(1940-10-25) Hogwarts Quidditch 1940-41, Game 01 - Gryffindor vs Slytherin
Details for Hogwarts Quidditch 1940-41, Game 01 - Gryffindor vs Slytherin
Summary: First game of the 1940-1941 Season. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Final Score: Slytherin - 320, Gryffindor - 120
Date: October 25th, 1940
Location: Hogwarts - Quidditch Pitch



Gryffindor Team


Slytherin Team


In the Stands


Riddle is rather without his usual horde of friends. Mostly because they are all playing today. But he gets along well enough with all Slytherins and so he sits in the Green and Silver section and gives an amicable nod of gratitude when he is passed a Slytherin Spirit Banner that is really a windsock on a stick of a silver and green snake.

With a huff and a puff, Oliver ascends into the stands. Making his way up from the, the first-year lad from Gryffindor enters the first tier, before navigating further up and coming to rest somewhere near the middle. With Gryffindor scarf billowing about in the wind, Oli lifts hands to try and protect his face from the stinging breezes. His attention at first draws to the pitch yonder, before going to those around him. He appeared to be in a more general supporting section, rather than anything house specific. With a slow exhale, he begins to settle.

Lissie is sitting with the Hufflepuffs, though she doesn't seem dressed to support either team. She is wrapped in her warm cloak, aith her wool hat and wool scarf. She looks around with interest, for this is her first Quidditch game.

Just as he's about to settle, worming his butt into the seat to gain a bit more comfort, a staff member prods Oliver, informing him that he must sit with his own House! A bit embarrassed, young Oli is quick to jump to his feet and scurry to the Gryffindor section. Legs carry him briskly to the scarlet and gold stand, which he enters with a bit of relief. "Hopefully no-one saw that." He mutters to himself, glancing about for a new seat.

Druella is perched near the top of the Slytherin section, green and silver ribbons threaded gaily in her hair and tousled by the wind. She is snugly bundled in her cloak, but waves a brilliant green pennant in the air, as she breathlessly drinks in the excitement. "Can you see them yet?" she asks the girl next to her, craning her neck to see the pitch below. "Go, go, Slytherin!"

Riddle rises in his spot so that he can let Samira slide into the vacant spot next to him. A small container of caramel popcorn is offered to her. He is not the biggest Quidditch fan, but he is all about House support and Spirit and is here to watch his crew play. This doesn't mean he goes so far as to wiggle about the banner given him. He holds the stick under his arm and lets the wind do the waving for him.

Nestling into a seat and handed a Gryffindor banner, Oliver beams with delight. Support wasn't really high on his agenda initially, but the atmosphere and excitement is enough to encourage the first year boy to clap and chant with the others. Having not seen a real live quidditch game before, the gangly lad edges a bit more off his seat, swallowing hard. Eyes wide with awe, waiting.

"How are you doing, Tom?" Druella waves her pennant merrily at the solemn boy seated a few rows beneath her. Not that they're great friends, but her brother is a part of his crowd, so it seems the friendly thing to do. "Are you as excited as I am? It's my first Quidditch game!"

Riddle looks up and over his shoulder with a genteel smile. "Hello Dru. I am doing well, thank you for asking. Would you like a closer view?" There is space enough that some slight shifting can allow for the first year to come sit up closer to the action. "It is going to be a fine game. Our team is filled with potential."
On the pitch, Abraxas spends 1 luck points on To assist Walburga in the Quidditch match..

"You know, I think I will." Druella dimples and nods her farewells to the acquaintances sitting near her, before she makes her way down several rows to the better seat near the Riddle boy. "Thanks kindly! Who all is on our team?" she wonders, settling herself with much adjusting of wraps and peering from her new vantage with interest. "I know Malfoy is the Captain, isn't he? And Walburga and Lucretia are both playing, but I don't know what positions they have. It's thrilling! I'm sure the Gryffindor team is well-favored as well but I have such a good feeling about today."

