|
Post by birdybot on Aug 1, 2011 14:18:23 GMT -5
•• to loving tension, no pension, to more than one dimension •• •• to starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension ••
Stepping out onto the Quidditch Pitch, Marcie beamed. Back here at last! She'd practiced during the summer, of course, but nothing could quite compare to being back on the actual pitch. Outside of Hogwarts, she had to be careful not to go too high or too fast so the Muggles wouldn't see her, and of course a field was very different to the well-kept grass in an oval shape with fifty-foot high posts and raised stands dressed in the house colours. Her Firebolt 2000 was gripped in her hand. Not a twig was out of place, the handle lovingly polished; Marcie would never let her precious broom come to any harm. It was new; a gift from her uncle Harry and aunt Ginny for becoming the Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, although it was most likely also the birthday present her uncle had forgotten to get her that year. Harry understood how important Quidditch was, plus he had enough money to buy presents like this.
So far, she'd flown it a few times with her family in the holidays. She used an old broom around the dragons in Romania, for fear of it being damaged or broken by the great creatures. She mounted the Firebolt 2000 now, an excited smile on her face as kicked hard off the ground and rose into the air.
She hung a few feet off the ground at first, enjoying the feeling before leaning in slightly and moving slowly in a perfectly straight line. An idea came into her head, and she wanted to see how well her broom would be able to do this. Pulling the broom handle up, she leaned flat. The result was that her broom went from the slow movement to shooting vertically upwards. Laughing aloud, Marcie pulled her broom back to be still, impressed at how little time it took to become still. She drifted about above the pitch, loving the cooler air up here and the sheer distance the ground was to her, at last properly flying. She'd missed Hogwarts, and this was one of the many reasons why!
She flew down a little and practiced turning, trying to judge her turns perfecty so that she would zigzag between the stands. This proved easy enough at first, but, knowing that in a game she would likely have to be aware of other stuff going on around her, she then tried to achieve this while dodging, which was more difficult. Dipping, random turns in midair to dodge imaginary Bludgers, just slight movements that she would use in-game. She made it a rule to not look at the goalpost, to just try and see how good her judgement of a straight line was. This usually meant that what she thought would take her to the other goalpost would become so distorted she ended up about ten metres out. Naturally, this frustrated her, so she persistantly tried to achieve her goal, completely oblivious of anything else going on around her.
tag: Albus Severus Potter :3 words: 499 notes: obsessive flying dissorder! credits: Template - me; Lyrics - La Vie Boheme, RENT
|
|
|
Post by mj on Aug 1, 2011 15:22:20 GMT -5
Walking towards the quidditch pitch, Albus held his broomstick out and examined it quietly. The cleansweep 19 was older and rather warn, but he didn’t want to give it up; he clenched it hard at the thought. This broomstick had done great things for his quidditch playing, and it just… knew him. Now, Albus knew he was a little bit of a possessive person, but he truthfully, honestly could not replace his broom. Harry had been insisting for two years on replacing it, but Al always refused; it wouldn’t have been a problem if the broomstick wasn’t physically injuring him. Thankfully, his family was the only ones who knew, as it had never happened during a match; recently, his broom had started to lose control.
It bucked him off a number of times, and sometimes, it just dropped him. Harry had gone from “insisting” on a new broom to “enforcing” one. When Albus tried to argue that he was all right, his dad firmly stated that he didn’t want him to get hurt again. Al gave in after that; he didn’t want to get hurt either. By “again,” Harry was referring to the horrible incident in his fourth year when lightning hit the end of his broom. Al shuddered at the memory; the accident damn-near destroyed his leg for good, and it was now watched and referred to as his “bad leg”—the one that used to be dominant. It had almost ruined his quidditch career and his future, and Al would give anything for it not to happen again.
Again, his gentle green eyes found the cleansweep. The broom had broken in that accident, but he had begged and begged his mum and dad to fix it. His heart was attached to the damn thing; he’d had it since his first year, and it had always reacted faithfully to him. The least he owed it was a few more laps around the pitch.
As he arrived, however, Al noticed another person doing flips and tricks in the sky. Closer speculation confirmed that the person was actually his cousin, Marcie. A thin smile crossed his lips. He had always liked Marcie, though they didn’t get to see each other as often as they used to; his being in Slytherin caused some tension with his family, he noted. They also tended to be a little competitive, coming from different quidditch teams, though Albus was prone not to admit such a thing. He watched her a little while longer, contemplating the flips and dodges and movements—things that were clearly used in a game but looked strange alone.
