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Post by Theo Bowre on Jun 23, 2011 0:45:30 GMT -5
Game day arrived in London, England with radiant sunlight, billowing cumulus clouds, and a current of electricity. To be a supporter for England National on this fine June afternoon was to be family: fans found themselves in embrace, chants filled the streets surrounding the pitch, and large banners declaring the 3 Lions champions blew uninhibited in the breeze. There was no question: this was a match that England knew they would win. Still, everyone celebrated the as-of-yet won match as one of great pride. A win was a win, even if the other team sucked. England would annihilate them. Long lines had already formed for the evening match-up with Wales. The vast majority of magic kind found themselves at entrances marked for specific, economy seating areas, whereas the VIPs and high rollers were given exclusive access to the suites and private balconies that surrounded the majestic stadium. Wales fans were outnumbered ten to one and shouting between the opposing supporters erupted amongst the die-hards. Hitwizards kept the peace but more than not, it was just talk. At 6:30pm, half an hour before match-start, spectators began to filter in through the tunnels. The stadium held 50,000, and before long, the murmur of the crowd grew to near-deafening levels. Small groups broke out in to song and on several occasions, the whole pitch would be filled with one cheer. At 6:45pm, the officials from the Department of Magical Games and Sports took their positions on the emerald field, followed soon thereafter by coaching staff, trainers and medical personnel for both teams. A SpellCaster hovering high above the pitch displayed enchanted images of players, highlights of games past and advertisements for everything from the latest Quidditch gear to specials at local pubs. An advertisement for the Hogsmeade pub, The Three Broomsticks, drew a large cheer as it announced it was the headquarters for England's most fervent supporters. At 6:50pm, the players started taking to the air. As was the tradition for home teams, England entered the stadium first. Their arrival was accompanied by a physical level of volume that sent shockwaves through the stands. The white-jerseyed players flew in carefully practiced maneuvers led by the team's captain, chaser Dashiell Fairborne, and their celebrated seeker, Reginald Pennington. Plumes of red and white smoke streamed from their brooms and they broke formation in an explosion of fireworks. Wales' entry was far less dramatic. The red-kitted team flew together in a tightly bound group, with the captain and seeker taking roles in the middle of the pack. They broke after one lap around the pitch in to their warm up drills and stretches. Close-ups of the Welsh players on the SpellCaster drew catcalls and boos from the crowd, but it was evident that despite the odds, the team was determined. It was etched all over their faces. Mere minutes before the whistle, Wales' owner and team manager joined with Welsh captain, Ben Jones, on the pitch. Their discussion was animated, with Jones looking from the England bench back to his most trusted beater, Theo Bowre. Before long, the three men called Theo over. "You're not starting tonight, Boon." Theo's heart would have sunk if it wasn't slapping him in the face like a piece of cold meat. "I don't understand." "England has sidelined Fairborne. They're toying with us. We need you to wait."
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Post by Minister Jack Harkness on Jun 25, 2011 22:18:43 GMT -5
“Dad!” The whoop of voices escalated, one word piercing the babble. Jack came from another portion of the house, his arms full (held in his elbows with an ease that spoke of years of practice) and his hands twisting and knotting the silk that lay around his neck. “Ryan!” his voice was admonishing, the weight of many years of practice (Why four?) in the tone, “Let go of George. Kendra, darling, please stop antagonizing your brothers.”
How old were they? Still twelve, ten and six, from the look of it. In actuality, they were twenty-one, nineteen and fifteen. A sudden thought occurred to the harassed father, and he looked around, the familiar feeling of slight panic welling up. Not because she could be injured, or lost, but because Anna Harkness was a devil on two feet, and when she was out of sight-- it is fair to assume chaos is forthcoming. Kendra, the eldest, let go of Ryan with a last ruffle of his hair, shaking the tenseness of the headlock out of her arms.
“She’s in the loo, Dad.” And she too, disappeared, a wide mischievous grin lighting her face. George made a face. “Eeww. She better not be putting make-up on again!” He yelled after his eldest sibling, sliding away from Ryan’s grip. Under their father’s eye, the older boy stood, offering a hand to the younger. Unlike their father, they were dressed in shorts and jerseys, proudly proclaiming their support for both Wales and their uncle. His name and number were on the back, the Welsh dragon reared proudly on the front (Ryan’s dragon was chasing the Lions, and George grinned as his roared flame)
Jack was wearing a tailored dark navy suit and a red tie. He had to keep up appearances as the Minister, but he rooted for Wales. It was home.