Oliver starts to get more jittery as the anticipation before the match gears up. He didn't know any of the Gryffindor students around him, at least none by name, but it didn't really seem to matter! Everyone was cheering and getting geared up for the upcoming game. His eyes lift as he glances around him, scarlet streamers getting thrown everywhere in excitement. Licking his lips, he just smiles as he gazes back to the pitch. The game hadn't even started yet and it was already exciting!

On the pitch, Stepping out of the locker room, Josie isn't her usual hyper self before a Quidditch match. She smiling, but looking a little nervous too. Her first match as a seeker, she has a lot to live up to after the skill that Colton brought to the position in previous years.

On the pitch, Newly minted as Captain and Keeper of the Slytherin side, Abraxas Malfoy leads his team out onto the pitch from the locker room, cutting quite the figure in the green and silver Quidditch robes. Hopping on his broom he pushes into the air and makes a speedy circuit of the field, waving to the Slytherin stands before taking up his position in front of the hoops for warm-ups.
On the pitch, Following the Slytherin team captain comes a replacement seeker, Walburga Black. With her chin held upwards, she mounts her excellent broom and doesn't at all do anything flashy; she speeds up to her mark on the pitch, her robes of green and silver swooshing in the wind. With a glance towards the Gryffindor side she smirks at them, clearly not liking what she sees.

Riddle smiles down at Dru, he's about to explain the teams as he remembers them, but then there comes the roar to greet the players so he joins the cheer. "Seems you are just about to find out."

Oliver watches with clear delight as the students begin to parade out onto the grounds. He roars with the others when Gryffindor make their appearance, though is likewise soured when Slytherin make theirs. In fact, Walburga in particular is enough to make Oliver scoff. "SHE'S in the Slytherin team?!" He cries, slumping back into his seat with defeat. He even managed to catch a glance of her looking smugly at them.

Wren is here! She is clambering up into the Gryffindor stands, weighed down by her too-heavy scarf and a vividly bright Gryffindor pennant that is almost as large as she is (which, really, isn't saying much). She clambers through the crowd, with judicious use of her elbows thrown in for good measure. "Oliver!" The first-year shoves her way down next to her friend as the cheering for the players starts. "Yeah!" She calls, straightening the pennant and offering one of the corners of the thing to Oliver to wave. She seems too excited to talk much, raptly focused on the players below.

On the pitch, Hooch zooms about on her trademark broomstick. "Welcome to the first game of the 1940 to 1941 season. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Let's hear it for the teams!" Once everyone is in place she lifts the whistle to her lips and gives it a blow signaling the beginning of the game. With a thrust of her wand the Quidditch Box bursts open, the Quaffle soars straight up into the air. The bludgers go gnashing out in curling archs out towards the sides looking for victims to smash into. The snitch is a quick glint of gold before it disappears into the cool drizzle of this Scottish Sunday.

Lissie grins, for wriggling out of her cloak enough to take a peek is her ferret. She pats the thing on the chin, then hugs it to her. "This, y'know, is Quidditch. An' tha's all I know too, so we'll learn together, a'right?"

Leaping to her feet, Dru claps her hands together and possibly half-deafens Riddle by her sudden application of eleven-year-old volume in delighted praise of the Slytherin team as they come swooshing around the pitch. If anything, the shrillness increases when Hooch sets the balls free and the match begins. "Oh my goodness. SLYTHERIN!"

"Wren! Where have you been?!" Oliver himself is right at the /front/ of the stands, ensuring that they have a premium view of all the action. It also means they can just hang off the edge and cheer wildly! Or jeer, depending on the current play. Taking the edge of the pennant that Wren offers, the boy thrusts it up wildly. "How good is this?" He yells to Wren, forcing himself to really have to yell at her to just communicate over all the noise. "I hope Gryffindor win by a huge amount!"

On the pitch, The balls are released into play, and the game is on! Abraxas has never been so much as on the team before, and perhaps that accounts for a slightly rocky start as he gets outmaneuvered tactically by the Gryffindor captain and a few goals slip past. But then, suddenly, the Malfoy becomes an impassible wall in front of the hoops. He shows a clear skill on a broom - as befits one born a wizard - and bats the quaffle away with the bristles. "There, there!" he points to his team, shouting commands as Captain. An attempt at a goal is grabbed in sure hands and thrown down the length of the pitch, into the waiting arms of a Slytherin chaser. Goal!

