| Details for Solo Practice |
| Summary: | Alphard and Angelus bump into each other at the Quiddich Pitch. Later Douglas arrives and has a tough time of it! |
| Date: | 1938-09-29 |
| Location: | Quidditch Pitch, Hogwarts |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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The oval of the Hogwarts' Quidditch Pitch is regulation size at five-hundred feet long and one-hundred eighty feet wide, with a small central circle of approximately two feet in diameter. At each end there are three golden posts holding the hooped goals at different heights. Sixteen towers rise high around the pitch holding seats for hundreds of spectators. During official matches every other tower is decorated in a checkered flag pattern with the colors of the opposing teams and flags representing each of the four houses pop and snap in the wind at the top of the towers. The pitch's grass remains green and vibrant throughout the year, regardless of the season, except for the sandy patches around the scoring areas and at the inner circle where all the balls are released at the beginning of the game.
Sunday has been cold and windy, and after lunch the weather hasn't changed all that much. The Quidditch gear that Angelus had gotten changed into is quite warm, so the winds that are blowing around him aren't disturbing him too much, but then he's not up in the air at the moment. He standing off to the side, near the stands, his Cleansweep Three resting against his shoulder as his arm keeps it in place. His blue eyes are looking around the field casually while he takes some time to simply think.
There were undoubtedly those who considered a Beater to be little more than a blunt tool of unsophisticated violence; unleashed onto the field for little other reason than to give a bit of bloodsport to the cheering crowds. Alphard didn't see it like that. No! To him it was a form of art, one that took both supreme skill and spatial awareness, and a keen eye for tactics. A good Beater needed to know who to hit and where to hit them, and where to fly to be in the right spot at the right time. A good Beater could one moment swoop down on the opponents' precious and bludgeon them right off the map like a dark avenging angel, and the next save the Seeker.
Really, there couldn't be any doubt at all that the Beaters were, infact, the heroes of the whole game.
He came in full Quidditch gear, carrying his prize bat in one hand, his broom in the other, and with the Bludger still asleep in its netting.
Perhaps he's playing out a test game in his mind, thinking about strategies. Or maybe he's not thinking about Quidditch at all. Either way, as his gaze wanders over the grounds as much as to the sky, his blue eyes are suddenly locking on the arriving student. A thoughtful hum escapes him as an eyebrow arches curiously, shifting his position on the ground and lifting his broom to further prop against his shoulder. A small grin tugs at his lips for a second before he starts walking in Alphard's direction. "Hey, Black," he offers, dipping his head in a nod. His eyes flick to look past the upperclassman, checking for any other arrivals, before he asks, "Is your team coming too?"
Alphard continued like nothing when Angelus approached, walking onto the field until he reached a spot he liked. Somewhere near the middle, creeping out of the shadows and into the full light of day. Eventually a cursory look flew over his shoulder at the younger boy. There might have been an upnod in greeting, but it was so minute that it could've just been a trick of the light. "No, it's just me. You?" The latter came with a sudden annoyed squint towards the main school building. It would be just his luck if the Gryffindor team came and thought they were going to have a practic while -he- was doing his solo training. His shoulders squared up already in demonstrative stubborn determination not to let anyone at all even -think- of running off the likes of him.
Angelus glances off across the field warily until Alphard answers, and he looks back to the older student with a nod. Though it would have been okay if Walthorn showed up, he really would prefer if his brother didn't. Not after yesterday evening. He shakes his head in turn, answering a simple, "No." He turns to the stands, lowering his broom to plainly hold it at his side as he grabs his Quaffle, tucking it under his arm before he follows Alphard more onto the field. "You mind if I practice with you? I'd probably have a better chance at picking up tips than from some of the Gryffindor players."
"I want to win matches, not give tricks away to Gryffindors." Alphard gave Angelus a critical look, before adding: "Besides, I had your cousin regale me about how the Eibons now think being mudsplattered is -wonderful-. Wouldn't want to catch any of that by association." With calm practice he got onto his broom, gripping the handle with one hand. The other held his bat and the bludger both. Without warning, he kicked off. Soaring up into the air above the Quidditch field, he couldn't help but show off a bit of skill, doing some quick fancy maneuvers to warm up to.
A smirk touches his lips at the statement about winning matches. "Well-" He starts off only to be cut off at his additional words. His first response is to gape, but only for a second as he frowns deeply. After letting the Quaffle fall to the ground he drops his head into his hand so that his fingers massage his forehead, letting out a heavy sigh. For several seconds he says nothing, considering until he shakes his head and glances skyward, eyes tracking the Slytherin's movements. Well, Angelus isn't going to yell out, especially with the wind. Swinging a leg over his broom, he flicks a hand as an attention grabber as he flies up. Only when he's closer will he ask, "Which cousin? I would have to blame their mother," he points out, making a point to address her by their mother than by 'aunt.' "She poisoned them."
