George, at this point, felt...well, drunk. Mostly he felt drunk. But he also felt partially responsible for the escalating animosity that was totally harshing the buzz of excitement and mischief that had been building since the small but enthusiastic group of intoxicated rule-breakers had escaped from the Great Hall. After all, the punch had been practically harmless before he and Fred had contributed to it.
"Alright, alright," he burst in, shoving himself into the dangerously shrinking space between Harry and Draco, "break it up, ladies, let's have it out on the field instead, yeah?" He didn't waste any time attempting to magic his way through the doors (experience had taught him that Madame Hooch kept those things double- and triple- and quadruple-charmed shut), opting instead to reach deep into the magically enlarged abyss of his left trouser pocket until he found what he was looking for - a small thimble-shaped object which glowed an unnerving shade of red that emitted a dangerous-sounding humming sound.
"You might want to think about stepping back," he advised, pulling his wand out of his jacket and gingerly aiming it at the tiny device. "And maybe covering your ears." A quick flick of his wand, a quickly muttered spell, and George hastily shoved the now-brightly throbbing thimble into the rusty-looking keyhole of the pitch's heavy doors, hurriedly backing away himself...just in time to avoid the shower of sparks that shot away from the door, accompanied by a mildly deafening explosion and a puff of swirling purple smoke.
"It's like nothing has changed." Angelina mused, sauntering he way towards the purple smoke. It was bloody cold and her dress was a poor wardrobe decision but the pitch was her home and like hell was she going to watch others have a go.
"You're all back at Hogwarts no more than a few hours and already you're blowing things up."
Harry was already moving his way toward the closet, his hand reaching out for the first broom he saw - an old Firebolt - just like the one he used when he was in school. Of course, the Firebolt had seen many incarnations since then and there were more expensive and better brooms used but the Firebolt was familiar to him. He knew how to use it. He started to hand out equipment, keeping the Snitch locked up for the moment.
"Alright, all, how do we want to do this?" he asked, keeping in mind that it was mostly former Gryffindors and one lone, very drunk Malfoy. "Looks like we might have enough for even teams-"
"Alright, alright," he burst in, shoving himself into the dangerously shrinking space between Harry and Draco, "break it up, ladies, let's have it out on the field instead, yeah?" He didn't waste any time attempting to magic his way through the doors (experience had taught him that Madame Hooch kept those things double- and triple- and quadruple-charmed shut), opting instead to reach deep into the magically enlarged abyss of his left trouser pocket until he found what he was looking for - a small thimble-shaped object which glowed an unnerving shade of red that emitted a dangerous-sounding humming sound.
"You might want to think about stepping back," he advised, pulling his wand out of his jacket and gingerly aiming it at the tiny device. "And maybe covering your ears." A quick flick of his wand, a quickly muttered spell, and George hastily shoved the now-brightly throbbing thimble into the rusty-looking keyhole of the pitch's heavy doors, hurriedly backing away himself...just in time to avoid the shower of sparks that shot away from the door, accompanied by a mildly deafening explosion and a puff of swirling purple smoke.
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"You're all back at Hogwarts no more than a few hours and already you're blowing things up."
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"Worked like a charm, naturally," Fred said as we wandered into the pitch.
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Harry was already moving his way toward the closet, his hand reaching out for the first broom he saw - an old Firebolt - just like the one he used when he was in school. Of course, the Firebolt had seen many incarnations since then and there were more expensive and better brooms used but the Firebolt was familiar to him. He knew how to use it. He started to hand out equipment, keeping the Snitch locked up for the moment.
"Alright, all, how do we want to do this?" he asked, keeping in mind that it was mostly former Gryffindors and one lone, very drunk Malfoy. "Looks like we might have enough for even teams-"
Reply
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