As usual, Elspeth is a little low key about who she's rooting for when a Slytherin match is on. She doesn't cheer loudly, and it is time, as captain, for her to scout the two teams for their upcoming matches against Ravenclaw. However, when the teams file out, her eyes mostly follow the Slytherin keeper as he warms up and takes his place. She settles down once they've started, parchment and quill in her lap as she's taken a seat nearer the top of the bleachers in the Eagle's section where it's not so crowded.

On the pitch, Josie flies into the air as the whistle is blown, looking towards the snitch but it is gone almost instantly. She spent some time circling the pitch, keeping half an eye on the game but most looking for the snitch. Around the time that Malfoy starts doing so well, she spots the snitch behind the Slytherin goal. Leaning forward, she puts on a burst of speed, but it's not enough. By the time she gets there, this snitch is gone.

On the pitch, Watching as the bludgers curl towards their next victims and the game begins, Walburga urges her broom upwards slowly as she scans the pitch. Not seeing it, she does the next best thing, which is to begin tailing Josie but from a bit higher position; when Josie lurches towards the goals, it's then that the Black can see a glint for just the briefest moment before it seemingly vanishes. Up Walburga goes in a quick arch!

"I had to go back up to my trunk to fetch the pennant!" Wren explains loudly, leaning down to peer down at the players from their extra-great seats. When Oliver raises the flag, she does too, flapping it and hollering loudly, excitedly. "It's amazing! Your first match, right?" The girl screams to be heard over the crowd, momentarily giving into the urge to just yell some more. She hops up and down a little when the balls are freed, but — then, Malfoy scores, and the girl gives a halfhearted flail of discontent. "Come on, guys! Yeah!"

"Yeah, my very first! I know all the teams and rules, too!" Is the yelling-reply to Wren. Oliver had ensured to spend the entirety of last night reading up on the rules for this game, discarding some already overdue Potions homework to do so. He'll probably regret that, but not right now.
The thrill of the seekers playing mind games with each other has Oliver enthralled. Not even the scoring from a Slytherin chaser is enough to bring him down. His eyes seem almost transfixed on the two seeker's, who are almost playing their own game within the game. "COME ON JOSIE!" He yells, leaning over and belting the side of the stand with an open hand.

On the pitch, Hooch keeps her hawk eyes on the game, it's a whirlwind of action and the slight smile on her face shows she is admiring the sport at hand. She announces each score with equal enthusiasm for Gryffindor and Slytherin. The dizzle has picked up to a heavier rain and the sun has shifted in the sky as the game spreads out into mid-afternoon. It seems a good time to call scores and she blows on her whistle again to announce that currently, "Gryffindor at 70 points, Slytherin in the lead at 90 points. Excellent sportsmanship!"

Riddle cheers perhaps a touch bit more for the Knights on the team, but really for anyone on the Slytherin team making a good show gets a hearty applause. "It's quite the game, the teams are much younger students this year. It makes for longer games."

Wren is in it for the long haul; after a while, she drags a cloth-wrapped package out of her pocket, and shoves it into Oliver's face to get his attention. "Spiced pasties!" She hollers, not wholly taking her eyes off of the pitch as the players continue. The chasers and keepers have the majority of her attention — their maneuvering is exciting. "How are you liking it!" The girl adds, flailing the pennant high as one of the players goes flying by.

On the pitch, With a near neck-breaking stop, Walburga pauses her flight to see just where the snitch has went. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies her teammates trying to send another set of points and she nods in satisfaction before seeing that the snitch is racing over towards the Gryffindor benches. "No!" she shouts, and she speeds as quickly as she can, dropping low to the ground as a bludger zooms over her shoulder and weaving through the chasers. She's flying close to the benches, and as she's getting closer to the Gryffindor benches and the snitch, she lets a gloved hand off her broom to reach out. Straining, she's attempting to get it. Will she?

"You don't play, yourself?" Druella inquires of Riddle, in a lull after the score announcement and the cheering that obligatorily follows it. "I've never had much interest, but the atmosphere is very thrilling."

