Jack O'Neill (Lyra)
Mon Jun 9, 2014 10:19

Quidditch lessons felt like a huge waste of Jack’s time. Of course he knew how to play Quidditch, who didn’t? Mentally he corrected himself, the Muggleborns would be clueless. Not that Jack had met many of them yet. Jack hadn’t really made any friends at all which was proving to be distressing. One of the main goals in his young life had always been to make friends fast and be popular. He hardly thought wanting to be well liked was a negative thing but when things failed to go to plan it could really put a damper on your mood.

Classes had not been terrible however he had never really had proper homework before. Without his Ma keeping an eye on him and making sure the work got done, Jack was falling behind. Who could be bothered to write an essay on a potion he would probably never even need to make? He spent much of his time out on the pitch or in the Rec Centre, avoiding the library like the plague. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of all the bookworms cooped up in the stuffy room straining their eyes to make out dots of ink. Perhaps, Quidditch lessons were not so terrible after all. At least he would finally bump into some decent people who shared his preference for brooms over fat novels, written by warlocks who existed long before the invention of television.

He listened to the explanation with one ear and supposed that if he didn’t make the team he could always dress up as the bird mascot and scream, “Go woodpeckers!”

Oh sweet Merlin.

It could be worse. He could be yelling his undying support for the Whales. No...he had to make the team. Immediately after the Cooper guy finished talking, he grabbed a Quaffle and kicked off the grass on a school broom.

Figures began to circle around him as they all eventually took to the sky. White puffy clouds floated above his head and if he squinted Jack was sure he could make out an elephant doing the tango with a bird. Taking this a sign from the gods he leaned forwards on the wood. It did his bidding without hesitation and zoomed to the centre of the pitch. Waving his free arm with a frenzy of energy he shouted, “Hey-hey you, catch!”

His aim was pretty good thanks to regular practice and he silently prayed he hadn’t just shot a Quaffle towards the only butterfingers on the pitch.

  • Firstie Quidditch Lessons!Estelle and Cooper Blair, Sun Jun 1 12:04
    "Well hey, this is a nice pitch," came the casual remark from somewhere up-and-to-her-left, the brown-haired man beside her carting along with ease a bulky crate tucked under his elbow while a broom... more
    • Catch! — Jack O'Neill (Lyra), Mon Jun 9 10:19
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