RP: An Impromptu Quidditch Match
Date: 16 June, 1998
Characters: Charlie Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Fleur Weasley, Ron Weasley, Parvati Patil, Minerva McGonagall, Katie Bell, Victoria Frobisher, Dean Thomas, Cho Chang, Susan Bones, Neville Longbottom, Millicent Bulstrode, Michael Corner, Morag MacDougal, Meghan McCormack (And OPEN)
Location: Hogwarts
Status: Public
Summary: Charlie begins an impromptu Quidditch match, hoping that the rain will hold off long enough.
Completion: Incomplete
It was wet on the ground; in fact, it had been raining for the longest time that he could remember, making the going through the Forest worse than usual. He'd visited the centaurs this morning, whilst it had been raining particularly horrendously, glad for the protection of the trees from the warm splodge of wet raindrops that trickled down the back of his Muggle coat and soaked his T-shirt. It was easier than working in robes, anyway, considering the mess the forest was in, and the centaurs were, when he found them, busy moving the huge timbers into storage, so that they weren't ruined.
Blissful to find, then, that the rain had stopped, at least for the time being, and that the sky, although grey, was speckled with spots of blue. It was unlikely to hold, considering the feel of static in the air, but if they were lucky, the thunderstorms might hold off until tomorrow. Charlie had become quite adept at reading the weather; in Romania you needed to be able to depend on it - if you wandered out into falling snow, you had to know that there weren't going to be whiteout conditions by the time you came back. Rain was similar. It made working in the mountains particularly hazardous.
However, Charlie had been looking forward to having some time with his sister; which was why he'd brought his broom along from home and stored it in the broomshed first thing. It wasn't top of the range, but it was fast; a Cleansweep. It needed to be to fly beside the dragons, particularly in mating season, when the observers had to keep an eye out for any unpleasant injuries.
Charlie fetched the box of Quidditch supplies, and his broom, hoping that McGonagall wouldn't mind that he borrowed them; it was the thrill of chasing the snitch that he was particularly after, so when he released the little silver and gold ball, he couldn't help but smile and mount up, forgetting that he was waiting for Ginny. She'd be here soon; and she wouldn't mind, he supposed, if he made a few catches before she got there.
Up and up he rose, forgetting the snitch for the pleasure of the wind in his hair and the brisk warmth on his face. Electricity danced in his veins, charged by the thrill of flight and the polarity of the clouds. He tipped forwards, and the broom plumetted down towards the earth, spinning left around the axis as he descended, so that he could pull up with the length of the pitch ahead of him. And now he searched the skies; a better position for hunting the snitch against the dull grey; looking for that brightly coloured jewel that he could chase, quite unaware of the spectacle that he was making of himself.
Characters: Charlie Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Fleur Weasley, Ron Weasley, Parvati Patil, Minerva McGonagall, Katie Bell, Victoria Frobisher, Dean Thomas, Cho Chang, Susan Bones, Neville Longbottom, Millicent Bulstrode, Michael Corner, Morag MacDougal, Meghan McCormack (And OPEN)
Location: Hogwarts
Status: Public
Summary: Charlie begins an impromptu Quidditch match, hoping that the rain will hold off long enough.
Completion: Incomplete
It was wet on the ground; in fact, it had been raining for the longest time that he could remember, making the going through the Forest worse than usual. He'd visited the centaurs this morning, whilst it had been raining particularly horrendously, glad for the protection of the trees from the warm splodge of wet raindrops that trickled down the back of his Muggle coat and soaked his T-shirt. It was easier than working in robes, anyway, considering the mess the forest was in, and the centaurs were, when he found them, busy moving the huge timbers into storage, so that they weren't ruined.
Blissful to find, then, that the rain had stopped, at least for the time being, and that the sky, although grey, was speckled with spots of blue. It was unlikely to hold, considering the feel of static in the air, but if they were lucky, the thunderstorms might hold off until tomorrow. Charlie had become quite adept at reading the weather; in Romania you needed to be able to depend on it - if you wandered out into falling snow, you had to know that there weren't going to be whiteout conditions by the time you came back. Rain was similar. It made working in the mountains particularly hazardous.
However, Charlie had been looking forward to having some time with his sister; which was why he'd brought his broom along from home and stored it in the broomshed first thing. It wasn't top of the range, but it was fast; a Cleansweep. It needed to be to fly beside the dragons, particularly in mating season, when the observers had to keep an eye out for any unpleasant injuries.
Charlie fetched the box of Quidditch supplies, and his broom, hoping that McGonagall wouldn't mind that he borrowed them; it was the thrill of chasing the snitch that he was particularly after, so when he released the little silver and gold ball, he couldn't help but smile and mount up, forgetting that he was waiting for Ginny. She'd be here soon; and she wouldn't mind, he supposed, if he made a few catches before she got there.
Up and up he rose, forgetting the snitch for the pleasure of the wind in his hair and the brisk warmth on his face. Electricity danced in his veins, charged by the thrill of flight and the polarity of the clouds. He tipped forwards, and the broom plumetted down towards the earth, spinning left around the axis as he descended, so that he could pull up with the length of the pitch ahead of him. And now he searched the skies; a better position for hunting the snitch against the dull grey; looking for that brightly coloured jewel that he could chase, quite unaware of the spectacle that he was making of himself.