Al mounted his broom and flew towards her gently, giving her distance so she could continue. He put on a solemn expression and tried not to chuckle as she tried to attempt perfection on her broomstick.
“It seems that despite your exhaustive defensive strategies,” Albus started, taking a quote straight from his father, “you still have a bit of a problem with your flying.” He waited until she turned around to wink and smile at her. “Hey, Marce.” TAGS?! marcie sofia weasley! CREDIT?! text credit goes to AMOEBA?! of caution 2.0. LYRICS?! the killers - jenny was a friend of mine WORDS?! 514!
|
|
|
Post by birdybot on Aug 1, 2011 17:15:05 GMT -5
•• to loving tension, no pension, to more than one dimension •• •• to starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension ••
While Marcie was in the air being a perfectionist, someone flew up to her and spoke. At first she thought they were insulting her, then she turned and saw her cousin's winking face grinning at her cheekily. She pretended to be annoyed, moving nearer the older boy. "Hey, Al! Trusty Cleansweep still going well, I see! It's doing well, that broom, knows you well! Is your dad still set on replacing it?" she asked. She didn't think it was fair for Harry to try and force his son to get a new broom. True, the Cleansweep was getting old, she was pretty certain that was true, but she hadn't seen any signs that it was functioning less well than usual. If it worked fine, and Albus liked it, surely he should be allowed to keep it?
Al's Cleansweep was a broom he was used to, and it was obvious in the way that he flew it that when his broom became like part of himself and he was able to fly with ease. Marcie loved her Firebolt, but it was new and she wasn't quite used to it yet, not sure of it's limits and could sometimes fumble a little with controlling it. She just needed to get to know it better and she should be able to use it easily. Her previous broom had been good, but it had been starting to get old and she had grown more relaxed in taking care of it, polishing and keeping the tail in check, and gradually it had started to struggle to keep up with its previous speed and agility. She had been glad to get a new broom, and she had sworn to take better care of this one, but it felt different. She hadn't quite adjusted to it yet.
Marcie wondered how Al's Cleansweep was faring. He must have had it for six years or so, now, it should be fine but it could be showing signs of age; bucking, tugging in one direction, that kind of thing. She hadn't seen anything like that happen so far, but Harry seemed more and more concerned about getting him a new broom. There ha to be a reason for that, right? Maybe there was something she hadn't seen about that broom, then. Still, she wasn't about to assume anything; in a Quidditch match she wouldn't underestimate another player, even if it was her cousin.
"How's being back at Hogwarts treating you? I've only had a few lessons but in every single one the teacher's rambled on about OWLs. It's kind of annoying. Did they do that for you?" the fifth-year asked, thinking back to this week's lessons. She had been looking forward to starting some awesome and more advanced magic, the really cool stuff, since she'd heard about OWL students getting to learn more awesome spells. Instead of learning the advanced spells, they'd been given coutless long ad boring lectured about how OWLs affect a witch or wizard's entire future and how their subject was the most important and how they should spend a gajillion hours studying. The only thing of mild interest that happene was the teachers telling them roughly what they'd be learning, although Marcie had already forgotton most of it since she hadn't made a note of any of it.
Enough of lessons. She was on the Quidditch Pitch, and here was little Albus. Without warning, she dived to the ground, fumbled a bit on the ground, then sped back up, a Quaffle under one arm. She grinned at her cousin, tossing the red ball from one hand to the other. "Hey, Al, catch!" she called to him, moving backwards and throwing the ball behind her.
tag: Albus Severus Potter :3 words: 617 notes: fetch, al! credits: Template - me; Lyrics - La Vie Boheme, RENT
|
|
|
Post by mj on Aug 2, 2011 1:31:11 GMT -5
“Hey, Al! Trusty Cleansweep still doing well, I see! It’s doing well, that broom, knows you well! Is your dad still set on replacing it?”
It was as if she read his mind. Albus frowned and nodded his head hesitantly. Marcie understood what he meant when he said he didn’t want to give it up. Dad understood too, as he was the same way with his wand, but that didn’t make it any easier. Harry’s wand wasn’t backfiring and sending him to the hospital wing every other day, and with Lily being as clumsy as she was, their father simply couldn’t stand to see another broom-related injury. He gripped the broomstick possessively, and though he loved the connection and understanding he felt with it, he also felt the broom’s will to buck him off at any moment.
