Hogsmeade and Qudditch
Alexander Bay
Holding Amalia's hand, Alexander stepped out into a sunny Saturday morning. The sky was a sea of pure, radiant blue. In their wake followed Fiona, Philip, and Maxwell.
"Does anyone actually need something in Hogsmeade, or are we just dropping by the Three Broomsticks?" Philip asked.
"Maybe stock up on sweets," Amalia suggested.
"And show Maxwell around the village," Alexander added.
"Three Broomsticks first, then shopping," Fiona chimed in with a laugh. "I need to unwind a bit after this disastrous week."
They made their way down the winding path that led from the castle to the village of Hogsmeade. It was a half-hour walk, and the path snaked around part of the lake and then through natural meadows, patches of trees, and a few old crumbling ruins. The quaint cottages and shops, with their thatched roofs and cobblestone streets, gave the village an almost medieval charm.
As they approached the bustling main street, Maxwell looked around with open curiosity. "It's smaller than I expected," he remarked, observing the tight cluster of antique buildings. They had high-pitched roofs, the kind built in areas with a large amount of snowfall, and the windows were of narrow build. Though nothing about the buildings quite screamed of the supernatural, the architecture still didn't feel quite natural.
"It's cosy, though," Amalia countered, squeezing Alexander's hand. "This is the only all-wizarding village in Britain and has been so for nearly seven hundred years, so it's unique in that way."
"I know," Maxwell said. "Hogsmeade is quite famous."
"Oh yeah," Alexander replied and grinned fondly at the crowds of wizards bustling through the streets. They weren't the only students, either. Dozens of Hogwarts students were mixed among the crowds of locals and other visitors. Just then Alexander met the gaze of a tall blond seventh-year Gryffindor.
"Brian Aston," Fiona muttered darkly, catching up with him.
"Judging by your reactions, am I correct in deducing that this is Gryffindor's team captain?" Maxwell said, catching on quickly. That, or Alexander's Gryffindor counterpart, had been mentioned in some conversation, and his brother had simply recalled the random fact.
"Very," Fiona said darkly, glaring at the man. "Prick..." Philip muttered and snorted, grinning over at the Ravenclaw Seeker.
Amalia to glanced over at the Ravenclaw slyly. "You should know. I recall you went out with him two years ago."
"A lapse in judgment, I assure you," Fiona replied.
"That much we can all agree on," Philip agreed. "Was it his curly hair? Or was he good at snogging?"
"Oh, be quiet," Fiona replied and smacked her fellow seventh-year on the shoulder.
Alexander only rolled his eyes, having no desire to explore Fiona's past infatuations further. They made their way up the village's main street with its small shops, workshops, and homes fashioned from cobblestone. Their little group walked up High Street, trying to keep to the sides to avoid the bulk of the pedestrians. Finally, they reached a worn-looking pub. "Let us hope it isn't too full," Alexander said.
It was, but they still secured a table in the back. Just as they started looking for a place to sit, a group of elderly witches vacated theirs. Once seated, Alexander looked around the large main room. A group of middle-aged wizards was off to their left, while on their other side was a table with four Hufflepuffs. The air was thick with high-spirited conversation and the heavy scent of honey mead. "I missed this place," Amalia announced as the barmaid approached their table.
"What can I do for you?" she asked.
"Five Butterbeers please, and a snack tablet," Alexander said, smiling up at the witch.
"Well, my dears. Five Butterbeers and a snack tablet are coming up. Your orders might take a few minutes. As you can see, we are a tad bit swamped," the barmaid replied, levitating a number of empty glasses with her wand.
"No problem, Ma'am," Amalia replied politely. "We literally have all day."
As the barmaid bustled away, the sounds of the Three Broomsticks enveloped them: the clinking of glasses, the low hum of myriad conversations, and the occasional outburst of laughter. Amalia leaned back, surveying the pub with a satisfied air, while Fiona tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table, eyeing the crowd with an amused glance. When the barmaid finally returned with their Butterbeers, the frothy drinks a welcome sight, she set them down with a flourish. "Here you are, dears. Enjoy!" Her warm smile was infectious, and as she departed, Maxwell raised his glass slightly.
