, @Nico Shymane peering over at him. He wouldn't speak a word to her, only silently acknowledge with a respectful nod as the starters mounted their brooms to fly across the pitch, where as Thomas would collect his in hand and grab some bench. The one member of his team he would actively avoid the vision of was his now co-cap, @Tyranni Whitethorn. Disinterested in summoning any lingering feels of the day she robbed his innocence.

After taking a seat on Slytherin bench, Thomas viewed the opposing bench of Huffles. Their undefeated status did not deter the boy from a collection of ready insults. With Koko's robust frame, it was likely Thomas' only contribution would be to heckle the opposing team and get under their skin. Okay, so maybe it was a bit personal. A small smile formed when he saw his detention attendees seated together ( @Ami Procoppio, @Howard White) .[I am assuming the benches are within earshot. If not, feel free to just ignore his comments]. "You two look cute!" He would shout when the crowd noise died down for a moment.

Thomas then scanned his own bench, scooting over to @Flash Holmwood . "Flash." Intentionally using his first name, as he was a friend of Jack Burnett, he likely shared the opposition to the usage of first names. Though Thomas had only ever see Flash calm, and in control. Intrigued to see which buttons may push this façade off-kilter, or if he was merely an insane person. "Didn't take you for a quidditch player." He side-eyed the boy in between retrieving his journal. Thomas was still a member of the headliner with a strong focus on quidditch. Regardless of his new status as a player, he would still spectate and take notes accordingly.

Action: Riding the pine, heckling Huffles, and engaging Holmwood.

Stats: Stam: 8(11) | Str: 7(10)| Eva: 7(10) | Wis: 8(11) | Acc: 7(10) | Arc Power: 3(6)
Abilities: Evasive | Evasive x2 - 20% chance to auto-dodge
Broom: Silver Arrow - +3 to all stat categories

The day had arrived. Finally. The day Lindsey didn’t really expect to come that fast from the beginning of the term. Getting onto the team was satisfying enough already — and becoming a first string was even more exciting and surprising. She was young, not even thirteen (or you could say just twelve for seven months), and inexperienced, especially on bludgering others. Regular training brought her some experience, though clearly that wasn’t enough. Maybe far from what she needed.

Grabbing her broom tight, she walked onto the pitch. Damn, noon shouldn’t be that cold…today’s freezing. Even worse than the last October match, which she didn’t even have to play. Chocolate brown eyes gazed at the green and silver color opposite them — and she blinked. The snakes seemed extra strong today, and very prepared. It came to a question if she could successfully bludger them down and send them to the ground — impossible, at least it seemed now, with all those third and fourth years with better brooms standing opposite.

She glared at them curiously. The only one she knew on the opposite team was @Cassandra Ironwoods, one of her besties. She still remembered how Cash and her trained together privately last month — and she had to admit that Cash was a far better beater than her. Facing off a friend of yours on the pitch seemed weird, especially when you two play the same highly offensive position. Maybe she had to bludger Cash later, or maybe Cash had to do it to her. But no. They were against each other now, and she must not hesitate.

She looked at those still chained bludgers. They would be her main focus today, both trying to evade and to hit. Chocolate brown eyes landed on her bat. Hopefully she could at least do one successful hit, and evade some. She wished to prove, even if she might be that strong, she could be very accurate.

She raised up her head and faced the dark sky. Dad would be proud…to see her flying around here, being one of the shiniest stars today. Though the Duke Springhall wouldn’t. Hopefully he’d never know she’s still on the team. Well, she had to do it. She had to prove herself, both to her friends and her family. Don’t they dare be against her playing after this match.

A small, fainting smile showed on Lindsey’s face. She glanced at the large boy as well as her captain beside, and then gazed towards where the other cap’s sitting. “I can, and I will do it, Cap.” she murmured, and eye sparkled.

Steadily she mounted her broom, the gift from her uncle. “Let’s go, team!” she shouted, sweeping some curls to the back, and shivering a bit in the cold weather.

Action: flying onto pitch, as strategized
────── ❈ ──────
STA 7 · EVA 6(+1=7) · WIS 7(+1=8) · ARC 6 · STR 8(+1=9) · ACC 9(+2=11)
Statistically Relevant | Lovely Creature | Health 700/700 | Broom Nimbus 1700

﹁

﹂

Stanley was paranoid. He was paranoid that he would have to go out on to the pitch in really cold weather. His hands were already frozen over on the ground let alone flying through the air. It was a bad idea signing up for Quidditch but there was no going back now. It had shocked Stanley when he had gotten the position of Second-String Seeker considering he had never had any Quidditch experience before.