On the pitch, Abraxas is looking quite good as Keeper and captain both. He commands his troops about the pitch and meanwhile continues a long dry-spell, holding the Gryffindor scoreless for a painful amount of time for their side while the Snakes pile up a slow trickle of goals in singles and pairs. Passing off the quaffle after another blocked shot he brings his broom up short and shouts, "Get it, Black!"

Oliver takes the pastie with delight and munches upon it. The various flavours and tingles fuel his spirit even more, where he thrusts an arm out again as a bunch of Gryffindor chasers wizz by at full throttle. "It's awesome!" The boy beams to Wren, taking his eyes off for naught but a second to give his friend a decent reply. "You're going to actually PLAY this sport? It's so fast! You must be epic on the broom."
Somewhat alarmingly, his eyes dart down to Walburga chasing the snitch hard, about to grasp it. The youth takes a breath, focussing on her every move. "She's about to get it!" If she wins this game for them it will be the worst result possible! For Oliver, anyway.

On the pitch, Josie is looping around as she sees Walburga make her move towards the benches. Pushing her broom as hard as it will go, she catches up with the other seeker but can't quite get past her, making the race for the snitch neck and neck. She reaches out her arm as well, and for a moment it looks like either of them could catch at any second. Then, however, the snitch slips through a crack in the stands, and both have to pull up to avoid crashing into the audience.
Loudly, Riddle says, "Good Show! Well done!"

Wren has an entire pasty shoved into her mouth, and is too busy chewing to reply for a minute, instead doing an excited little dance and throwing the pennant around joyously. They might not be winning, but it could happen still! "I'll show you how! I've got some awesome moves learned!" The girl yells, excitedly, pumped in spite of the Gryffindor score-drought. Then the Slytherin seeker is streaking right for them, and Wren stops yelling, eyes going very wide as she watches Josie catch up with the other seeker. "COME ON!" The first-year finds the voice to bellow, but then the snitch goes under them, and the pair have to pull up. Wren laughs delightedly, in spite of the missed catch, watching them go by with wide eyes.

Elspeth leans forward as she watches the two seekers hurtling towards the stands, holding her breath. As the snitch dives between the benches and the two pull up, she settles back into her seat, returning her gaze to the pitch.

On the pitch, Hooch is thrilled by the close action between teams over the snitch. So she reminds everyone what the score is after the cheering has died down. The roar of excitment was thunderous enough that she realized not ever her volume enhanced voice would be able to be heard. She opens her mouth, but there is another interuption in the form of actual thunder rolling in the distance beyond the village. Finally it looks like there's oppertunity to announce, "Gryffindor at 70 points! Slytherin at 100 points!"

"What if they crashed into the stands?!" Oliver cries out to Wren, apparently happy enough to ask her any and all questions that shoot through his mind. "That is mega dangerous! And you think cars are bad." Oli muses to Wren, a smirk on his face. This is brief though, keen to see where the seeker's are off to next. With a lick of his lips, he looks to the scoreline again. "Come on." He mutters, gripping his end of the flag tightly.

On the pitch, By now Abraxas, like everyone else, is soaked from the rain. Water flies from the bristles of his broom as he swoops around the hoops, doing his best to keep the Gryffindor at bay and blocking a goodly number of shots, including an impressive stop where he holds ground against a break-away, ending the scoring opportunity in a bone-jarring collision. He rallys his team in the defensive zone, taking opportune shots at the opponent's hoops and continuing to mount the score more quickly than the team in burgundy.

Poor Druella's ribbons are sodden now, together with her cloak and the rest of her hair, but she actually doesn't seem to care a bit, cheering wildly when the score is announced again. "They won't crash," she crows with certainty as Walburga whips by them. "Look at how they - oh!" She winces as the midair collision takes place, looking pained but impressed.

On the pitch, For Josie, things calm down for a while. A few times, she catches a glimpse of the stitched in the distance, but can't get close to before it's gone again. Sighing a little, her attention turns to the game itself, biting her lip as Abraxas organizes the enemy team so well.