"So, my friends!" Amalia declared and raised her glass. "To another year at Hogwarts, and that we take the Quidditch Cup from Gryffindor."
All of them, even Maxwell raised, their glasses in a toast. A moment later, the barmaid returned with a platter burdened with Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, and Dragon Roasted Nuts. They talked for a while, mostly about classes, until Philip glanced over at Maxwell. "So, you are the duellist I have been hearing about. Have you signed up to Professor Merrythought's duelling club yet?"
Maxwell froze mid-sip. Then, after carefully setting his glass down, and pausing for a long moment as if weighing his response, he shook his head.
"Maxwell is not allowed to duel, like at all," Amalia explained evenly, and with a finality that would hopefully convey that this was a very unfortunate choice in topic.
"Well, too bad," Philip joked. "Would have been a blast."
"Speaking of duelling," Alexander asked, remembering a mental note he had made previously, but also wishing to steer the conversation out of dangerous waters. "I've been meaning to ask a question. When we started off with nonverbal spells, Dumbledore said that a skilled opponent could still anticipate your spells." While probably not the best time to ask, deferring to his little brother openly as the subject matter expert, would add to the reputation Maxwell could draw from should the need arise. At least until everyone forgot about the tournament and his brother would fade into obscurity. But until then, he was perfectly happy to watch his brother reap whatever fruits his labour had earned him. With any luck, Maxwell would get a lady friend out of it, not that he needed too much help.
Maxwell leaned back and thoughtfully stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. "I usually know what spell is coming, how to best put this... There are multiple things one can observe. For one, the most obvious is the execution of the spell, as in the posture of the opposing duelling and the wand work itself. Expelliarmus and other spells of that category require very similar, even identical wand work. Are you keeping up so far?" Maxwell asked.
"Naturally," Alexander replied lightly, happy to see his brother back in his element.
"Well, to summarise. Most spells with similar effects have the same counter. The same rule of thumb can be applied to most other spells and curses suitable for duelling. That being said, this isn't foolproof, and feints are a common practice. One of those nearly cost me the semifinals."
Maxwell hesitated for a moment and took a sip from his drink as if uncertain how wise it was handing out any more trade secrets that London or the headteacher would consider inappropriate for the wider wizarding community. "There are also certain combinations of spells that tend to repeat themselves, mostly due to them allowing for a high casting rate," he added somewhat evasively. "Once you have spent some time duelling, you eventually get familiar with them. It's also how Aurors and other members of Magical Law enforcement overwhelm the average witch and wizard in short order. Most just panic and then forget to use magic."
"Fair enough," Alexander said quickly. Judging by the eager expression on Philipp's face, his Slytherin counterpart was more than happy to get ammunition for the duelling club when it came. Then, if anyone they knew was qualified to give casual advice on the matter, it would be Maxwell. If word spread, Maxwell was handing out skills and information that both the ministry and teaching body would disapprove of. His brother could very quickly find himself in rather hot water. Even more so than he already was in. "If you wish to learn more about this," Maxwell said, nodding at Philip. "Then there is literature out there that you might find useful. I can recommend 'The Dance Of The Wands' by Merlin, and of course 'The Queen's Swords and Wands,' by Edward Kelley. Though considerable progress has been made since both the Arthurian and Elizabethan eras, both books still serve as good introductions, and the deductions they make still hold true in principle. There are a few more, but most haven't been translated into English yet."
Alexander resigned himself to only listen to the conversations as he enjoyed what was frankly a well-deserved drink in silence. Both Amalia and Fiona seemed to have enough to gossip about in any case, and Philip seemed more than happy to join in. Maxwell, as usual, chose to keep his opinions to himself, and only briefly met his older brother's gaze, otherwise lost in his thoughts as he admired the effects of carbonation. Once their drinks were emptied and paid for, they stepped back onto into the bustling street.
"As I said at breakfast, I still need to visit this town's bibliothèque," Maxwell warned.
"And I definitely need to check out that new place, Zonko's Joke Shop," Philip added quickly. Alexander cleared his voice. "I too would like to pop by that place, strictly for Prefect Business, of course."