Sitting on the bench, his knee bounced rapidly as more people started to arrive to the game. Stanley really hoped they would win otherwise he would never be able to forget the disappointment of losing on his first game. Although he was visibly very nervous. A small amount of pride for being part of Hufflepuff also shone through. Stanley hugged his arms around his small body looking up in the air with wide eyes looking around at all the players "Go Hufflepuff!" His nerves had fuelled his adrenaline. Small bursts of energy would definitely be erupting from Stanley through out the game as he wishfully thought about sitting in from of a warm fire after a successful win.

Action: Benched
Stats: Sta: 4 [+1=5] | Eva: 7 [+1=8] | Str: 1 | Wis: 7 | Arc P: 6 | Acc: 5 [+2=7]
Abilities: Part-Goblin
Broom: Comet 180 [+2 accuracy, +1 evasion, +1 stamina]

A grin spread across Koko's features as she strode onto the Quidditch Pitch, broom in hand. Her cheeks were tinted pink, almost as if she had coloured them with makeup. Her eyes glittered with some manifestation of hope, and she bounced with excitement. Her tiny form most likely came off as somewhat annoying to opponents who wanted nothing to do with her - the girl was in no way intimidating.

She glanced down. One of her sleeves seemed to not be tucked into her gloves, and carefully, she slipped it inside before pulling the sleeve of her coat over it. She shivered and tightened her scarf. While Koko didn't mind the cold at all, only two years of living in Los Angeles during part of the summer holiday had certainly changed her perception of temperature.

The Slytherin stared up at the sky once again. Nico was already on her broom, and Koko waved minutely - she doubted the gesture would be seen.

With a heavy sigh, Koko climbed onto her broom and kicked off, cringing at the bitter wind against her face. Okay, maybe she did mind the cold, at least when there was wind. This was not comfortable at all.

Eh. She would have to deal with it, anyway.

She came to a stop right before the goalposts. The view, she thought, was quite majestic - she felt as if she could see anything and do everything. Koko stretched, leaning backwards and feeling a pull in her shoulders before she readied herself to react quickly if any Chasers came her way with a Quaffle in hand. Koko had done this before. She knew what she was doing.

And so did her team. There were new people on the Slytherin team, of course - she'd noticed the infamous Thomas Lestrange on the bench. He was the new Second-String Keeper as well as a fellow prefect. Although she didn't know him too well, Koko was glad to know he would take over the goalposts should anything happen to her.

It wasn't time to think about the negatives, though. Koko opened her mouth, cupping her hands in what would hopefully work as a megaphone, and she took a deep breath. "We've got this, Snakes!"

Reducio

Broom - Silver Arrow (+3 to all stats)
Race & Abilities:
-Part Veela Alluring (10% chance opponent friendly fires if they aim for you)
-Evasive Maneuvers (10% auto-dodge)
-Part Veela Scream (N/A)

Stats:
Stamina: (15 + 3) = 18
Strength: (3 + 3) = 6
Accuracy: (6 + 3) = 9
Evasion: (6 + 3) = 9
Wisdom: (6+ 3) = 9
ArcPower: (5 + 3) = 8

Action - As strategised.

One of the first things that he noticed was just how cold the weather was even at noon. Percival had spent the better part of the morning hoping and wishing it would warm up. Though, the early morning chill seemed to have left an everlasting impact on the world. The grass was covered in a thin layer of frost. He could practically hear the crunching noise that he could elicit from the ground if he chose to step on it. Though, now wasn’t the time to go stomping through the grass like a child. Percival inwardly decided that it would have been more tolerable if the wind was few and far between. Though, it was just his luck that the wind would be practically constant today. Slamming him with air that chilled him deep into his bones.

Percival made his way over to the benches at a leisurely pace. Ending up towards the back of the line of players on their way to the benches. It occurred to him that if he did not pick up the pace he would have no choice in where he sat. Though, it seemed too late as he took in the sight of the bench mostly filled. Percival inwardly grumbled as he quickly took one of the available spots on the bench. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth as he shifted his broom to stand in between his legs. Percival glanced slightly to his right before doing a quick double-take. Only just realizing who had decided to sit down next to.