He sighed at the thought. “Yeah, he is…” he managed, obviously disappointed. “Though this time, he’s actually going to do it. I’m pretty miffed about it, but… the old thing’s been bucking me off and dropping me. I really can’t afford another quidditch accident after what happened last time,” Al explained, glancing down at his bad leg. “One more trip like that and my quidditch dreams are done for.” Sighing, he found her eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s been a good, long ride, but I suppose it’s time to let go. I only hope the new broom works just as well.”
Setting his eyes on Marcie’s own broom, he smiled. She had very clearly been taking good care of the Firebolt, and Al knew that it would soon return the favour. Dad had been adamant about buying Marcie the broom—he was clearly very proud—and mum certainly agreed. Even Al was particularly proud of his cousin; with her hard-work and determination, she honestly deserved the captain position. With the number of seventh years on his team, Al knew his best chance at becoming captain would be the following year, though he wasn’t necessarily worried.
He chuckled when she complained about the required OWLs lectures. “Oh, it was definitely the same way for us,” he said, shaking his head at the memory. “Fifth year is a royal pain in the arse, but you’ll get through it. Defensive spells will be a big deal, I’m sure.” Adjusting himself on his broom, Albus found his cousin’s eyes again. “And you’re smart, so you really have to reason to worry—if that’s even a problem. Sixth year is… at least a little bit more exciting.”
But before Albus even had time to blink his bright green eyes, Marcie took a great dive towards the ground. He flew backwards in shock, widened his gaze, and glanced down to see what she was doing. When the grin crossed her face, and he spotted the familiar red ball in her grip, he knew what was happening… and he smiled. The words “Hey, Al, catch!” hardly met his ears before she threw the quaffle and he took off in its direction.
The speed he flew at was not describable. He felt better than he had felt all day, and in spite of the wind in his thin face, he kept his eyes wide and alert. At last, when the ball was in reach, he stretched out his right arm and used his left to tilt the broom down. Pushing the ball into his chest, he flipped forward once and turned almost flawlessly in his cousin’s direction. He grinned at her, took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the ball in his hand, and threw it back to her. For his scrawny arms, he had a pretty solid throw, and deceiving people with that was extremely exciting for Al.
Slowly flying back towards his cousin, Albus’s grin reduced a simple smile. “It’s been a while since we’ve practiced together… or even seen each other, for that matter. Being in different houses seems to do that,” he said with a shrug. “I feel like I never see any of the family anymore. How’ve you been, Marce?”
TAGS?! marcie sofia weasley! CREDIT?! text credit goes to AMOEBA?! of caution 2.0. LYRICS?! the killers - jenny was a friend of mine WORDS?! 676!
|
|
|
Post by birdybot on Aug 2, 2011 6:15:38 GMT -5
••to loving tension, no pension, to more than one dimension••••to starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension••
So Harry had been successful in pursuading Albus to get a new broom? From the sounds of it, Al didn't have much of a choice. She could remember the accident he'd had well; a match between Slytherin and Gryffindor. She'd watched it as she did every Quidditch match, not really supporting either side but perhaps leaning towards Gryffindor since she had more friends and family in that house. It had been stormy, but the worst she'd expected the players to suffer was impaired vision because of the rain. Then poor Albus had been struck by lightning, and had been sent flying off his broom... she remembered the amount of pain he was in and how even Madame Pomfrey, the experienced old well-respected witch, had been unable to fix his leg back to how it had once been.
She nodded grimly at the memory. "Yeah, you definately don't want that repeating. There's only so much Madame Pomfrey can fix, and it would be a shame if your talent was wasted. I bet any team would be lucky to have you when you leave!" she told her cousin. She wasn't just saying that to make him feel good; she geniunely thought he had a lot of talent and skill, having seen how easily he could get the quaffle past the Keeper, how instinctively he would prevent the quaffle from reaching the ground if someone failed to catch it... Slytherin had beaten Hufflepuff several times while Al was in the team, his skill no doubt counting for a good number of their points. If Al tried out for a Quidditch team, in Marcie's opinion they would be lucky to have him as a member.
Great, OWL year didn't sound like the most fun in the world... there was so much to learn and the exams sounded pretty scary, from what she'd heard, but she was confident that whatever her results, she would find something to do as a career. Astonomy was something she was sure she would fail, but at least she had subjects like Care of Magical Creatures, DADA and Charms which she enjoyed and got fairly good marks in. She was indeed looking forward to next year, completely agreeing with Al's comment of how exciting it could be. In between OWLs and NEWTs, they didn't have any important exams so could learn all the cool stuff. "Yeah, in sixth year you learn to Apparate, don't you? I've been looking forward to that... and the Patronus Charm too, although I think that's taught this year since the sixth-years all seem to have learned it," she nodded happily, wondering what other advanced magic awaited her.