"Forget joke shops," Fiona declared. "Honey dukes is long overdue an inspection."
"Or, and just hear me out," Amalia began. "We take that walk we talked about, and then burden ourselves with the spoils of this trip afterward?"
They looked back at himself and Maxwell, who brought up the back of the group. Alexander shrugged, not really caring. It occurred to him he had already eaten his ration of trash on the train to Hogwarts and did not wish to make a habit of it. For one, Amalia would have a fit if he lost his washboard abdomen. It had taken him long enough and what felt like an unreasonable amount of effort to get it? Maxwell's indifference didn't surprise him either way.
"Look, it's Diggle," Amalia suddenly hissed. Alexander followed her gaze, and sure enough, a short and portly wizard in bright green robes was peering around the corner shop at them.
"Can't blame him for keeping an eye on students, especially when there is no teacher in the village. Things really got out of hand last year," Alexander offered reasonably, staring right back at the town's mayor. Realising he had been made, the wizard disappeared again.
"Indeed," Fiona remarked dryly, her eyes following the mayor as he retreated. "One might observe that Mr Diggle becomes particularly vigilant whenever the young witches from the school are about. I am sure the pretty ones are especially prone to causing trouble."
Amalia giggled and took Alexander's hand. "Us blonds sure are a menace," she added, staring off in the same direction.
"Well, at least he has good taste then," Alexander joked lightly and pulled Amalia along, hoping it would get the rest of the group to follow. It worked like a charm.
They soon left the chattering crowds of Hogsmeade behind. The group headed toward the outskirts of the village, where the landscape opened up to rolling hills and the dense borders of the Forbidden Forest. The path they chose wound along a ridge that offered sweeping views of the valley below, with Hogwarts Castle in the distance, its spires reaching into the clear blue sky.
As they followed the path, a light breeze picked up, rustling through the leaves and bringing with it the earthy scent of the forest. The thick canopy offered a play of light as the sun's rays pierced through leaves and branches, casting dappled shadows on their path. With little warning, the path broke free from the forest and veered off sharply to the left on an outcropping in the valley wall. The left edge of the path, now only secured by a low brick wall, offered an unexpected view of the valley below, dominated by the castle and lake. He could even see some of their fellow students swimming in the glittering water, something Alexander had never quite been able to make himself do. He had never been capable of convincing himself that taking a swim in waters hosting a giant squid and a bunch of merfolk was a wise thing to do.
They sat down on the edge of the wall with their feet dangling. "This place never gets old, does it?" Fiona remarked, her eyes scanning the horizon. "The view here is spectacular."
"So, now to the important part. What are your plans for Quidditch tryouts?" Amalia finally asked.
Alexander and Philip simultaneously grimaced. "Brian swept in first, so they are at it right now. Hufflepuff is getting the pitch until the early evening. It is our turn in the evening..."
"And we, of course, come in tomorrow," Amalia concluded, glaring at her team captain. "But what are you two going to do for tryouts?"
Philip snorted. "Same as last year, I think," the Slytherin captain reasoned. "Definitely not assuming everyone can fly again... That did not work out at all."
"And I take it you are just going to wing it, my dear?" Amalia finally turned to him.
"Pretty much. I've seen a few tryouts by now..."
Philip slowly clapped a few times. "Bloody hell, Alexander. I spent the entire week drawing up a plan for tryouts! Last year, I spent half the summer break!"
"Well, I was preoccupied this summer," Alexander defended himself indignantly. "And Amalia distracted me this week."
"Of course, now I am to blame that Ravenclaw will come in last this year," she complained indignantly. "I am not even in your house!"
The shadows stopped growing shorter before finally beginning to grow in length again. Casting a golden hue across the verdant valley below their dangling feet, the group's conversation dwindled into a comfortable silence. Each seemed lost in their own thoughts, the serene landscape before them a canvas for their reflections. The castle's spires in the distance, its towers bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, almost felt too picturesque to be real.
"Time to head back, I reckon," Fiona announced, swinging her legs over the wall and rising up to brush off her robes. "There is a sweets shop waiting to receive my parents' hard-earned gold."
