Quidditch

"Hey, Anduin, quit dawdling! The Quidditch Match is about to start. I've never seen one in person before. Do you think I could become a Quidditch player?" Vivian tugged Anduin along toward the field, hurrying as if they might miss out on the best seats if they arrived too late.

Anduin hadn't been interested in such a savage game, but he was in a good mood today. With Hagrid's help, he'd managed to sell the batch of Potions he'd made, earning 240 Galleons and finally easing the strain on his purse.

On his way back from Hagrid's, he'd run into Vivian, who was on her way to watch the Quidditch Match. Since he was in an unusually good mood, he'd decided to join her and see what all the fuss was about.

Anduin's Flying Class grades weren't particularly impressive. He was average at best. His one real strength was his decent sense of balance: he flew steadily and rarely made mistakes. But he hadn't put much effort into it.

Whenever he rode a broomstick, his mind reflexively started imagining aerial battles. The broom's slow speed and conspicuous rider made fighting on a Flying Broomstick seem wildly impractical to him. It would be far too easy to become a target, so he didn't take broomstick practice seriously.

Vivian, on the other hand, had a real talent for flying and picked it up quickly. By her second Flying Class, she could already manage a few simple maneuvers in the air. Once she realized she'd finally found a subject she was better at than Anduin, she became even more fascinated with Flying Broomsticks. Sometimes, it seemed, interest really was born of being pushed.

"Which two teams are playing today? I heard Quidditch matches can go on for hours. How does anyone find that fun?" Vivian had tugged his clothes into a rumpled mess, so Anduin stopped her and complained.

"Oh, honestly! Are you even a Slytherin student? You don't know our house is playing Gryffindor? You really do spend every day cooped up in your room and pay no attention to anything!" Vivian stared at him, exasperated.

Anduin finally understood. "So that's why you're so excited. I bet you're less interested in watching the match than in seeing the commotion."

"I want to see the commotion and the match," Vivian retorted. "I'm not like you, with your complete lack of fun. You're interested in nothing but books."

"Then you don't know where the real fun in this world is." Anduin rolled his eyes, not bothering to argue with her.

Before long, they reached the Quidditch field. All the way there, Vivian kept explaining the rules to Anduin. He already knew them; Charles had excitedly told them all about Quidditch on the train. But Vivian was the sort who could never stop talking, and sometimes Anduin was tempted to cast Locktongue on her.

"I heard that in the old days, people even pulled out huge cleavers during Quidditch matches and tried to chop off the Keeper's head. Hey, isn't that Charles? Why's he by himself?" Vivian had been sharing all the Quidditch stories she knew when she suddenly changed the subject.

Following Vivian's gaze, Anduin spotted Charles standing alone by the entrance to the Quidditch field.

Vivian hurried over to greet him. "Charles! It's been a while. You came to watch the match too? Why aren't you inside? What are you doing out here alone?"

Seeing Anduin and Vivian, Charles smiled. "Vivian! I'm waiting for some classmates. We've saved seats upstairs, so I'm here to show the others the way when they arrive."

Then Charles turned to Anduin. "I haven't seen you in ages. You're always vanishing whenever we're not in class. I can at least catch up with Vivian now and then, but I can never find you. I still haven't had a chance to thank you for what happened last time."

"There's no need to bring that up again. Relations between our houses are pretty tense right now," Anduin said, subtly reminding him that it was better not to discuss it.

Charles was smart enough to let the matter drop. But the exchange had reignited Vivian's curiosity, and her sharp little eyes darted between the two of them.

While the three of them were talking, an unwelcome voice interrupted them.

"Vivian, Anduin, what are you two doing with that Gryffindor idiot? Hang around with those fools and you'll turn into fools yourselves." Sampur Travers had spotted the three talking as he approached, and he sneered at them in open disgust.

"Travers, you filthy bastard, get lost. I don't want to see you," Charles said with a look of revulsion.

"Who I talk to is my business. It's none of yours, Travers," Vivian said coldly.

Anduin merely stood by, calmly watching Travers, with nothing to say.

Seeing that they dared to talk back, Sampur's expression turned even uglier. "Ha! A Gryffindor idiot and a filthy Mudblood are friends. Figures—you're birds of a feather. Anduin, you're a disgrace to Slytherin. Vivian, I suggest you stop associating with people like him. Do you really want to sully the honor of the Bulstrode family?"

That was more than Anduin could take. Seeing the idiot still hounding them, he sneered, "That's right, we can't compare to the great Pure-blood Travers family. Besides serving the Dark Lord like a dog, you're also good at slinging accusations. I'd stop barking so loudly if I were you. They say a dog that bites doesn't bark, and a dog that only barks but can't bite might get kicked aside by its master one day. You're so eloquent, with a mouth like it's been smeared with laxatives, spewing crap nonstop. You must've just come from the toilet after stuffing yourself."

"You—you dare!" When Travers argued with people, he usually just traded insults. He'd never encountered this kind of sarcastic mockery before, and his anger surged. He drew his wand, ready to fight Anduin.

That suited Anduin just fine. If Travers made the first move, Anduin would make sure he learned exactly why flowers were red.

"What are you doing? Why are you blocking the entrance to the field instead of going inside?" Professor McGonagall had arrived, and she looked sternly at the arguing students.

With the professor there, none of them dared act up. Travers was red with rage, but he didn't dare let it show in front of her. He could only glare furiously at them before turning away—especially at Anduin, whom he stared at so viciously his eyes seemed ready to bleed.

After Travers left, Professor McGonagall turned to the three of them. "All right, stop crowding the entrance and move along. And don't get me into any more trouble."

With that, Professor McGonagall turned and entered the field.