"The one who is in love with her feet. The stuttergirl. Maybelyn? Flabbelyn? Muddelyn?" Alphard came to a hover above the field as the younger boy caught up with him. Up high the wind was stronger, causing the Black's thick mane of dark hair to ruffle and lick against his pale face. "It's almost sad to see. You'd think -someone- who cared about the family name would have the courage to do something about her. Oh well." It was said with a haughty little sniff and a toss of his head.
Shrugging, he gripped the Bludger's prison while just holding onto his broom with his knees. "Fine, let's practice. We'll release the Bludger and I'll try to keep it off you while you fly around evasivly like you're trying to score." Without ceremony, he dumped the Bludger out.. then WHACKED it. Fly little iron ball! Of course it was soon going to turn around and come straight back at them with a vengeance.
For a moment Angelus is in disbelief. He can't help it; the annoyance causes a grimace on his face as he glances toward the castle. Another heavy sigh escapes the youth. "I wish there was something I can do," he declares as he turns to look back at Alphard. "I thought she was going to cost me chances of getting into the Magijugend." He frowns deeply, shooting a brief glance towards the castle. "But thankfully I'm too important and Flint realized what an asset I'd be." His hands grip the front of his broom, leaning a little more forward, as his eyes track the Bludger's first movements after being smacked. But then he's returning his gaze back onto the Slytherin. "Wait, what would you do about it?" He starts to drift a little through the air, not going all that terribly fast right now. He's got questions!
"There's always something you can do," Alphard said with a distracted tone. His dark eyes were glued to the Bludger with fanatical intensity, and his lips were pressed in a thin hard line. The whole of the boy was the picture of coiled action waiting to be unleashed as he waited for the Bludger to come back and try to wreck them both. Since Angelus was just drifting, the Slytherin simply stuck to circling around him. "Though *I* would never have to do anything. No Blacks would disgrace themselves like that! And if they even got -close-, then they'd be pulled out of school and put somewhere dark and miserable and out of sight until they learned better!"
Voooom! Target locked, and the Bludger went straight for Angelus, a spinning ball of iron, a blurred high speed menace. Grinning, Alphard twirled his bat in preperation.
A smile cocks lightly and only partly across his face as Angelus looks away, keeping an eye out for the Bludger. Though he's going to trust Alphard to keep it off of him, that doesn't mean he's going to let his guard down. Those things really hurt, despite the padding the gear offers. He listens to Alphard's words, but he doesn't comment yet, suddenly taking off at a faster pace while he thinks over the conversation. His control and maneuvering of his broom is done well as he flies, though he cautiously slows down a tad whenever he turns, skidding into the movement. Turning the broom partially to the side to slow down, eyes flicking around warily for the Bludger, he shoots a glance over to Alphard. "My father wouldn't let our name be disgraced. He's sitting back and judging before he makes his move." Angelus is pretty confident about that, that his father has everything under control. "It's only her," he adds in. "Dryden would stay on our side." He then frowns, quite darkly as he his eyes distance themselves he's clearly thinking of something. "I'm not even sure it's Evelyn's fault. It's that girl. Rosen," he says the name rather spitefully. "It's the reason my brother is re-thinking things too." He draws in a breath, arching a brow as he tilts his head, watching Alphard. "I want to take her down a notch, take away that title that shouldn't be hers." You know. Prefect.
Still only half listening to the younger boy, Alphard waited until the last second before he swung the bat. WHOMP! The impact shook its way up the entierty of his arm, a pleasently electric vibration. The bludger on the other hand went flying away towards an imaginary target. In his head the ghost vistage of said Rosen girl appeared, only to have her head bashed open by the iron ball. Alphard smiled, then prepared himself for the vicious ball to return any moment now. "Whatever. Seems to me like you're making excuses. -I- think Muddelyn has made her choice, and that it doesn't really matter -who- put her up to it. If your father's waiting to judge, perhaps you should help the judgement along. It's not like he's here right having to listen to her jibberish.." This time the Bludger was targeting Alphard himself. He waited until the last moment, then WHACKED it again. Since he was a kid, this was his favorite thing in the world.
"Well.. if she's seen to do something against school policy, and Flint's the one who gets alerted.. then I'm pretty sure he'll do the 'right' thing."