They retraced their steps back toward civilization, Fiona pulling ahead this time to lead them towards Honeydukes. The store was already filled with quite a few students, and the witch behind the counter only briefly looked up from the group of third-year Hufflepuffs she was currently attending to.
Fiona led the charge and began to fill paper bags with the shovel, apparently intent on bringing along as much of the merchandise as she possibly could. After watching, somewhat bemused for a few long moments, Amalia joined her. Despite his earlier good intentions, he and Maxwell also got themselves a little something together, though nothing comparable to the raw bulk of merchandise Fiona seemed intent on hauling back to the castle. As they were in the shop, Amalia nudged his shoulders and nodded over at the Hufflepuffs with raised eyebrows. They were trying very hard not to be too obvious as they shot glances at Maxwell and giggled among themselves. His little brother either didn't notice, or in Alexander's humble opinion, more likely, he simply didn't care.
After paying, they waited outside as Philip stepped into the joke shop. If someone saw them acquiring the tools for mischief, it would set the wrong example. His little brother, as expected, did not show too much interest in the tools to facilitate practical jokes.
When Philip finally returned, he was grinning from ear to ear and had a package tucked under his arm.
"Gryffindor won't know what hit them," he promised and winked at Fiona, who rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a chuckle.
The journey back to the castle felt nowhere near as long as the trek out that morning, despite being burdened with the spoils of their raid. By the time they stepped through Hogwarts' front gates and into the pleasantly cool entrance hall, their shirts were sticking to their skin. Still, not wishing to linger, lest drawing any attention to the content of Philip's large bag, they all hurried back in the directions of their respective common rooms. It was time for Alexander to get ready for his own tryouts anyway, even if that was still a few days away. So, once he had kissed Amalia goodbye, he and Maxwell headed back towards Ravenclaw Tower, with Fiona in tow.
"Nervous about tryouts?" Alexander asked Fiona lightly, noticing how quiet she had got.
She smiled uneasily. "A bit," she admitted.
"Unless Merlin's gift to Quidditch turns up today, or you forgot how to fly your Silver Arrow during the summer, your place on the team is pretty safe, I think," Alexander joked lightly. Truth be told, he knew that he might get some flack for it if he said it out loud, but he did not want to stand down any of the previous year's team members unless he really had to. Those that remained were all solid players and solid fliers, and the chemistry among the team members had also been fairly solid.
"So, while Maxwell made himself comfortable in one of the common room's many vacant chairs to indulge himself in a book Alexander did not recognise, Alexander took the spiral staircase up to his dormitory." He was alone as he changed into his blue and silver Quidditch robes for the first time that term, and took his time. When he laced his boots, he did so in a methodical manner, taking his time as he tried to centre himself nd ignore his lingering doubts. It wasn't as if he had no idea what he would do. He had joined the team in his second year and had witnessed quite a few tryouts since.
Knowing he would never get to it if he didn't start now, he pulled his own Silver Arrow from its leather travel bag, and, after retrieving his maintenance kit from his bag, Alexander made his way back downstairs to join his brother.
"Maxwell, lost in his literature, barely looked up when Alexander sat down in his favourite armchair opposite him. Alexander quietly grabbed his kit and got to work, making sure none of his broom's twigs were bent or broken, and then proceeded to oil and polish the handle to a clean sheen. After a few minutes, Fiona, too, joined them. She too had changed into her quidditch robes and had her own broom resting across her thighs, still looking mildly anxious, a drastic shift from her usual confident demeanour.
"Fiona, relax. Here, make sure your broomstick is in order," he finally called over at her and held the polish out to her.
Fiona took the polish from Alexander with a grateful nod and started to work on her own broom, her movements gradually becoming more deliberate as she focused on the task at hand. The quiet scrape and buff of the polish seemed to calm both their nerves.
"You know," Alexander began, breaking the silence as he worked on his own Silver Arrow, "every year it's the same nerves, even when you know what to expect. But once you're up there, flying... it's just business as usual."
Fiona only snorted in response.
Over the next hour or so, what remained of Ravenclaw's previous years' cadre found its way in. "Come on, guys," Alexander finally announced. "Let's head down to the pitch. Maxwell, will you join us?"