--
“Daaaad!”
Jack looked down at his youngest child, who was spoiling the effect of her grown-up look (Kendra had helped salvage the make-up fiasco) by hanging over the edge of the balcony and yelling at the English team. She pointed at the SpellCast. “Uncle’s not starting!”
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Post by Theo Bowre on Jun 26, 2011 23:12:13 GMT -5
Theo looked up from the Welsh bench towards Merlin's Box: a finely-decorated (and fully serviced) balcony suite that was reserved for the Minister of Magic and his special guests. He caught quick sight of his youngest niece, Annie, who was beautifully animated in her opinions on the match. Surrounding spectators could be seen smiling at the young girl, who cheered above them and made no bones about suggesting who should win the match. Annie and her siblings each wore a Wales jersey. The small army of red brought a slight smile to Theo's face; he appreciated their support. Jack, as expected, wore his suit.
Good on Jack. Always vigilant.
Theo's smile quickly faded. He tried to remain focused on the match playing out before him - without him - but he could not help but acknowledge that a small part of his heart wished he could play in front of his family. The Harkness clan almost never made it out to Theo's games, largely because of Jack's schedule and commitments. He was touched that Jack accepted his letter; crestfallen that he had been pulled off the first line. Up until the 2021 World Cup, substitutions at the professional level were prohibited; now, each team was allowed one. Whether Theo would be the driver of that coveted spot remained to be seen.
A loud "Oooooooooooo!" from the stands brought Bowre's attention back to the game. 50 to 0. Damn. To say England was dominating was to call a cauldron a pot. Their chasers had the "Quaffle Love" and managed to cut through the Welsh defences with ridiculous acrobatics. Bludgers missed the players like they were diamagnetic and their seeker benefited from not flying backwards, which was an ailment that had befallen the Welsh seeker after he was concussed by a narcoleptic bat a few months earlier.
A whistle chirped in quick succession to announce the end of the first half. Players from both teams descended to the pitch, grabbing for water, ice packs and broom wax. Laughter could be heard from the England bench.
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Post by Minister Jack Harkness on Jul 16, 2011 23:32:49 GMT -5
Jack hadn’t been able to sooth Annie’s hurt feelings for her favourite uncle, though she had many, Theo was her uninhibited favourite. Yelling herself hoarse at the English team and fans seemed to lift them, however. Jack sat back with Kendra, his most level-headed child, and watched the game. Ryan gave commentary, and George was trading hostile looks with a tubby blond boy a box over. The boy’s blubbery frame stretched the red-trimmed white jersey he was wearing. FAIRBORNE sprawled across the back.
“Hey, dad!”
Ryan’s voice brought Jack’s glance down from the sky. He followed his eldest son’s pointing finger to the spellcast. In full blown color his daughter’s face was plastered across the screen, her hands on her hips, her whole body set in true thirteen-year old indignant fashion. Fortunately, they hadn’t been able to get a mike too close yet. The diatribe that fell from her lips was mostly unheard by the majority of the crowd, though many eyes were cast upon her.
“What do you mean, I’m not allowed back here?” Annie demanded, her voice slightly shrill. She thumped her small chest. “My uncle plays for the team!!”
“Sure kid.” The bodyguard was large, unmoving and totally unmoved by the coarse language the young girl was spouting in an attempt to get past him.
"And ANYWAY," she finished with exasperation, "You've got to let him play!"
"I don't make the decisions kid." Was Thug's reply. He remained on station.
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Post by Theo Bowre on Jul 17, 2011 0:42:37 GMT -5
Theo shook hands with his teammates and offered consoling words to those who were fed up with England's tactics. They knew they were in a bad place and weren't even expected to score in the match, if you followed the pre-game dialogue of the media and public. But all the Wales-hate only made the Dragons want it more. England was playing a dirty match and Wales' focus went from scoring to not dying. No one seemed to feel this more than their seeker, Evan (Sparkie) Stark.
"I can't see the snitch, Boon."
"I know, buddy."
"I don't know that I could see it even if I wasn't flying backwards. I have to spend my entire time dodging them bludgers. They're everywhere. It's like their beaters have a hate on for me. Boomstock..."
"He's aggressive."
"He's a freaking killer, is what he is Boon. He has that maniacal glare."
Theo rubbed his hand through the seeker's hair and rose from the bench in search of Ben Jones. Jones would have to put a man on Stark, even just to give the kid some protection. He made it only a few feet before one of the chasers slapped his leg.