"Then we'd be in a right tangle, wouldn't we!" Wren yells back, evidently delighted at the danger of it all; or maybe just completely off her nut. "Healers! They'd sort it!" She adds, more helpfully, craning to watch the seekers move back off, then flicking her eyes to Hooch. "Muggles don't have skelegro, Oli!" The girl laughs, eyes focusing on Malfoy briefly when he makes the impressive save. A grudging kind of grin is all the cheering she does for it — he blocked her team, after all — but she does keep a closer eye on the keeper.

On the pitch, Black's quidditch robes brush the face of a Gryffindor as she pulls upwards to escape from blasting herself in the stands. Swoosh! With an angry shout at herself for missing the snitch, she speeds off to chase Josie down. Dodging a bludger from taking her head off, it hits her small shoulder hard, sending the Black speeding towards the right of the pitch for a moment until she regains her senses. With a scowl and a dark look in her eyes, on she rockets towards Josie, taking an opportune moment as she winds through the chasers as rain begins to patter down from the storm clouds, she flies her broom very quickly from the right pitch towards the middle as she hits a Gryffindor chaser with a shove of her sore shoulder. "Dirty mudbloods!" she says to the specific chaser who she maybe accidentally hit. A clap of thunder causes her to look over her left and there it is, the snitch in the rain speeding towards the ground! Like a flash of lightning, Walburga heads to the snitch, hoping that Josie doesn't see.

On the pitch, Hooch announces, "Gryffindor has 120 points, Slytherin still leading with 160!"

"Y-yeah, I guess they would be." Oliver replies to Wren, perhaps stunned by her response. But really, what exactly was he expecting? "That's true." Oliver replies with a grin to the spell and healing magic, forcing his shoulders to roll in a shrug. Regardless, he goes back to cheering, devouring the rest of his pastie with wild abandon.
"Do games normally go this long?" He queries to Wren, another glance going to the scoreboard. Both teams had hit triple figures. "Starting to get a bit wet!" An understatement to be sure.

On the pitch, Josie can be perceptive, and even though she's watching the game, she spots Walburga start to give chase.. Once again, she speeds forward to start catching up, once again bringing the chase neck and neck. She's not as aggressive as she possibly could be, making no moves to try to bump Black out of the way, simply racing her.

On the pitch, The sun is just starting to set, the rain parts for a few minutes, like the weather is trying to highlight the gorgeous setting behind the Scottish mountains. A golden glint shines and for a moment it could possibly be Hooch's hair catching the light. But then it moves and unless Hooch's hair has become sentient, or she's finally actually growing real eyes in the back of her head the snitch is being a sneaky thing. The buzzing catches her attention and she turns and wags a finger at the snitch. "Sneaky little devil. Off with you now." She waves her hand in a shoo and glittering in the sunligh the snitch zips off to tantalize the Seekers once more.

Riddle gave a slight shug, "I don't mind spectating, just not very competative in all honesty." His head tilts towards Samira to better accept a whisper from her. He then looks the other direction. "On the bench, Samira's coming through." He offers a hand to Druella to help her step up and back onto the bench. The rest of the bench to the aisle do the same thing. Once Samira has passed he offers to help Dru down again. Then he returns his gaze to the game. "You alright Druella? Do you need a drying spell?"

Wren jeers loudly any time the players close in in the stands, craning dangerously to watch them bolt by. The rumble of thunder doesn't seem to bother her; she just cheers louder, voice a little hoarse. "Don't worry, Oli! It'll be fine!" The girl laughs, shaking her hair a little; it's gone tightly curled, a damp mane around her head. "Some last for days! Weeks, even." She calls, looking partly thrilled at the notion — as if spending a few days sitting out in the cold rain would be the best thing in the world. "I have got to learn a warming spell, though! Can't feel my feet any more."

On the pitch, Abraxas catches the quaffle as he deflects a shot from the Gryffindor chasers, then motions to one of his own chasers, putting him at least in the area before the quaffle - completely accidentally, we're sure - is thrown straight towards where the Gryffindor seeker will be. "Black! BY MADAME HOOCH!" He spins to blck another shot, sending the quaffle flying off the rear of his broom and then kicksaving another, jumping from the broom, wincing as the ball hits his padded shinguard, then vaulting himself back up into the saddle.