"Don't mind if I do," his little brother replied smoothly, and set aside his book.
They were hardly the first to make their way down to the Quidditch pitch, and his own nerves only grew more tense as they made their way down the familiar path towards the Quidditch pitch. Their stop in the changing room was brief. The team waited there as Alexander headed over to Professor Saint's storage room to grab a large ornate crate.
Roughly thirty other students in Ravenclaw robes were waiting for him in the circle painted onto the lawn in the centre of the pitch.
There were enough familiar faces among them. Fiona for one stood at the very front of the group, her broom casually propped up against her leg, her earlier anxiety apparently forgotten. The other remaining members had already formed a group. He still had two chasers, Frederick Holland, a gangly fifth year that seemed to be entirely made of knees. He had clearly gone through another growth spurt over the summer, even nearly catching up to Alexander in height, though probably weighing a good deal less. Then there was Lavanya, a rather pretty third year from South India, who Alexander was sure he wanted on the team again, despite knowing he would be spending a third of every game trying to rein her in. Between them stood Hector Castel, a short and stocky seventh year. Hector was their remaining chaser.
As he walked out onto the pitch, Fiona came out to meet him. "Don't mind the Gawkers," she muttered.
Alexander looked up at the stands and, sure enough, he spotted a small group of Gryffindors and Slytherins, including Amalia. Maxwell did not sit far from her. Both the new Hufflepuff and Gryffindor teams were present at full strength. There were not only players too, dozens of other students from all houses had come to see the tryouts.
"Looks like they can't wait to meet the winning lineup," Alexander joked lightly, and turned to face the crowd.
"Okay, everyone. Listen up!" Alexander called out and waited until silence finally fell among the chattering group of students.
"My name is Alexander Bay, and I am both the keeper and the team captain," he announced. "Welcome to this year's team tryouts. This event will consist of two phases. The first phase will be one of elimination. In the second, we will see who of those remaining will make the final cut. Now, is anyone here not a proficient flier? If you aren't, please form a group over there," he said, pointing at an empty spot left of the group.
When no one moved, Alexander sighed. "Everyone an expert, I guess," he muttered to himself. "Very good!" he declared. "That makes things easier. Looks like it is time for the elimination phase then. Does anyone not have a broom?"
Though everyone claimed to be a proficient flyer, it turned out a fair number of his hopefuls had not come prepared. Alexander sighed deeply. "Well, everyone who doesn't can fetch one from the school's stock. Fiona, can you show them the way?"
"Of course!" she said and turned to the crowd. "Follow me!" she said and turned to the crowd. "Anyone who does not have a broom, follow me!"
About half a dozen or so of his housemates shuffled after her and they were forced to wait a good ten minutes. To his relief, he spotted a stocky witch in her forties stepping onto the far side of the pitch and then stalk towards him, her typically ill-tempered expression on her face.
"Professor Saint," he greeted the school's flying teacher and Quidditch coach.
"Mr Bay, I see you are off on a good start. Three Hufflepuffs are in the infirmary. See that you do not add to that number."
"Yes, Professor," he promised her, devoid of any confidence on the matter. Alexander was fairly sure things would start going south the moment the bludgers were released, not that he really cared. He was counting on the bludgers to separate the cream from the crop. If the price for a winning lineup was a few of the washouts spending quality time in the infirmary, then that was, as far as Alexander was concerned, a price he would be perfectly happy to pay.
"So, Mr Bay. What is your plan?" the teacher asked, her voice as grim and ill-tempered as ever.
"Find out who can actually sit on the broom for now. Everyone goes up. We fly a few rounds around the grounds. Anyone who can't keep up will be eliminated."
Once his hopefuls had gathered up again, looking like the miserable lot they undoubtedly were, Alexander swung his leg over his broom and kicked off, and rose a few feet into the warm late summer air.
"Now that everyone has a broom, I want you to get air-born and follow me. We are going to take a little trip around the Hogwarts grounds. Try to keep up," he declared.
Some of them seemed to be alarmed at the prospect of taking to the air so soon. His old team members at least took to the air with little hesitation and quickly rose to his altitude, while the rest of the Ravenclaws took a few moments longer. Alexander noted that some of the second years seemed to be barely able to stay on their brooms. Well, he told himself. He was obliged to give everyone a chance.