Flash Holmwood. Percival had trouble putting how he felt about the brown-haired boy into words. Holmwood was one of his less physically grating dormmates. Though, seeing him and Winters in such close proximity left a sour taste in his mouth. Percival didn’t like the thought that Op- Winters had already moved on from him so quickly. A part of him wondered if the two were already flirting with one another when she was still with him. The boy gripped the handle of his broom tighter as if it would help him control the emotions that brewed beneath the surface of his skin. Percival’s frown deepened as his brows drew together. He didn’t know exactly what to do. The other seemed distracted by another boy. Inwardly, he knew if he stood up to move it would just draw more attention to himself. Percival dug the nail of his thumb into the wood of his broom as he sat in indecision.

Actions: Benched and being salty

Mentioning: @Flash Holmwood, @Opeila Winters

Stats:

Reducio

Abilities: Foulplay and Lovely Creature

Broom: Moontrimmer [+3 to two separate stats, +10% chance to auto-dodge an attack, twink broom]

Stats: | Stamina [+3 Moontrimmer] | Evasion 6 | Strength 8 | Wisdom 5 | Arcane Power 8 | Accuracy 7 [+3 Moontrimmer] |

Heinrich had never been so nervous in his life. His palms were sweaty but in no way hindering the vice grip he had on his broom. Since the first week he arrived at Hogwarts, Heinrich's interest had been plastered onto the sport of quidditch. Even before he earned the role as chaser, he never missed one training session. The timid boy hid at an isolated corner of the stands until he had mustered the courage to approach Quinn a month ago. He could not believe that he was to be attending his first match, much less competition against one of the houses as a first string. Despite his nearly overwhelming anxiety, Heinrich would mount his broom and follow his other teammates up.

Actions: getting ready
Broom: Comet 180
Stats: Sta: 5[+1] | Eva: 0 [+1] | Str: 9 | Wis: 7 | Arc P: 0 | Acc: 9 [+2]

Thora had awoken at the crack of dawn, suspended between sleep and movement by a heavy dose of anxiety and the worst case of nerves she'd ever felt. When she'd finally summoned the strength to swing her legs out of bed and get properly herself properly dressed, every motion had been awkward, her stomach roiling in nervous anticipation of what was to come in only a few hours. Breakfast had been eaten in a strange daze, barely able to acknowledge the people around her, and the Great Hall, chaotic as always, had seem strangely muted, the sounds reduced from a constant roar to a buzz.

Inundated with worry, she had wandered back to her dorm in an attempt to pull herself together. She'd been fairly confident the previous night, falling asleep after a final few laps around the practice pitch, so how had she turned from that bright-eyed girl to this zombie-like state overnight? This was her fifth official Quidditch match, after all, so she was no rookie to the game and ought not to be so nervous. Granted, it would be her first time playing as a first string (well, playing at all) but she'd been preparing tirelessly - for the past couple of weeks as chaser, and months before that as a keeper. Perhaps she should head down to the pitch early; a breath of fresh air had never failed to clear her mind, and to sit around would do her no good, anyway.

As Thora stepped out into the cold January morning, straight into a gust of frozen wind, she almost fell back into the warmth of Hogwarts castle, not wanting to be blown off her feet before she even took to the air atop a broom. Almost. But some instinct sent her running forwards to meet the wind, arms outstretched, a smile spreading across her face and light returning to her eyes. It was quite strange, really, how simply being outdoors could revive her so dramatically. It could've been due to her countryside childhood, the sweet days of young innocence, or simply a fact of her nature, but for whatever reason, the wind did more than tangle her loose hair. It cleared the cloudy nothingness fogging her consciousness, blowing it into depths from which it would not return; it swept away the anxieties, the fear, the butterflies in her stomach.

With that came the new rays of sunshine - not literally, of course -, the excitement that ought to come with any Quidditch match. After all, though first times might be scary, to let that fact seize a hold of her wouldn't do. And with that, she ducked indoors, hoping to get some work done before the match, a new fire in her eyes.

When a couple more hours had finally elapsed and the girl found herself hurrying down to Slytherin's locker room early, boots crumbling the crystalline snow underfoot despite her efforts to tread lightly, it was more of an slightly anxious anticipation than fear that consumed her. She'd dressed fairly warmly - according to her definitions, at least -, a sweater of moderate thickness and thick socks tucked neatly underneath the typical Quidditch dress. Thin fingerless gloves had been a late addition to the outfit, as she wouldn't want her hands to be numb, but also didn't want anything hindering their movement. After all, she'd need her hands as able as possible in order to properly handle the Quaffle - and to hold onto her broom, for that matter.

