Meir Brin walked out of the Quidditch pitch, feeling slightly cheated. Now more than ever she missed the Mini-Aragogs. What was the point of watching two people look into a crystal ball and play “Spot That Death Omen” in place of a good MAPLE game? Even if there had been Lusterbuff buffers (the point being that whenever a person thought of a death omen it would be launched around the field. The Grim had been amusing; the shortened lifeline had just been weird), it was still a sad comedown from the usual Mini-Aragogs and their paintball guns. Though the outcome had been interesting, as Harry had spectacularly bested Professor Trelawney at her own game.

“She’s said that I have every one there is, so I know them all,” explained Harry as his family congratulated him.

“Meir!” called someone suddenly, and the HFA coordinator spun around, seeing Fred and George Weasley running up. They were both sporting their trademark grins that meant that someone was either (a) about to sprout horns or multicolored blotches in the near vicinity, or (b) trying to catch them as a result of having sprouted horns or multicolored blotches in the near vicinity.

“What is it?” asked Meir Brin, looking around to see if someone was retching Every-Flavor Beans and growing rabbit ears. “Who’s getting traumatized today?”

Fred appeared injured. “We don’t prank all of the time, you know.”

“Only whenever someone truly deserves it.”

“Which is—”

“—most of the time,” finished George, ceasing to even try to conceal the aura of fiendish delight about his person.

Meir Brin laughed, shaking her head. “I won’t deny that,” she said lightly. “What do you want?”

“It’s the last class of ‘Quidditch Is Not For Everyone’ today, and Wood wanted to know if you would like to observe,” said George, showing the Beater’s bat that he was carrying by his side.

Meir Brin raised an eyebrow. “There’s a Punctuation Downpour scheduled for this afternoon,” she said blankly.

George Weasley grinned. “That being the point, of course.”

Meir Brin smiled. “I’ll just go in and get my granite umbrella and be right back, then,” she said, quickening her pace back to the castle.

*********

Ally White eyed the sky overhead from the waiting area next to the broom shed. Just keep thinking: one more class and it will all be over, just one more class... she thought, shouldering the broomstick awkwardly. Their final exam for this class was an actual Quidditch game. While some of the girls had actually practiced and were excited about playing (most of them were Oliver-lusters and knew that he would be in the stands), Ally was plain nervous.

Madam Hooch walked over to the fourteen girls who would be playing the first match; Ally was one of them. Over the next four days a total of fifty matches were being played. Ally was fortunate enough to have signed up early, and would be getting it over with early as well.

“Well, fanwriters. I have a list of who will be playing what position. For the Blello team we have Skye as Keeper; Nasha Potter, KazraGirl and Grandmomma Longlegs as Chasers; Doom Song and Ally White as Beaters; and Hermione8meg as Seeker.”

Seven of the girls, hearing their fates, either moaned or grinned spectacularly. Hermione8meg appeared to be on the edge of nervous collapse, and was making small sounds of “Oliver... mine... Oliver...”

“For the Wilver team,” said Madam Hooch, ignoring the outbreak of emotion as the Blello team went to suit up and grab uniforms, “is Riona as Keeper; Lyssie St. Cloud, Terra, and Andtauriel Longwood-Baggins as Chasers; Antigra and Penelope Ross as Beaters; and Serenity Bloom as Seeker,” finished the Quidditch coach.

A few minutes later the two teams were walking out on the field carrying Cleansweep Sevens. Ally felt her stomach lurch like it was doing some sort of fast dance, perhaps the polka. Her fingers felt sweaty on the Beater’s bat, and she glanced over at Doom Song, trying to avoid looking at their Blello uniforms, which hurt her eyes.

Ally had to compliment whoever had drawn up the team list for their good mind to put Hermione8meg and Serenity Bloom on opposite teams. Both lusted after Oliver Wood, and were therefore eyeing each other like choice bits of chocolate.

“Mount your brooms,” said Madam Hooch, and Ally clambered onto the handle, thankful that the cushioning charm would help her not fall off. She rubbed her palms on the edge of her robe, trying to calm down her shaking nerves. “And... Begin!”

KazraGirl had the Quaffle first, and moved slowly toward the Wilver goal posts. As Ally watched the fanwriters flying about the pitch, she realized that, though some had actually grown into flying, their game of Quidditch could only be called a mockery of the one in the film. She pulled her bat into a defensive position, and flew off to look for Bludgers.

Slowly, KazraGirl tossed the Quaffle toward the hoops, but Riona darted over, wobbling back and forth on her broomstick. She managed to deflect the Quaffle by running into it, and it started to drop lazily back to the earth, as if it was sinking through a layer of molasses.

Andtauriel Longwood-Baggins had it then, her small house-elf body allowing her to maneuver through the air with minimal resistance. She started for the other side of the field, but at about mid-court she dropped it. Nasha Potter recovered, and started back to the Wilver goals, where Riona was waiting anxiously, looking as if she was about to throw up.