"Follow me!" he yelled and accelerated off in the direction of the northern goal hoops. His old team members, and a few of the other students, kept pace quite well. The other half, Alexander noted, seemed to struggle to stay airborne.
Professor Saint, clearly having come to the same conclusion he had, also rose into the air and hollered at the most inept to get back to the ground, saving him from having to make the undoubtedly unpopular call. Alexander looked down at the small crowd. He spotted Amalia and Maxwell staring back up at him, and suppressed the impulse to wave.
Once the rest of his hopefuls had caught up to him, he waved at them to follow, and slowly sped up in the school's direction, climbing in altitude as he did. Fiona and Lavanya, his two boldest team members, soon caught up and formed up into a left echelon. Frederick and Hector also caught up, though didn't quite fall into formation with them, while the rest of the hopefuls hurried after them, resembling a cloud of graceless pigeons.
Alexander led them in a broad circle around the Hogwarts grounds, periodically increasing the pace to test the agility and endurance of the hopefuls. They flew low over the Black Lake, the spray of the water cool under the afternoon sun, then up and around the tallest spires of the castle, weaving between them. The thrill of flying brought a grin to Alexander's face, but he kept a close eye on the group, noting who struggled and who seemed as comfortable in the air as they were on the ground. With any luck, Professor Saint would remember to keep track of the hopeless cases, as he was not confident he could remember them all. A few, he was pleased to find, had turned back earlier, giving up their goal of joining the team as a hopeless case.
By the time they landed, Alexander was getting a relatively good feeling for those he was interested in, and those not team material. In short order, he split those that he was confident would not make the team, and those that there was hope for, and after thanking the first group, roughly half of them, for their time, Alexander sent them off the pitch. He was pleased to find that all the previous year's team members had remembered how to fly their brooms. With a significantly smaller pool of hopefuls to work through, Alexander started off with seeker tryouts. It was the easiest to do. At first, he sent the respective hopefuls into the air, and had them catch balls that he chucked into the distance with his wand. Most failed even at that simple task, though he was satisfied with Fiona. Every time he used his wand to send yet another of those muggle baseballs down the pitch, she shot after it like a cannonball and caught every single one before it reached the apoapsis of its flight.
By the time that part of the trial had been concluded, only three potentials remained, Fiona, another girl in her fifth year, and a brown-haired chap from the third year took to the air, and Alexander released the golden snitch. For nearly five minutes, the three seekers circled around the pitch until finally Fiona dived and caught it close to the southern hoops. She returned with a triumphant grin to cheers from the stands, and not only from Ravenclaws. Especially the present Slytherins, led by Philip and Amalia, were screaming their heads off in a display of over-the-top jubilation. "So, hope I didn't embarrass myself!" she asked him quietly once she was back on terra firma.
"Between you and me," he replied in a low voice only she could hear. "Your position is safe."
Alexander was pleased to find that Frederick, Hector, and especially Lavanya, made the team again without him having to twist himself in knots. He also found himself a new third chaser, a second year named Ethan, and finally Mitchell. While not nearly what he hoped for, the alternatives had been far worse, and he was certain Mitchell could grow into a quite solid beater.
Alexander couldn't help but feel a profound sense of self-satisfaction as they tracked back towards the changing rooms as a team. Despite mostly winging the entire affair, it ended up working out better than he could have hoped for.
"Well, everyone," he finally said once the team had settled down on the changing room benches. "To the first-timers among you, welcome to the team. Welcome back to the oldies. Fiona, Lavanya, that was some pretty impressive flying out there. I will let you know when we have our first practice when the schedule comes out. Can't be more than a few days. Now, a few ground rules. Stay out of trouble. You are worth nothing to the team in detention. Keep your personal problems off the pitch and be punctual for training and matches."
Alexander was about to say more when the outside door burst open and Amalia, Philip, and what was left of the Slytherin team burst in. "You glorious bastards!" Philip yelled, smacking Alexander's shoulder hard. Amalia too smiled, greeting him with a brief kiss. "Congratulations, guys."
