DOORWAYS || MARAUDERS ERA

ϟ85: QUIDDITCH VICTORIESϟ

"Welcome to the Quidditch Final of '78! The Lions face the Badgers for the second time this year, and the players are geared up for the action. Every spectator is on their feet, raising the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff flag—is that a Slytherin flag I see? Wow, patriotism at its peak, I approve. Madam Hooch's calling out some last minute rules—okay, that's it. Minnie, I can't fake my enthusiastic voice anymore."

"Miss Cadieux—"

"You promised me it'd be fun! I even read Quidditch Through The Ages for you!"

"Miss Cadieux, I was under the impression you voluntarily signed up for this—?"

"Yeah, but only because my boyfriend's commentating too."

Rhea was grumpily sitting with Remus in front of the podium, megaphones in both of their hands. McGonagall wearily sat behind them, her eyes scrutinising every move of theirs. Almost everyone had come to the pitch despite the heat, seeing as it was the final Quidditch match. Exams would be starting soon, and then...

The seventh years would graduate.

Emotions were running high, and their feelings ranged from thrill to sadness. Thrill at the prospect of facing the world, and sadness because Hogwarts had been their home for seven years.

But the ongoing match had dispelled any sort of morbid ambiances in the air.

Remus gave her a look, twirling the megaphone in his hand lazily. "Miss Cadieux, I thought we agreed on professionalism?"

"Professionalism be damned." She replied moodily, looking at the pitch in disdain.

He rolled his eyes at her and spoke into the megaphone. "The Lions need two hundred and thirty points to win the league, which means Gryffindor Seeker Dorcas Meadows needs to catch the snitch only after their team is leading by at least 80 points. But don't let that lower your guard: the Badgers have put together a very strong team, and the semi-final match against the Slytherins last month is open testimony to this."

"And the game begins, folks." Rhea mumbled. "Madam Hooch throws the Waffle—"

"Quaffle—"

"—in the air. Chaser Potter grabs it like a starving squirrel and pelts towards the hoops that are guarded by the Hufflepuff Keeper. He swivels as the big, black, iron thing almost hits him—"

"That's the bludger." Remus deadpanned.

"—he aims for right most hoop—fakes it, really, how predictable—and the Keeper is fooled by this tactic. Chaser Potter scores fifteen points for Gryffindor. What a thrill."

"TEN!"

"Ten points? All that maneuvering and only ten points? Chasers deserve better, I tell you."

"Anyway," Remus said loudly. "Chaser Roberts from Hufflepuff is in possession of the Quaffle, he passes it to Morales—Morales to Adams—Adams to Roberts—WELL DONE MARLENE!"

"Mr Lupin, favouritism off the table." McGonagall huffed, but a smile tugged at her lips. 

"Of course, Professor. Chaser McKinnon intercepts the well practised rhythm of the Hufflepuffs—not that surprising, really. Roberts cannot keep the Quaffle in his possession for longer than ten seconds. Let's hope he lasts longer in other affairs at least."

"MR LUPIN!"

"Dang, Remus." Rhea grinned, looking livelier now. "To what do we owe the pleasure of witnessing your holy sassiness?"

"Well, if he hadn't sold Fire Crab manure claiming it was actually Dragon Claws during our O.W.Ls just so that we could buy them to boost our intelligence, I wouldn't have exposed that twat. Oh wait...."