Albus showed off his skill as a Chaser by catching the ball with ease. This was what Marcie thought of when she thought of his talent. To him, flying was no more difficult that walking, turning with ease and catching the ball like it was already attatched to his hand. He didn't look capable of throwing the ball as hard and fast as he just had done, something Marcie had seen surprise people countless times in-game. As the ball sped towards her, she judged where it would end up and caught it with a lot less grace than Albus had, used to being able to close her fist around the much small snitch, which would fly in random directions so she would never move ahead of it, always chasing it from behind, otherwise it would simple fly out of the way. She wasn't so good with catching balls thrown at her.
Her smile lessened a little, too, as she was reminded of how being in different houses and different years meant she didn't see so much of her cousin. "Yeah, I know what you mean! Most of the Hufflepuffs are fine mixing with any other houses, but if I'm hanging out with friends in Gryffindor, they mostly won't want to see any Slytherins. I hope none of the Slytherins give you any stick for having friends and family in other houses," she sighed. It was silly, really, how people didn't like other student just because of their house, "As for the family, we're all good in Romania. Charlie found about four different dragon eggs during the summer, so I tried to stay out of the house because of the heat. One of the babies broke the leg off a table before he released it, but it was easy enough to fix," she smiled at the memory of her dad struggling to keep the strong, bony winged creature still while he cast a tracking spell on it. "How's life at the Potter's?" she asked curiously.
tag: Albus Severus Potter :3 words: 776 notes: ^_^ credits: Template - me; Lyrics - La Vie Boheme, RENT
|
|
|
Post by mj on Aug 3, 2011 19:30:30 GMT -5
Albus wouldn’t admit it, but he was reliving the incident in his head. He still remembered the way it felt—the burn of the explosion on his tailbone and the crack of the bludger hitting him in the ribs. He remembered crashing into the towers and getting caught, and he remembered the way his body slammed against the ground when it finally ended. He could still feel the way his stomach lurched and his head pounded as though he had been hit with a brick. Most importantly, he remembered his father running to his aid and his uncle scooping him into his arms and telling him that it would be okay. And it did turn out to be okay, but not for a long, long while. Albus shuddered at the memories.
The pain had made him incredibly irritable; he’d thought he would never walk right again. He became angry and stubborn, never letting anyone help him even when he needed it. It wasn’t until the day that he couldn’t make it up the stairs that he finally broke down and accepted help. His brother damn-near carried him all the way up the step and into his room, and Albus, embarrassing as it was, had sobbed the entire way—the first time since the accident. Nobody would ever know that, of course, and James had promised not to tell. Still, the memories stuck with him.
When Marcie praised his quidditch potential, Al’s ears tinted red and a faint blush appeared under his green eyes. “Oh, stop it…” he insisted, a smile creeping onto his face. “I’m okay. It’s miss seeker-captain over here that they’ll be lucky to have.” He nodded his head at her to insist that he meant what he said; he wasn’t just saying things to flatter her. Albus had seen her persistence and excellence over the years, and she had certainly earned her spot. Even now, she had been hard at work before he showed up. That perseverance was one of the biggest reasons he got along with his cousin so well; her passion for quidditch mirrored his almost flawlessly.
Albus nodded when Marcie inquired about sixth year. “As long as you’re seventeen when the opportunity arises to take the test, you do,” he explained. Personally, Al had side-apparated alongside his father a few times, and he was finally getting used to the feeling. Thankfully, he’d be 17 in December, and he didn’t have to worry about waiting anxiously for the next opportunity. To be honest, he was more anxious than nervous; it was one of the few things he felt confident about. “If you take the elective class, you can learn the patronus this year, yeah. I don’t think they offer it in regular charms.” Albus was thankfuly that he didn’t have to worry about that either. His parents had taught him the patronus charm long ago. “You’ll perform spectacularly in all of it, I’m sure,” he told his cousin reassuringly.