"Check it, B!" The chaser pointed up to the SpellCaster, where a very irate Annie Harkness appeared in 30 feet of high-definition colour. You didn't have to be an expert to read her lips and it was obvious to the Welsh bench that they had a firecracker on their side.
"That's my girl!" Theo smiled proudly, sending a secret hand gesture to his little niece, who had taught it to Theo after a family dinner. It was something they kept between them. Annie made him promise.
Annie also seemed to be occupied with a security wizard.
"She's like our unofficial mascot."
"That she is. I'm sure this is going over beautifully with Jack."
"Boon!"
Theo looked over his shoulder. He didn't need to find Jones after all. The captain was practically sprinting after him, a couple trainers in tow. Bowre put his arms up to steady the man as he closed the distance between them.
"They're starting Fairborne." The Welsh bench groaned audibly. "Warm up. We're subbing you in. Cully -"
Jones didn't even have to argue with Boon's fellow beater. He felt and looked utterly spent.
"Gladly. Good luck, Boon. Smash 'em dearly."
Theo locked eyes with Jones.
"I won't let you down."
"You never do. Good luck."
Another series of whistles broke through the air, announcing the start of the second half. Substitutions were only allowed during gameplay, so while Cully and the English chaser in Fairborne's position started the half, they were quickly made aware that they were to come off the field. Dashiell Fairborne stood at the sidelines, a board with the number 13 illuminated to announce his start. A voice broke over the SpellCaster...
"Dashiell Fairborne subbing Murdock Montgomery."
The crowd erupted in a cheer that could be felt deep in the chest. Fairborne mounted his broom and took to the sky, high-fiving the departing chaser.
Theo was next to the line, an illuminated 6 appearing on the board. Once again, a voice rang over the SpellCaster...
"Theo Bowre subbing Jake Cully.
Through the predominant boos, Theo could catch an odd cheer. None was louder than that from his niece.
"Godspeed, little brother."
"Thanks, Cull."
Theo took his position on right flank. He could see Evan Stark hover closely overhead and looked upward before the whistle to acknowledge that he would cover him. Fairborne's smile was electric. He could see why the man was so beloved. Theo only prayed the chaser's game would be off today. A single blast sounded and Theo brought his bat in to position, taking an aggressive strike at a bludger and knocking Boomstock sideways. The English beater wouldn't get another chance to terrorize his teammates.
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Post by Minister Jack Harkness on Jul 17, 2011 20:12:29 GMT -5
“But Daaad!”
“No buts. Come on.”
“They can’t keep him on the bench!”
“Honey, that’s not your decision. Come on, we can see him after the match.”
Gently, Jack managed to extricate his youngest child from the altercation with the unresponsive doorguard. His face appeared on the Spellcast as the magical camera’s focused on the Minister of Magic, parent of the Wales fan who had been on screen for the last ten and a half minutes.
“OOOOOOOAAAAAaaaaaa!” Went the crowd and the camera’s were adverted, giving Jack his needed space to melt away, daughter in tow. The cameras now focused on the game, the Spellcast showing a replay of the last thirty seconds, a brilliant strike by Bowre at a fellow beater. The crowd roared, and Annie cheered.
The rest of the Harkness crew cheered with her, including their father. Now that his errant child had been rounded up and her main complaint satisfied, they settled in to enjoy the game once more.
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Post by Theo Bowre on Jul 18, 2011 1:04:42 GMT -5
Twenty minutes in to the second half, Wales found its groove. Taking advantage of an over-confident England and a change to their line-up, the Dragons had actually brought the match to within thirty points. Neither team's seeker was having luck with the Snitch and the crowd, which had been boisterous to the point of obnoxious since the start of the match was now left in edge-of-the-seat bewilderment. Theo had done his part to help the team but had suffered the ire of England's muscle for his effort. Regardless, he kept watch over Stark.
"How you doing down there, boyo?"
"Trying, Boon." Evan Stark was the only Welsh player not facing the right direction. This was entirely on purpose for he was stuck flying backwards.
"You're doing great, buddy. Keep the - " Theo's voice faltered as he caught a small glint of gold hovering near the emerald field. He discretely cast a glance over at Pennington, the English seeker, who was busy scouring the goal stanchions for any sign of the snitch. Bowre descended towards Stark as he defended Jones from an incoming bludger. "Sparkie, I'm coming beneath you lad. I want you to follow me."
"But I'm backwards."