"Hmm? No, I'm all right." Druella seems mesmerized by the action on the field, now that the rain has momentarily paused, and she leans forward, resting her chin on her fist while her eyes dart back and forth, following the chasers and the progression of the quarrel. The snitch is someone else's problem: she isn't even attempting to locate it, instead focusing on the goals that are being scored or prevented.

"Still better than the lake!" Oliver smirks to Wren, feeling his own now-soaked feet in the sock. Anything is better than standing in those shallows on the cusp of dawn. When the sun sets, Oliver's eyes squint in the fading light. "WEEKS?" Oli gasps at such a thought, these students playing quidditch for weeks and weeks until someone finally found the snitch. "That's wicked! Imagine if they play all night? We'll get to miss out on classes tomorrow!" And Oli will have time to do that homework. Score!
He starts cheering again, waving the flag around and hollering as loud as he can.
On the pitch, Josie sees the snitch, right by Madam Hooch, as she races with Black towards it. She's actually in the lead, for a moment, and it looks like she might be the one to reach the snitch first. Then, however, the Quaffle comes flying at her, and she has to swerve, losing her precious seconds.

"Anything is better than the lake, Oliver!" Wren's attempt at a prim tone is kind of offset by the fact that she still has to speak pretty loud to be heard. Also, she's gone wholly hoarse now, sounding thoroughly like she could use a good cup of hot chocolate. "Weeks!" She does confirm, laughing wildly at the idea of camping out in the stands all night, and not having to go to classes in the morning. Maybe that's what'd happen, maybe not, but it's a nice daydream anyhow. "They've seen the snitch again!" She calls, thrashing the pennant enthusiastically with Oliver and raising her voice again to cheer on the Gryffindor seeker.

On the pitch, When Abraxas points out the snitch giving her a lucky advantage, Walburga immediately clings to her broom to make a more sleek form and speeds it down as fast as she can although Josie is in the lead. The distance closes until they're nearly side by side, each of them wanting to catch the snitch as they blow past Hooch's hair that the snitch was hiding in. But there's a bit of luck on the shoulder of Walburga, or maybe the devil takes care of his own, the Black sees a quaffle coming towards them and she spins with a sloth grip roll so that the quaffle will hit Josie - but the Gryffindor takes the choice of dodging the ball which allows Walburga to stretch out her gloved hand and clasp her fingers over the snitch, catching it! And in good time too, as she pulls her broom up just before she slams into the stands. Holding the snitch up victoriously, she makes a beeline to her captain and team mates.

Oliver's face falls when Walburga wraps her fingers around the snitch and catches the thing, meaning an instant victory for the Slytherin team. Exhausted from his extended cheering and hollering, Oliver falls back onto his seat and stares up into the sky above. "I can't believe we lost! Josie was so close. Someone tried to take her out with a quaffle though!" It was a cunning tactic. "I feel so exhausted just watching it." He breathes over to Wren, finally letting go of his end of the huge Gryffindor flag.
On the pitch, Josie's shoulders slump and she stops to hover mid-air to watch Walburga fly back to her team, before she turns and does the same, flying back over to the Gryffindors looking rather downcast.
On the pitch, Abraxas pumps his fist in the air in a more demonstrative gesture than is usual for him - but it's his first win as Captain, and that's rather a big deal. He brings his broom forward and gives the Black scion a wry grin and a salute, "Nicely done, Black. That'll show them!"

On the pitch, Hooch must actually fly backwards to avoid the snitch action. She's lucky to have gotten some distance. Her eyes are wide as the final actions of the game happen literally right in front of her. When Walburga's fingers wrap around the snitch she blows on the whistle in such a way that it signals the end of the game. "Slytherin WINS! Final score: Gryffindor, 120. Slytherin, 320 points!" She claps neutrally and turns to address the crowd. "Let's hear it for that amazing game! Let's all file back to the castle in an orderly fashion before it gets too dark."