Loosening his too-hard grip on his broomstick, Al listened as Marcie explained their housing situation. He couldn’t help but frown when she noted the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry. For Al, other than the general competitive edge that was just part of his personality, there was no rivalry, but that didn’t matter when it came to the houses as a whole. Being a Slytherin had make Albus into a recluse, because he always felt odd talking about his family to his housemates or his housemates to his family. For the first couple years, he turned off from everybody except Harry, who just barely managed to stop Al from completely closing into himself.
“It’s no different than the things I’ve been hearing for the past six years…” he said, when Marcie asked about his situation. “It’s either, “Did you ask the sorting hat to be put in Slytherin to get secrets for Gryffindor?” or “What did you do?” It’s not horrible—mostly just the younger students now. People find it odd that I have a brother and sister in Gryffindor while I’m the complete opposite, but I can’t say I blame them. I’m a Weasley and a Potter, after all.” He shrugged, rolling his eyes and letting the thought pass. “It’s fine.”
When she told him about Romania, he smiled again. He missed Uncle Charlie—he hardly ever got to see him—and it had been a while since the family had visited the other half of the Weasley clan. “You’re lucky,” he stated simply. “I’d love to see all the dragons and Uncle Charlie again, though we never seem to have the time.” Hearing Marcie’s next question, he managed another shrug. “Ah, same old, same old. James is obnoxious, Lily’s as clumsy as ever, and mum and dad are completely beside themselves when it comes to dealing with them.”
He chuckled. While it wasn’t entirely false, Albus loved his family and wouldn’t trade them for the world. “It’s no different from when we were kids, in a way,” he added thoughtfully.
TAGS?! marcie sofia weasley! CREDIT?! text credit goes to AMOEBA?! of caution 2.0. LYRICS?! the killers - jenny was a friend of mine WORDS?! 831!
|
|
|
Post by birdybot on Aug 4, 2011 14:14:42 GMT -5
••to loving tension, no pension, to more than one dimension••••to starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension••
It was Marcie's turn to glow red as Albus praised her on her Qidditch skills, too. It was true that the two young Hogwartians were equally matched when it came to flying, and this was something that sparked their friendly rivalry. Marcie would quite like to play for a Quidditch team when she was older. She'd sometimes considered trying out for the Chudley Cannons, the Quidditch team uncle Ron had introduced her too at a young age, the team that had made her interested in Quidditch in the first place. They were awful, she knew, but they could always improve. She could play for them in her free time, train them up and make them a decent team. Or she could try for a well-known team and probably not get in but earn more money if she did.
In fact, she wasn't too sure about what she would do in her future. Researching magical creatures appealed to her, but she wouldn't want to be as obsessive as her dad. Maybe she'd write a book about them or something, but she couldn't really see herself writing a book. Quidditch was something she'd never give up, so chances were whatever job she did get she'd keep Quidditch in practice. Maybe she would end up playing for the Chudley Cannons in her free time after all... That could be fun. For her main source of income, she might end up running a business that dealt with problems involving magical creatures; driving them away from Muggles, helping wizards and witches threatened by them, taming them if necessary, that sort of thing. She'd had that in mind for a while, but she hadn't settled on any ambition yet.
You had to be seventeen? Marcie didn't know when the test would be, but she assumed it would be sometime later on in the year around the normal end-of-year exams so that as many people as possible would be old enough. her birthday was the 29th february, so she supposed she would be old enough when the time came. She hoped so, anyway. She also made a mental note to check about that elective class. Learning to cast a Patronus was a very useful thing as it was effective against a variety of different Dark creatures that otherwise had little weaknesses.
Nodding at Al's talk of the shock of not being a Gryffindor despite being a Weasley and Potter, Marcie remembered his decline clearly. She hadn't even been at Hogwarts at the time, but when she'd visited Harry he'd always seemed pretty grim about it all. They'd recieved regular updates, too, and from the sounds of it, the shock of it had his him hard and he had thought he was a disappointment or something, or maybe it was just what everyone else was saying to him about it all. He'd obviously perked up, and the Sorting Hat wouldn't put anyone in a house in which they would be hindered, but all the same it was a relief when Albus had opened up again. You'd never have guessed the boy in front of her had been the same confused Slytherin those years ago.
Laughing at the update on the Potter household, Marcie could just picture the family arguements. However angry they seemed, there was always love there in the close family, a good atmosphere with the family always making up. "I can imagine! You been up to much over the holidays? Isn't James allowed to do magic outside of school now? Bet that was fun," she smiled.
tag: Albus Severus Potter :3 words: 682 notes: ^_^ credits: Template - me; Lyrics - La Vie Boheme, RENT
|
|