And then something hard whizzed by Ally’s shoulder. She gave up watching the game and dropped down after the Bludger, wondering what she would do if it turned on her. The Bludger, doing exactly that, started to zoom towards her face. Ally ducked, covering her face and holding the bat out in front of her.

The Bludger impacted the bat, bonking Ally in the face with her own club. It darted off, the came at her again. This time, reeling slightly, Ally raised her bat and slammed it into the heavy ball. To her surprise, it flew halfway across the field, and left her alone.

I... did it? she thought weakly, trying to stop the ringing in her ears and the pulse of adrenaline that was increasing her heart rate.

The Wilver team had taken possession of the Quaffle, and was now ganging up on Skye in an attempt to score. Ally flew over to help, but in the fray and confusion ended up being more of a hindrance than help when she accidentally smashed her Beater’s bat into Grandmomma Longlegs, who was on her own team.

“MINE!” screamed Serenity Bloom, the Wilver Seeker. She was flying upward fast, a small glittery gold something high above her head. Hermione8meg kicked after her, screaming “MINE! MINE! MINE!” as well.

“Oof!” went Serenity Bloom as Hermione8meg’s broomstick slammed into her stomach. She started coughing wildly, and Hermione8meg stopped, holding her upright as she gasped for breath.

“I’m really, really sorry,” said the Blello Seeker. “Are you all right?”

Serenity Bloom coughed a bit more, and the game’s attention went elsewhere, the Snitch having escaped.

Wilver had possession once again, and had formed an arrowhead in midair, with Antigra and Penelope Ross, the two Beaters, guarding the edges. Ally leaned over, looking for a Bludger to hit, when she nearly fell off of her broomstick. Climbing back on uneasily, she tried not to look down at the ground.

The Wilver team’s formation had worked: Skye was knocked aside and they scored, the first goal of the game. Ally looked back at Hermione8meg, hoping that she would catch the Snitch soon so that they could finish the game. The sky was getting dark, and it looked like rain was on its way.

“Hey, Ally!” called Doom Song, the other Blello Beater. “Hit that one at Riona, I’ll take that one,” she said, pointing at the Bludgers, which were currently swirling around the lower areas of the pitch.

Ally nodded, gulping. Slowly she started to descend, making for the Bludger closest to the Wilver goal post. “I’m really sorry, Riona,” she whispered, smacking the Bludger in the Wilver Keeper’s direction.

Riona didn’t see it coming until too late, when the Bludger caught her in the stomach and threw her back into the goal post. Grandmomma Longlegs took the opportunity to put the Quaffle through the hoop twice, but Penelope Ross and Terra had gone over to help their teammate. Terra glared back at Ally, who blushed and flew up higher as Riona started to come to.

“MINE!” rang the hunting call of the Seeker once again, and Serenity Bloom started to dive. She was within three meters of her target when it sped off again, leaving the shocked fanwriter to do a barrel roll on her broomstick in midair.

And then the Punctuation Downpour began. Commas and periods dropped out of the sky like small meteors, hitting the flying fanwriters like hailstones on a golf course. Ally started to shiver as the cold rain that always accompanied such showers soaked through her Blello uniform. A comma hit her in the back of the neck, and she plowed forward unintentionally.

All over the pitch the fanwriters, who had been struggling before, were at a loss. The game was abandoned as the players swerved back and forth, trying to avoid the painful rocks. Ally waved her bat over her head like a small, narrow umbrella, trying to deflect the stones.

A flash of lightning illuminated the towers of Hogwarts, and Ally saw that, despite the storm, Serenity Bloom had spotted the Snitch. Hermione8meg had seen it as well, and Ally watched in a dumb silence as the two girls sped at the glittering ball from opposite directions. A nasty-looking question mark thumped her on the head, but Ally’s attention was on the Seekers. They were almost there... gaining...

Hermione8meg and Serenity Bloom caught the Snitch simultaneously. They had their hands locked around it, pulling angrily. “MINE! MINE!” they cried. Then, with one heavy wrench, Hermione8meg had it.

A whistle was blown, and Ally found that she was grinning. Despite being bruised, beaten, and probably bloody, her team had won the game! As her feet touched the ground, and the Blello team stared at each other in a sort of dumb, happy silence, Ally was overcome with joy.

“Did we just... win?” asked KazraGirl oddly.

Nasha Potter nodded, apparently having difficulty with the concept as well.

The Wilver team walked off of the field, depressed but still smiling at the other group. “Good game,” called Antigra.

Ally nodded, wincing as a semi-colon struck her on the shoulder. Slowly a grin spread over her face. There were no words for such a feeling. Despite the rain and misplaced punctuation, Ally was the happiest that she had ever been at HFA.