Quidditch Season

The first day of Quidditch season is tense in the Weasley household.

It's the one day, after all, where every single team plays. The matches are quick, and they fall in rapid succession, and every Weasley gets to cheer for their team—and at least one Weasley leaves in tears.

Mum grew up idolizing the Bats, but Dad is a Magpies fan, and more often than not, game days end with one of them sleeping on the sofa. Bill likes the Arrows (he'll never it admit it, but his seventeen-year-old mind finds their Keeper wildly attractive), Charlie likes the Wanderers ("Dragons are wandering creatures, Mum!"), and Percy has declared the entire institution of Quidditch to be rubbish and hides in his room on Sundays while the rest of his family crowds around the radio in the living room to listen to the commentary.

"Tornados! Tornados!" Fred and George chant in unison on the day of the first game of the season. They're decked in homemade Tornados jerseys, and they waddle around the kitchen with their broomsticks held between their legs.

"Your room looks like a tornado hit it," Mum says as she dodges one of them, holding a frying pan filled with bacon. "No broomsticks in the house!"

"Why not? We aren't flying."

"We haven't broken anything," says George as he pivots in place—his socks slide against the floor, and he spins out of control, broom whipping out behind him to sweep the dishes off the counter and onto the floor.

"George, for heaven's sake—"

"I'm not George," George says. "I'm Fred."

"Fred, then—"

"Oi!" says Fred. "He's not the real Fred. He's trying to get me in trouble!"

"Both of you!" Molly pulls out her wand to repair the broken dishes. "Out of the kitchen with those brooms!"

"You looked like a real tornado, mate," says Fred as they waddle back to the living room, where Ron, hair mussed from sleep, is sitting on the couch with his bright orange Chudley Cannons blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

George shakes his head. "The Cannons. What a team."

"I like them." Ron yawns. "Why do games start so early?"

"The earlier in the day the Cannons lose, the more time you have to get over it," Fred says.

Ron reaches out to swat at Fred. "Cannons are better than Tornados."

The twins let out a collective gasp. "Tornados won three games last year, Ronnie," George says.

"Cannons only won one."

"And it was against Pride."

"That's barely a victory."

"Tornados beat Pride even with our gimp Seeker."

"Have you ever seen a man fly with no arms?"

"Caught the Snitch with his mouth."

Ron shakes his head. "But the Cannons had the highest scoring game in the League!"

Fred snorts. "Yeah. Against Pride."

Ron sighs and readjusts his blanket. "I like them."

"Morning!" says Ginny, running down the stairs. Her face is smeared with green paint. "Has it started?" she asks, bouncing up and down on her toes.

"Who painted your face?" Fred asks.

"Bill." She grins, revealing a missing front tooth. "I'm Harpy-green!"

"We can see that." Fred sits down on the couch beside Ron and pats the cushion next to him. Ginny sits. "You think the Harpies are going to win today?"

Ginny nods furiously. "They're the only girl's team," she says. "Girls are better."

There is a chorus of protests from the men in the room, but Ginny doesn't seem fazed.

"Harpies are going to win," she says. "I don't care what you all think."

"Ginny," Ron says, "girls are rubbish at Quidditch."

"A team of girls beat the Cannons 390-30 last year," she says.

Ron throws his hands in the air. "So what? The Cannons are rubbish, too."

"At least you can admit it, Ron," Charlie says, walking into the living room with a WANDERERS poster. "Has it started?"

"Not yet." George leans over to flick on the radio. The commentators are discussing the new Seeker on the Harpies, and Ginny squeals at everyone to quiet down so she can hear.

"Breakfast is ready!" Mum says, carrying a giant platter of scrambled eggs and bacon over to the coffee table. "Plates are all washed, now that I've repaired them." She sends George a glare. "Eat up, you lot."

As the family gathers around the food, Bill comes downstairs, his hair freshly styled. "Did I miss the beginning?"

"Hasn't started." Fred points to the radio with one hand while he loads his plate with food. "How come no one in this family knows what time the games start? Eight A.M. every Sunday."

Bill shrugs. "Dunno. I've forgotten since last season, I s'pose." He winks at Ginny. "Paint's looking good."

"Go Harpies," she says, sitting back down on the couch with her scrambled eggs in a neat circle around her bacon. "Is Percy coming down?"

"I doubt it." Bill flicks his wand and says, "Accio plate." A plate flies through the air, nearly missing Fred's head, and sails into his hand.

"No underage magic," Dad says as he wanders in from somewhere outside.

"I'm of age, Dad," Bill says. "Remember?"

"Oh. That's right." Dad blinks. "I've had a long night at the office, I'm afraid."

"Well, you're in luck, the Magpies have the first game." Mum presses a kiss into Dad's cheek. "And they're playing Pride."

Dad sighs in relief. "Thank Merlin. A quick win, and then off to bed."

Bill snorts. "Pride. What a joke."

"They're worse than the Cannons," says Ron.

"Not often you can say that," says Charlie, and Ron, with a scowl, puts a bite of bacon in his mouth.

"It's starting!" says Ginny. "It's starting, everyone be quiet!"

The commentary crackles metallically out of the radio. "And here comes the Magpies Captain for the handshake—oh, it looks like he's broken Pride's Captain's wrist—and there's going to be a delay in the match, folks."

The entire family explodes into a fit of laughter.

"The officials want to move on with the day, so it looks like they're rearranging the schedule—yes! In an unprecedented series of events, the Harpies will be playing the Magpies in the first game of the season."

Ginny screams and jumps up to dance.

"A firm handshake—no broken wrists here," says the commentator.

"Girls are tough!" Ginny chants. "Girls are tough!"

"And with a first goal from the Harpies—their Chaser is quick!—let Quidditch season officially begin."

Quidditch League, Round 3:

Holyhead Harpies, Seeker

Prompt: Write about the Harpies in 950-1200 words

Word Count (MacBook Pages): 1,084