"I know, lad, but just stay slightly ahead of me so you can see me. I think I've spotted victory. Penny's not on to it yet." Theo looked up at Stark and gave him a reassuring wink. The split second of attention left him open to a body strike from Boomstock, who nearly knocked the Welsh beater off his broom. The crowd "Ooooooed" at the sound of the impact and Boomstock smuggly accepted the foul. Theo squinted his eyes tightly, trying to regain the air in his legs. He fumbled for a grip on his broom but managed to right himself quickly.
"You okay, Boon?"
"Golden. Let's go." With a stern shake of his head and most of his senses returned, Theo guided Stark as soon as the whistle resumed gameplay. He did his best to disguise their intentions and he gave props to Evan, who managed to keep up with him despite his rather unfortunate handicap. The Welsh chasers were making another rush on net and with the attention of the other players directed elsewhere, Theo and Stark took advantage of the chance.
"I see it."
"Good job, Sparkie. Go get the bug."
Stark accelerated quickly. Wales missed their chance on goal and within seconds, the English beaters and seeker became aware that Stark was zeroing in on the snitch. Bowre provided an aggressive defence, batting bludgers with fierce intensity and stealing the air from Stark's would-be attackers. Evan was so close. His gloved hand was reaching behind him as he peered at the snitch through his legs.
Theo caught sight of Boomstock re-entering the match from his penalty; he knew the beater had every intention of using whatever means necessary to annihilate his friend. Boomstock picked up the other two beaters and dove for Stark. Theo raced up to meet them.
"I'm almost there....AAAAAAAAAAAAAH." The snitch landed with a thud in Evan Stark's glove. Stark slammed his eyes shut, uncertain whether he could believe such a thing. He peered one eye open and upon realizing his success, thrust the golden snitch in the air. The crowd fell silent. Every player but the beaters came to a shocked standstill. Boomstock and his army was not desisting. Neither was Theo.
The official's whistle blasted three times in quick succession to acknowledge the end of the match and Wales' victory. As he did so, Boomstock closed quarters with his henchmen and collided head on with Bowre, who was propelled backwards from his broom like a shooting star. Theo heard nothing but the loud howl of wind as he fell. Moments later he bounced against the pitch. A human skipping stone. He momentarily lost consciousness.
Ben Jones raced over to the official. Boomstock was corralled by the linesmen, who knew a game foul on an illegal strike was likely.
Theo's field of vision was filled with blue sky, his ears picking up nothing but low, distant voices that sounded akin to moans and cows mooing. He heard an approaching pitter patter before several shadows blocked out the sun. One looked like Jones, another looked like Dashiell Fairborne.
"Yooooooooouuuuallllriiiighhhhtttt?"
Theo squinted.
"ArrrrrrrreeeeeYooooooooouuuuallllriiiighhhhtttt?"
Opening his eyes more fully, Theo realized he was on the field. Jones held some fingers in front of his face and he tried to swat them away. When Jones and Fairborne sat back to speak with the trainers coming across the field, Theo had a view of Merlin's Box. He could see his brother standing, looking aimlessly in to the sky and clapping, as though the match were still in progress. Theo squinted and tried to sit up. Jones put out a hand to stop him.
"Don't move a muscle, Theodore. I swear to God, boyo. I'll knock you back out."
Fairborne sent the Welsh captain a concerned stare.
"Look, that's not Boomstock. He's not a dirty player and that was entirely off the map. He wouldn't hurt Stark and no way he'd harm Boon. Something's seriously wrong, here. That wasn't my Boomer acting that way."
Jones was angry but he had to agree: Conall Boomstock was a fiesty beater but he was not the type to take out players viciously.
The men continued their conversation in a hushed whisper. Beneath them, a groggy Theo continued to watch the strange display of his brother. Thinking that perhaps Jack was intent on the SpellCast, as most of the players had already landed, Boon turned his attention to his nieces and nephews: Annie, George, Kendra Ryan. Not believing what he was seeing, Theo tried once again to push himself up. He did so under the radar of his watchful captain and after several moments was able to see a little clearer. No...he must still be in a fog. Theo squinted and then suddenly shot backwards in terror.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" Jones and Fairborne rushed back towards the fallen beater. "Slow down, mate."
"He's freaking out."
"BOON!" Jones grabbed Theo's chin and tried to bring his attention in to focus. "Look at me, Bowre! That's an order!"