A wide grin crosses his face as the Bludger is whacked away. Impressive, but the thought does cross his mind that he certainly hopes Garrett can knock it back. Angelus would deny that, about making excuses, but instead he just smirks and shifts his shoulders. "She'll be taken care of," he says certainly, his shoulders rising before he darts through the air on his broom again. This time as he closes his distance to the Slytherin he only slows down a little, only flying around and circling to keep close. "Yea, well, I don't really want her ordering me around in the meantime," he comments lightly before letting out a sigh. His eyes flick off, looking towards the castle and arching a brow as an owl soars in the distance. It's not /his/ owl, and he curiously and thoughtfully watches the avian in this windy weather before it disappears around the castle, slowing in his pace until he's only hovering. "I have to go," Angelus suddenly pipes up as he shoots a look to Alphard. Not to mention that it's getting time to warm up inside the castle. "Thanks for letting me join your practicing."
When he darts to the ground, once his feet are on the ground he takes a moment to fix his hair. While the wind tousled it from its rather purposeful style, he basically slicks it back to keep it neat. Then he picks up his Quaffle, propping his broom against his shoulder as he turns his gaze upward to offer a dismissive wave to the sixth year Slytherin.
"Who said you had to wait?" Alphard asked. "Like Grindelwald says.. 'For the Greater Good'. Someone 'impartial' just has to 'see' her leave the scene of a.. 'crime', and then run along to Flint to tell him all about it. Perhaps a second witness to corroborate. Nobody even has to say she did anything wrong. All she has to do is look like she did. Anyway. It's your problem, not mine." With that he shrugged away Angelus' departure and went back to practicing. Quite obviously not caring much one way or the other, beyond the 'helpful' advice of how to deal with the 'lesser'.
The athletic sixth year was in the air, on his broom, a beater in his hands. HE'd released a Bludger earlier, which was now whizzing about the field; a murderous blur of spelled-iron doom. It was supposed to just keep coming after Alphard once he was the sole player. But if anyone else came around, well, they were risking a good whopping.
As one Gryffindor leaves, another enters, as the saying goes. Or something like that. The entering boy, however, looks somewhat less prepared for Quidditch, having neither bludger nor broom, and wearing only a singlet and shorts. Douglas pauses at the bottom of the stands, glancing up to the skies to satisfy himself he isn't interrupting a game, before bending down to stretch out his muscles. This is his first mistake, the released bludger finding its shorts-clad target and screaming down to thunk into the boy's rear end. Straightening in shock and turning to raise fists to whoever hit him, Douglas makes his second mistake, punching the bludger away with one unarmoured hand before yelping in pain and gripping his wrist tightly with the other hand.
A decent and responsible young wizard would have swooped down immediately to come to Douglas' rescue. After all it was -his- bludger that was doing its best to bash the Gryffindor senseless. Apparently Alphard Pollux Black wasn't either of those things, because all he did was throw his head back and roar his laughter into the breeze. "Merlin's bloody beard.. just.. hahahaHAHaha.. if you, if.. if.. if you could just.. hahaHAhahah.. if you could just look at yourself!" Laughing so hard, infact, that he had difficulties keeping balance on his broom. Suddenly he pitched a bit too far forward, and had to hastily readjust before he was dropped to the ground. "Oh for the love of! Run this way!"
Douglas flips two fingers of his uninjured hand upwards, rolling his eyes. On spotting the bludger coming again for him, however, he drops into a crouch and takes off running, showing an almost shocking acceleration for a wizard, sprinting a good half the length of the pitch in barely twenty seconds until he passes Alphard at full pelt, yelling, "Catch it, then! Catch it!"
"Oooops!" He missed, barely, and if it was slightly suspicious that the Slytherin Beater would foul up when the Bludger wasn't even coming straight at him, let alone in the complete absence of opposing players to interfere, then the smug look on his face didn't exactly exonerate him. So the Bludger kept chasing the runner. "Just duck and come back around. I'll hit it this time. I promise!" There was a chuckle in his voice that threatened to become a high pitched boyish giggle.
Douglas glances back over his shoulder, gritting his teeth as he pounds towards the end of the pitch, throwing himself to the sand at the end there to skid a good two or three yards as the bludger whizzes scant inches over him. Scrabbling once more to his feet as the bludger begins to loop around, he takes a deep breath and launches into another run for the centre of the pitch, pace now not quite as remarkable as it was. Sprinting is one thing. Stamina is quite another.