As if on cue, to remind the whole campus why they should get to the castle before it gets dark is what might be a peel of thunder comes from the forest. But it's not from the sky downwards this time. It rumbles deep from the bowls of the mountains and echoes furiously up to the heavens. "Everyone, calmly file. Again what a wonderful game. Congratulations Slytherins."
Loudly, Druella says, "Druella's excitement reaches a fever pitch as she springs to her feet, waving her pennant madly and cheering herself hoarse. Poor Riddle. "Walburga, you're -amazing!-" she screams into the celebratory din of Slytherins."
On the pitch, Walburga moves off of the Quidditch pitch.

And then Black catches it, and Wren droops a little, cold and dripping in the stands; but not jeering or booing, at least. "You're not even supposed to use the quaffle for that! That's what the bludger's for!" The girl rolls her eyes, and slings the now-dropped pennant around her shoulders like a soaking wet cape. Maybe it provides a little extra warmth. "They needed to get it together. Honestly. Maybe next time they'll play better, though." She muses, still loud over the sudden peal of thunder. The first-year glances over at the dark mass of trees warily, but eventually decides against worrying, instead nudging Oliver with her shoulder. "C'mon, food!"

Riddle leans just a little bit away from the fenzied First Year looking at her with wonder and concern. But he claps politely for both teams when they are making their final post-game fly-bys.

When the call is made to stand up and enter the castle again, Oliver gets to his feet with a defeated look. All that cheering! Yet it gave the youth plenty to ponder, who gives Wren a weak looking smile. First game, first loss. "Well, it was still fun, right?" The pain of sports! There was always a loser. "When you get into this team, what position are you going to go for, Wren?" He asks curiously. "Yeah, food!" He enthuses, stepping forth by the nudge. "I feel like I could have FIVE dinners right now." The lad begins to descend the steps and head for the castle proper.

Abraxas lands and joins the rest of the team, then starts to head back to the castle. He can change back into his regular clothes in the dorm. "Chased off the field by those blasted Centaurs." he murmurs quietly to Walburga, "Don't they have any decency, interrupting our celebration?"

Walburga lands and there's a brief smile towards Druella. "I thought there was a storm, but apparently you've made the entire Slytherin stands erupt with cheers. Good form, Rosier! I approve." Off she goes to follow Abraxas and the rest towards the castle.

Everyone is heading in, but it's slow-going as they all plod down from the uppermost reaches of the stands, so Druella has plenty of time to beam her appreciation at Walburga before she gets swept off with the other victorious champions, then to fall into chatty discussion of some of the finer points of quidditch theory on the way down. It's the first match she's seen, this really just means rules clarifications. "So it's fine if a quaffle or beluga hits someone?" she asks the girl next to her, curiously. "Just not if one player crashes into another?"

Riddle pats Abraxas on the shoulder and joins him and the rest of the Knights in their travel back to the dungeon. "That didn't sound like Centaurs, did it?" He looks around for anyone that is taking CoMC for confirmation.

Unlike most around her, Elspeth is nice and dry, and so she lets the others clamber out ahead of her to either cheer or commiserate with their friends. She watches Walburga for a bit, then shifts to look to the Keeper. She gives a little smile, not that he can really see it this far away, then make her way from the stands.

Lissie jerks awake, having dozed off in the warmth of her cloak. "Och. I s'pose I shouldna' have stayed up so late," she murmurs. She shakes herself, then trails along after the rest of the students, frequently pausing to look back towards the woods.

"That sort of noise? Probably more like trolls, but one dumb beast is the same as another." Abraxas says, shrugging again. "Let's get back. It was a long game, and I'm dying to get a bath, eat something, and get into some dry clothes." Not necessarily in that order.

"'Course it was fun!" Wren laughs; she might criticize, but she's still bouncing as they head through the crowd, defeated but still on the sports-high. "Chaser! Probably, anyhow. Don't fancy keeper much, really." She calls over the din of the crowd, occasionally still glancing out towards the forest. The potential for terrible things to happen is much less pressing than the need for food, though, and she practically throws herself down after the rest of the students. "At least five. Maybe more!" Fervently, Wren calls, not waiting terrible patiently to climb after the others. Food, and warmth await!

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