But Theo's eyes were wide in fear. Jones tried to follow Theo's line of sight, spotting Merlin's box in the distance. He was perplexed by the beater's reaction: the box was completely empty. Theo saw something entirely different, however. From the height of the luxury box-suite, a now sinister looking Jack looked down upon him, a twisted smile falling second only to the dark, demonic mask that hid his eyes. The children stood in a silent, halted animation; behind them, the clockwork man known as Krellith, whom Theo had battled in Hogsmeade, pointed at his smallest niece. Annie. Theo whimpered.
"No...NOOOOOOOO!"
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Post by Minister Jack Harkness on Jul 23, 2011 0:23:42 GMT -5
“WOOOOOOOO!!!”
The collective shouts of the Harkness siblings were fit to shatter Jack’s eardrums as they cheered the capture of the snitch, and therefore the defeat of England. But Jack, although jubilant, was focused on something entirely different. He couldn’t take his eyes off the opposing team’s beaters. He foresaw a danger, a threat against his family that he could only stand by and watch. It was becoming a familiar feeling and he stood and trembled, sweat beading on his skin as his children screamed, yelling at the offending players as Theo ploughed into the pitch.
Finally, he stopped moving. Jack grabbed Annie’s hand in a tight grip and they all flew out of the box, bulling their way down the stairs. It wasn’t normal, wasn’t how he knew quidditch to be. Quidditch was a brutal sport, but ganging up and running players off the broom after game play stopped?
Jack’s heart beat rapidly and he fought back a headache as the throng pressed in around them. Finally they were on the pitch, and the path was clear, if not long. Theo had fallen on the complete opposite end of the field, near Wales’ goal posts. The family arrived, breathless, and for Jack, definitely the most out of shape of the group, red in the face. However, that didn’t stop him from drawing himself up, his face commanding but his eyes still bearing the slightest traces of panic.
“What is going on?”
“How is he?” A small voice echoed, Annie standing close by her father’s side, looking almost afraid to move closer to her uncle.
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Post by Theo Bowre on Jul 24, 2011 22:01:32 GMT -5
The arrival of Minister Harkness, his family, and their security entourage upon the pitch brought Jones and Fairborne to their feet. There was no doubt as to the reason of the Minister's attendance, but that did little to quell their nervousness. Harkness wanted answers. The behaviour of England's squad had left more than the players scratching their heads.
“What is going on?”
"We're not entirely sure, sir. We're all a little stunned." It was Jones who had replied to the Minister, wanting to give Fairborne some support in case the English captain became Jack's target. "One of the officials stated that the Department's launching an investigation. We agree that it's a wise decision and assure you that both teams will cooperate accordingly."
“How is he?
* * * * * * * * * *
"We're going to send you to Mungos."
"I'm fine. I was just winded. The whump-word is Molly Mandrake's Mother."
Wales' team mediwizard, a stout but amiable man in his late 50s, gave Theo a slight smile. The "whump-word" was a phrase that players were often asked to recite post-accident to hint at the presence or absence of a concussion. Theo had nailed it and this left the healer to consider whether the beater was being honest with his current condition. He knew Bowre to hate hospitals and past incidents had shown that he recovered more quickly when he was allowed to do so at home. The mediwizard was also keenly aware of the presence of the Harkness clan behind them and knew it was entirely likely that Boon didn't want to alarm them.
"Okay. But you're checking in with me first thing tomorrow. And if anything goes sideways before then, you get your arse to the hospital, bauy. We're not going to mess with this. You left a trench halfway down the pitch."
"Yes, sir." Theo gave a grateful nod and came up slowly on to his forearms before sitting up. The trainers assisting the mediwizard stepped back slightly to give the beater room; their parting opened Theo's field of view and for the first time, he realized that Jack and the kids were on the green. His hands and arms went numb and he quickly averted his eyes to quell the rising unease. He could not understand why he would hallucinate such a thing, but the very thought of looking in to Jack's face and seeing that mask, of seeing Krellith behind the kids. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. That Jack...
"Whoa there, son. Easy does 'er." A pair of large hands steadied Theo as he tried to rise to his feet. "Step at a time."
"Thank you so much." Theo acknowledged the small army that assisted him and used the brief pause to collect his balance. He felt adrift. Broken. Uncharacteristically fearful. A war raged inside his heart, carefully hidden behind a facade of calm, and at the root of the fire was an unfounded suspicion of Jack and the lingering danger he posed to the kids. Calcite blue eyes came upwards to meet Jack. Theo looked right through him before turning his attention to the kids. He held out his hand to Annie, smiling awkwardly.