Thora could tell others were far better dressed than her, but she was no stranger to cool temperatures, having been raised in Ireland. True, the dreary, rainy cold so constant in Dingle was nothing compared to the bone-chilling winters in Scotland, but she'd never been one hampered by such low temperatures. And that wasn't to mention the pure excitement already racing through her small body like never before, somehow taking the edge off of the frigidness.

And finally, it was game time. Fighting back a fresh wave of nerves, she forced a smile past her clenched teeth as she entered the pitch alongside her teammates. As some took to the air, she found her gaze flicking automatically to Slytherin's bench, where a couple of the second strings had already settled down. Her own time as a reserve had been incredibly long, spanning two seasons, and it had almost ingrained in her a sense of a permanent function, an idea of what she'd always be. It'd felt as if she'd always be a reserve, would always be the one just watching, would be one of those forever confined to the bench. But persistence and practice had finally paid off, and no longer was she kept off to the side. Now, she was free.

Swinging a leg over her Silver Arrow, Thora turned her eyes instead upwards, breathing deeply before kicking off of the ground, sending frozen bits of snow flying. As she ascended into the sky, watching the other players grow from specks to life-sized figures, her heart raced ever faster, hands growing clammy with sweat. She was absolutely positive she'd never felt this exposed before; the 34 emblazoned on her back no longer marked a harmless reserve, but rather a threat to the opposition and a player whose movement would likely be tracked by the spectators below.

Despite all of this, she steeled herself, shutting out the nerves and the fear of failure. After all, she'd trained for this moment for months, and her feverish training the past few days had all been in preparation for this. She was as ready for this as she'd ever be.

Now in position, she turned her head, flashing her teammates a thumbs-up and a smile, which was no longer forced. The elimination of her pregame nervousness and knowledge of her preparedness had allowed a new stream of confidence to come flowing in, washing away any vestiges of her old fear. Even as her gaze roved over the opposing team, attempting to size up her competition, her confidence would not waver. Perhaps she was a new face, a relative unknown, but she would prove to everyone - to her teammates, Hufflepuff, and the spectators alike - that she belonged in this position, that she'd rightfully earned her role. She had to, and so she would.

Serena tied her hair up into a ponytail. It was finally time for the second match of the season, and the Chaser was ready to redeem herself after the last game. She wasn’t sure why, but during the previous game, she had zoned out. Thankfully, this hadn’t cost her team the victory, but still, Serena didn’t want to let her team down again.

So, though she would prefer to be in front of a warm fire instead of in the cold weather, Serena mounted her broom and took off, beginning her lap around the field. She smiled at Aaron as he shouted out words of encouragement.

“Yeah, let’s go! We’ve got this!” Serena shouted back.

Getting back into her starting position, the twelve-year-old looked straight ahead, determined to stay focused this time.

Action: Getting in position and doing as strategized

Stats: STA: 6 EVA: 7 (+1=8) STR: 7 (+1=8) WIS: 7 (+1=8) ARCP: 6 ACC: 8 (+2=10)
Abilities: None at this time
Broom: Nimbus 1700: Fast and tough racing broom. Stats: +2 accuracy, +1 evasion, +1 wisdom, +1 strength (added above)

Maybe it was best if Alexx was second string. It bruised her pride some, sure, but she had other things to worry about now. As a fourth year, there was a lot on both her mind and her plate. And while she wanted to be some super big Quidditch star, well... Maybe this was a test. If it was meant to be, then it would be. But for now, she'd have to last with sitting on the bench and watching others play. If anything, it would make for an interesting perspective in an article. So as her teammates took to the field and she did not, she yelled words of encouragement at them, hoping they'd be fine without her.

Actions: Benched

Reducio

Strength: 9
Stamina: 10
Arc Power: 7
Wisdom: 5
Evasion: 9
Accuracy: 11

abilities: sixth sense, cat's grace, lovely creature, foulplay

broom: moontrimmer

Quinn entered the pitch pumped as ever. To be honest because of recent events at home he wanted, no needed a chance to blow off steam like this. He flashed his usual excited smirk. Which he only got when he was getting pumped for something he knew he would thoroughly enjoy like Quidditch. As he looked around he noticed the occasional glances of one beautiful Dhampir, @Nico Shymane. He prayed she'd forgive him if he ended up knocking her off her broom. But this was a game and if everything went well there would be no hard feelings. Besides he was the captain and he had to keep morale up and his lesser sides in check. So he winked to her before joining the rest of his team ready to demolish their opponent.

Action : Doing as Strategised~