Entry for "Muggle Studies" at "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)"
Task: Write about a quidditch team. Min 500 words
"Okay, are you ready?!," Aidan Lynch, the Captain of the Irish National Team, exclaimed as he entered the changing room, located under the stands of the World Cup Final Stadium. Tension was filling the air, alongside with the loud stamping sounds from above their heads.
"How can you be so cheerful?," Georgia Moran, one of the chasers, whispered, nervously pacing in front of the wooden bench on which she had placed her Firebolt. "I feel like a pig on its way to slaughter. The Bulgarians will rip us apart."
"I am always looking forward to your positive remarks, Georgia," Aidan mumbled, rolling his eyes in a annoyed fashion. There were players who were nervous in the minutes before a important match, and there was Georgia, who acted as if the world was going to end. After the match, when they would sit in McMullen's Pub in Dublin, they would make fun of this habit again, regardless how this World Cup Final would end. But for now, it was once again pulling down the moral of the whole team.
"I am being relatively realistic, oh Captain my Captain! They have Krum and they are not known for playing very gentle. See you in the hospital!"
Jack Connolly, one of the Beaters, laughed darkly between two bites from his chocolate frog, grinning:"This is Quidditch, Georgia. It is violent, if you have not noticed that. Maybe you should change to rythmic gymnastics, that odd sport muggle women do."
Georgia gulped for air in offense, but swallowed down her anger – it would be more useful on the pitch in a few minutes.
"I feel like I am going to throw up...," Jillian Mullet murmured, her face white as snow, her fingers cramped around her broom as if her life depended from holding on to it.
"Well, I see we are all in our most possibly perfect shape for a World Cup Final," Aidan said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. "I am sure we will perform well, there is nothing to worry abo..."
A awful sound left Jillians mouth as she leaned over and vomitted on the ground, her fellow Chaser Matthew Troy reacting fast enough to hold back her braid. He patted the womans back while she retched.
"Well, Aidan... I bet no one here wants to swap places with you right now... You are the Captain of the Irish National team of wrecks, mate," Barry Ryan, the Keeper, joked, while Matthew cleaned up the mess Jillian had made with a short swish of his wand. The woman was strengthlessly hanging in Matthews arms, her face shining with sweat.
"I should have become a tailor when I had the chance...," Aidan mumbled, feeling like his dream of holding the Quidditch World Cup in his hands was slowly fading away. "Go professional, they said... Galleons, honour and girls..."
A knock on the door signalled them that there were only a few minutes remaining before they would have to enter the stadium and play.
"Okay... guys, listen...," Aidan sighed, trying to summon all of his positive feelings. "I know you all feel like... crap or whatever... But please, would you, and if only for a short moment, forget about your negative feelings? Look where we are now! What we have achieved! We, ladies and gentlemen, are at the finals! Do you really want to give up now, as we have already come so far? Why don't we just go out there, give our best, and show them why we deserve to be here? I don't care if we will hold the Cup when this game is over, all I want is for you to give your best!"
"You are so annoying, Aidan," Georgia sighed, before she stepped forward, stretching her arm in front of her. "For the team."
Slowly, everybody was following her example, and then the seven players, Jillian still supported by Matthew, stood in a circle, hands joint in its middle.
"The one of you who scores the least goals will pay the beer tonight, only to make it clear!"