"I saw you on the SpellCast, pumpkin. You were amazing!" He prayed she would come to him. "Georgie, Kendra, Ry. I swear to God, I'm going to bring you to all the matches. You're luckier than an Ulster shamrock." Theo slowly walked towards his family, purposefully positioning himself between Jack and the children. He knew that his energy was slightly off; keener eyes might notice it. He only prayed they attributed it to the fall.
Finally, Theo looked at Jack. He studied his brother's face, finding courage through his need to protect.
"How are you, Jack?"
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Post by Minister Jack Harkness on Aug 2, 2011 22:11:51 GMT -5
Jack judged the men before him with a quick look, an assessment of their thoughts and feelings, what actions they’d likely consider. Both were worried by his presence, and in truth, he wanted to yell, to take out his frustrations and fear on these men. Why had Theo left such a trench down the pitch? Why couldn’t Mosrael leave his family alone? He recognized her touch. Would he have nothing left?
But his family was around him and he took another deep breath to gain the last of his wind back from the run. He gently distangled Annie’s fingers from his coat and held her sticky hand in his. Ryan stood at his side, while Kendra stood back, her stance solid and her face impassive. George was trying to look resolute as he stood in his brother and father’s shadows.
"One of the officials stated that the Department's launching an investigation. We agree that it's a wise decision and assure you that both teams will cooperate accordingly."
He nodded carefully.
---
"I saw you on the SpellCast, pumpkin. You were amazing!"
She approached cautiously, then threw herself at her uncle, her arms circling his waist. Uncharacteristically, she stayed silent, only hugging him tight and trying to attach herself like a limpet to his side, under his arm.
"How are you, Jack?"
Jack looked at his daughter, how she clung to her favorite uncle, whose cause she was so quick to champion. He took several shaky breaths and let them out. “How am I? ‘Twas you who left the trench in the pitch!” His Wales lilt deepening with his relief. The Harknesses banded around, the children chattering.
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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Aug 4, 2011 2:11:05 GMT -5
[[ Sorry this is rushed, but I wanted to join this a while ago but never got to it! If it interferes with the thread's direction, let me know ]] Ralin had watched the match, it started like any other, for sure, except his two brothers were on opposing teams. It would be so much fun to compare notes with both of them afterwards. He hadn't officially joined the screaming ocean of fans, still feeling distant from normal society after the battle of Hogsmeade. He was uncertain of himself around so many people, and feared what they would see in him. But he wanted to support his family. Plus, who could resist such an awesome match that was close enough for him to attend? So, he hovered on his broom right beside the light post, half past the middle field mark on the pitch, but on the very edge of the stadium. High up, hidden from the security patrols and players by the gleam of the light. The match was swift and turned brutal fast. Ralin frowned, his fists clenching as he watched Theo take beating after beating. His mouth dropped open. He knew Boomer, the beater who was pummeling Theo. The man was rough, sure, but he played fair. This wasn't...him. A chill traced icy fingers down his spine. Something was wrong. He had to resist the urge to swoop down and somehow help Theo. The man was tough, but if his life became at risk...well prison flitted into Ralin's mind, but was shoved out again. Family and friends first, thank you. When the match ended, Ralin didn't even cheer. Didn't notice. All he saw was Dash's concerned face, Theo's fall on the pitch. He didn't realize his fingernails were drawing blood. Then things escalated. Theo started screaming, his eyes wide as he looked... Ralin followed his eyes to the Minister and the children around him. His heart was beating fast, now his hands were tight on his broomstick. "Hey! You!" A shout cut into Ralin's flurried mind. A patrolman on a broomstick was headed his way. They'd turned off the big lights at the end of the match. Ralin swooped away, and after several minutes lost the tailing lawman. His heart was torn inside of him. Ralin wanted to join them on the pitch, to be there to support Theo. But he'd only cause more trouble. And so he knew, with a heavy heart, that he would have to turn away, watch from a distance. He seemed to be doing that more and more as the curse ate at him. Ralin drew his wand and whispered a spell to it. In the palm of his hand a small, glowing bird formed. It was a small spell, one that would fly to its recipient and once it touched him, would give a momentary feeling of calm. A small spell, all that he could do. "Hang in there brother-mine," Ralin's soft Irish lilt followed the wee bird as it winged towards Theo. "Hold on..." Then, before the patrol caught up with him, the young man turned his broomstick and swept into the night. [[Exit Ralin]]
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