Alphard's black eyes watched the close call without even a hint of sympathy. If anything there was a queer sort of predatory delight at work there. It took until the very last split second before he made up his mind, and even then it was with a heavy heart. His bat WHOMPED into the Bludger, sending it flying not back the way it had come, but rather straigth down into the ground. With a grunt he followed after, jumping onto it and pinning it down with his weight. Soon after he had it disarmed and back into its sack.
And as the threat is contains, Douglas slows to a halt, bending over and panting to regain his breath. He waves a hand at Alphard to get his attention, noting breathlessly, "How could you miss that? Are you… the worst beater ever?"
"Now, now. No reason to be crass, Macmillian," Alphard said with a pearly white grin. "Just got a bit of sun in my eye. You know how it happens." Even if the sun at present was hiding behind some clouds, not to mention in the wrong place completely. "Even the best Beaters miss occasionally. Besides, if you'd seen yourself you would've had trouble doing anything but laughing yourself. I mean, have you been -practicing- looking that stupid, or does it just come naturally?!"
"Natural," Douglas responds automatically, letting out a long breath and swinging his arms as he straightens up. "Everyone's got one talent. Looking like a tit is clearly mine," he adds goodnaturedly. "Didn't realise anyone was still here. Early practice, is it? I mean, you need it, so fair play…"
"Please! I'm the best beater in the whole school, and everybody knows it!" Whether it was true or not was completely irrelevant. Alphard believed it. Nonchalantly he swung his back up and propped it against his shoulder. "But yeah. I was just doing a little bit of extra training. Trying out some new techniques I'll use to destroy with this year. What about you, anyway? What're you doing here?"
Douglas pauses a moment to think, before deciding on a long, drawn out, "Traaaining..?" He shrugs amiably, lifting a leg and hugging it to his chest to stretch the muscles there, hopping on one leg to keep his balance.
"You don't look like you're training," Alphard countered. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, before he added with a bemused snort: "I'm more likely to believe you were just trying to ambush some of the female Quidditch players."
"Well, I wasn't," Douglas admits thoughtfully, "but I like your thinking. Some of them are reaaally easy on the eye, ken?"
For a split second there Alphard suffered under a state of shifty-eye, then he got it under control. "Sure, whatever. On the field I'm much too busy knocking them senseless to pay any attention to that, really. Besides, most of them wouldn't be suitable anyway." For reasons to do with the magijugend symbol that hung down from around his neck in the form of a silver pendant. "Whose your infatuation of the week?"
Douglas snorts a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, come on. Just because you wouldn't want to take them home doesn't mean you shouldn't have a quick look every now and then. I mean, there's a famous muggle out there on all the billboards, and muggle or not, I certainly wouldn't kick her out of bed for crumbs. MASSIVE set of… you know whats," he explains, waving his hands in front of his chest knowingly.
"-I- would," Alphard declared stubbornly. "I wouldn't just kick her out of my bed, I'd hex her, jinx her, and turn her into the ugliest little toad the world has ever seen, for the -audacity- of having tainted my bed. Then I'd burn the bed and the sheets for good measure." He rolled his eyes at that frontal gesture of the Gryffindor. "Muggles just look weird. There is no way I would ever find one attractive."
"Ha! I'd have them in an instant," Douglas admits cheerfully, folding his arms. "I mean, for one night, why not? It's not like you're going to marry one."
"It's the principle of the matter." Alphard declared, nose high and arrogant superiority written large across his pale features. "One moment you're snogging one, the next you're spending the night.. and then suddenly you're confused and end up marrying them. Or just making her pregnant. Either way it's a slippery slope. Besides, like I said, they walk weird, talk weird, look weird. Everything about them is just weird and filthy." A little involuntary shiver ran down his spine, like someone had just poured a glass of ice water into his collar.
Douglas shakes his head. "There's no 'confused' about it. I mean, can you imagine taking one home? It'd be carnage. Snogging's one thing but you're not going to spend your life with them, are you? I mean… just… why? Why would you? But hey, if you don't want to ogle the mudbloods, you can for sure send them my way. My perving standards are pretty low."
"Too many good wizards and witches have ended up caught in the web of their sinister forces. The clear solution is just to not associate at all." Alphard picked up his broom and slung it over his shoulder to join with the beater he'd already resting there.
"-Obviously-," snobbishly declared when it came to Douglas' low standards for perving. "Anyway.. I think I'm gonna head back."
Douglas wiggles his fingers. "Mind you don't get caught in the web of mysteeeeerious sinister forces," he warns, breaking into a laugh. "See you later. If anyone asks, I'm not here."