"Well, ladies, gentlemen," Alexander declared. "Meet the broken remnants of our Slytherin team!" The high spirits did not fade after that.
Alexander and Amalia initially stayed behind to hit the weight room adjacent to quidditch pitch. Fortunately, it was empty, and for the next forty minutes Alexander and Amalia worked out in high spirits. He prided himself on being the physically strongest student in Ravenclaw house and enjoyed the way his girlfriend looked at him during the exercise. There was also the small fact that he enjoyed being the strongest member of Ravenclaw house, although that didn't say much, and if he didn't work to maintain that, his edge would fade.
He would have stayed longer, but supper would not be served forever. So after hitting their respective showers, they hurried back across the lawn in the direction of Hogwarts castle.
"It's weird, you know..." Amalia began softly, and then grinned over at him. "I got used to spending all day with you over the summer."
"We pretty much shared a room in Barcelona," Alexander point out. "Let be reasonable here. That is a tall order in Hogwarts."
"Oh yeah," Amalia agreed and snorted. "Probably for the best, I wouldn't want to join the illustrious statistics of young witches having to sit out a few months at Hogwarts after catching a bug. Mother would flay me alive, and then officially welcome you into the family."
Alexander laughed. "I would make a sterling son-in-law. It's probably for the best," he agreed lightly.
By the time they reached the great hall, supper was reaching its end and most of the students had departed for their respective common tables.
"Alexander wolfed down two servings, keeping mostly to himself and ignoring the dirty looks from a few of the rejected hopefuls that hadn't finished up yet.
'What were they expecting?' Alexander scoffed to himself. There were only seven slots in the team, and in truth, barring unforeseen circumstances, more than half of those had never really been available.
He empties his plate just before Professor Weebler, the ill tempered, and occasionally inebriated Transfiguration Professor, rose from the teacher's desk and decided down towards them with flushed cheeks. "Chop chop!" he yelled, his voice only mildly slurring as he tried to chase them out of the great hall on unsteady feet. Not wishing to be chased off with the stragglers, Alexander took his cue.
After kissing Amalia good night in the entrance hall, they parted ways for night and Alexander made the long trek back up to Ravenclaw tower, feeling rather pleased with himself as he walked through the quiet castle. All in all, the day had been on the more productive side of things, even if he had procrastinated on a fair bit of his homework the evening before.
Truthfully, he had every ambition to do his home work. But when the door to the common room swung open, he was welcomed in by the melancholic tunes of a record player.
More people than usual were out at that hour, and of those that were barely anyone was doing their homework, like the stragglers would do at that hour. His new team was hanging out at the fireplace, chatting animatedly. He was surprised to see a flash of his brother's sliver blond hair among a larger group of students. His curiosity peaked, Alexander headed over. The mystery was solved when Alexander drew closer. He realised his little brother was facing off Evelyn, off in a chess match. Peter Mason, a seventh year, and the head of the chess club, was sitting next to the fourth year and offering advice in hushed tones while the rest of the chess club were gathered around and were watching in attentive silence. While most were following the game like a very slow and deliberate match of badminton, talking among each other in hushed tones. Evelyn Peverell, who had been a member of the clique since her first year, was staring at the board in concentration, her cheeks flushed with effort. From the looks of it, Maxwell was playing black, and seemed to be winning if the graveyard of white figures was anything to go by.
Now, while not nearly as good at chess as he was at duelling, Maxwell was a quite avid player, and had been since Alexander had introduced him to the game when he was ten, only for Maxwell to turn out and start beating him relentlessly after a day or two. While Alexander had rarely played since, his little brother had added the game to his fairly short lists of hobbies.
Alexander walked up to behind his little brother and slapped both of his shoulders from behind before resting his elbows on the backrest. "That doesn't look good at all, Max," Alexander commented helpfully as one of the white bishop stalked across the field and then smacked one of his brother's pawns of the field with its staff. Instead of answering, Maxwell sent his one remaining knight bound across the field to run down the offending clergy member.
Peter looked up at Alexander and grinned. "Good to know who got the brains in your family, and who the brawn."
