Watch me! [He's already in Arlo's room. He knows exactly where the kids keep their brooms and their quidditch things. He has them in hand before before Arlo is even on his feet. He walks out and heads to the basement. Sofie's tantrum can still be heard all throughout the house but Michael doesn't care.]
They'll just borrow brooms from friends or the school or order new brooms from Hogsmeade or for delivery or get their friends to order the brooms and smuggle them in to Hogwarts and then use them there, or make their own brooms, or start trying to fly on things which aren't brooms but are vaguely broom like, like branches from trees with little twigs at the end for bristles!
I already said I was sorry. *Lottie is so past angry she's not even yelling, she couldn't even describe how angry she is except maybe it's like her brain is made out of hornets. And she's going to lose it, and everyone is going to be so fucking sorry.* I turned sixteen in November, I'm going to play quidditch, this is my entire life.
I don't care how sorry you are. That's because it doesn't matter. I decided to do this before your little unauthorized outing.
I can stop you from playing. You know I can. You know that I have a fair amount of pull in the professional quidditch world. I will make sure they all know you are radioactive.
*She gasps, he probably should've hit her because that would've hurt less.* Fuck you. I'll move to Bulgaria, I'll go play in the states, I'll go to, to, New Zeland or Japan or anywhere, I'll go and I'll make it by myself if I have to! I'm not going to stop just vecause you're all scared, I'm not fucking scared. You don't own the whole world and you sure as hell don't own me.
Yeah? You're sixteen. You're not even allowed to do magic yet. How are you going to get anywhere? How are you going to pay for it? How far you going to pay for your life?
And you need to watch your mouth and your temper. Because I am not in the mood, Lottie.
[He goes and gets the guitar. He hands it and Arlo's phone to Kit.] I didn't actually take the guitar. I mean, I threatened to and he brought it to me.
Then you're both idiots. Here's an idea: if you don't want your grandkids to play a sport you have always known is dangerous, maybe don't also spend most of their childhoods telling them how wonderful and great the sport is, and how brilliant they will be when they do it as their only possible life goal. You idiot.
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You can't do that!
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Watch me! [He's already in Arlo's room. He knows exactly where the kids keep their brooms and their quidditch things. He has them in hand before before Arlo is even on his feet. He walks out and heads to the basement. Sofie's tantrum can still be heard all throughout the house but Michael doesn't care.]
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Fine. [He follows Michael.] But I'll borrow a broom.
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I'm going to tell you what I told Sofie, you're not of age. You need permission to play quidditch and you just lost yours.
The discussion is over Arlo. Stop wasting your breath.
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You and Flora can't stop you cousins from doing something but I can.
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They'll just borrow brooms from friends or the school or order new brooms from Hogsmeade or for delivery or get their friends to order the brooms and smuggle them in to Hogwarts and then use them there, or make their own brooms, or start trying to fly on things which aren't brooms but are vaguely broom like, like branches from trees with little twigs at the end for bristles!
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They're not of age. I can revoke their right to play. [Can he? He seems to think he can.]
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I can stop you from playing. You know I can. You know that I have a fair amount of pull in the professional quidditch world. I will make sure they all know you are radioactive.
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And you need to watch your mouth and your temper. Because I am not in the mood, Lottie.
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I left mine at school.
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Then on the next Hogsmeade visit I'll meet you and you can give it to me.
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No, I won't.
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I was hoping you'd be reasonable.
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You're an idiot. Give me Arlo's guitar so I can give it back to him.
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[He goes and gets the guitar. He hands it and Arlo's phone to Kit.] I didn't actually take the guitar. I mean, I threatened to and he brought it to me.
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Then you're both idiots. Here's an idea: if you don't want your grandkids to play a sport you have always known is dangerous, maybe don't also spend most of their childhoods telling them how wonderful and great the sport is, and how brilliant they will be when they do it as their only possible life goal. You idiot.
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Yes, I realize now that I fucked up. I just. I got scared and I reacted. Badly.
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