"And you can take a long walk off a short pier," Alexander replied smoothly, though he wasn't overly upset.
Peter only chuckled and mock saluted before turning his attention back to the game and then scowled. "Come on, Ev. Don't make us look bad here," Peter encouraged the girl next to him.
Evelyn glanced up at Maxwell, blushed slightly, and made her next move. "Your turn," she said and smiled shyly.
Maxwell did not smile or show any other reaction, other than taking his own turn. "You are winning, right?" Alexander whispered into his brother's ear.
"Check mate, in five turns," Maxwell whispered back. "She just made a mistake."
"Well, I will leave you too it," he said and clapped his brother's shoulders again before heading over to his team and sat down among them.
"Captain," Fiona greeted him mockingly and held out a mug to him,
"What do you have for me?" he asked.
"Water," she replied with a grin.
"Water," he echoed as he stared down at the golden liquid with the ice cubes swimming in it and then took a sip of the ale. "Where did you get this?"
"Kitchens," Lavanya explained, making it obvious that she did not wish to be pressed any further on the matter.
"Good girl," he replied and bumped glasses with her and the rest of the crew.
"So, what did I miss?" he asked.
"We were getting Ethan up to speed on Chaser doctrine. He played for his town's team in Newcastle. He was their chaser, too," Lavanya explained evenly.
"That would explain how you flew so well for a second year," Alexander replied.
"Did you play too?" Ethan asked Alexander, more to play past his embarrassment.
"Yes. Now, originally I wanted to start boxing, some muggle sport you punch each other. But father made me play Quidditch instead. Stuck with it since," he explained and leaned back in his chair evenly.
Just then he spotted Maxwell rising from his chair, shake a somewhat breathless looking Evelyn's hand, and began to make his way over to them.
"Maxwell!" Fiona greeted him and scooted over to make space.
"So, did you win?" Alexander asked lightly.
"No, I fear Evelyn got the better of me after all," Maxwell replied smoothly. Alexander paused for a moment at the unexpected turn of events, but when Maxwell didn't elaborate, he did not further inquire.
"Now Hector, about what you said earlier about getting a washboard abdomen over the summer? Time to show us, the house's athletes, what you have to offer," she explained. "Alexander showed off his for the entire last year. We need some new meat."
"I will not take that personally," Alexander declared and raised his eyebrows but turned his attention to the chaser. "Come on, show me what you've got," Alexander challenged his senior beater and pulled up his own shirt to show off the one he had been maintaining for the better part of three years.
"Guys,..." Hector complained, his cheeks lighting up. "We were just drinking. Can we get back to that? I don't want to take my shirt off. Besides, we have second years here."
Ethan, the youngest among their ranks, did not seem overly concerned though, and was watching with a quiet grin, clearly enjoying the friendly banter.
"Hector, don't disappoint us. It isn't as if Frederick has anything anything to show off," Levanya challenged her fellow beater. "And Mitchel,.. from the looks of it, he hasn't skipped a single pie over the summer."
"I am perfectly happy to show off my well-insulated abdomen," Frederick assured them. "If you take yours off too, Levy!"
Alexander was just about to admonish him and Maxwell too looked like he was about to rise to his feet when his second favourite chaser, her sweet smile never leaving her lips, rammed her elbow into Frederick's well-insulated abdomen, leaving him doubled over and coughing.
"You kind of had that one coming," Fiona replied drily. "Ethan, don't as an example, please."
The boy was staring at Lavanya with wide eyes. "No, Fiona," he promised.
He exchanged a look with Fiona and he got the message that he had to make sure that comments like this stayed a one-time occurrence before their team went down the same infamous drain the Slytherins had the previous year.
"Good one," Frederick wheezed and Lavanya only smiled graciously.
The tension was finally broken by Simon and a few others coming over to join them. Making a mental note to talk to Frederik later, he settled back down. Once sure everyone was getting along, he stepped away over to the window, nodding for Maxwell to follow him.
"Well," Maxwell announced and rose to his feet. "I am calling it a night."
"Already," Alexander asked.
"Come Maxwell!" Fiona complained. "Stay. It's Saturday. No classes tomorrow, eh?"