"Alleluia!" Vulchanov exulted yet again. "Christ is risen!"
"Christ is risen indeed," grinned Volkov. "Alleluia!"
"All right, then," he smiled. "Let's do this." They turned to face each other, a few steps apart. "On three?"
"Sounds good."
"You are going to have egg on your face," Zograf muttered. "Literally and figuratively."
"Shut up," Vulchanov grinned. "One...two...three!"
Ksssh!
"The point," Zograf rolled his eyes, "is to tap the eggs, not crush them together with all your weight behind them like some ridiculous Dopplebeater Defence."
"Excuse me? Do I look like I have egg on my face?"
The Beaters stepped backwards, both triumphantly grasping their red eggs.
"But...you...how..."
"Dunno," Volkov teased, "couldn't have anything to do with the fact that we're wizards, now, could it?"
Zograf rolled his eyes.
"A rematch?" Vulchanov offered.
"It's only fair. Right, I'll count it off. One, two, three..."
Ksssssh!
Their eggs were sweaty in their palms, but still very much intact.
"Third time ought to do it, I reckon."
By that time, a crowd had formed around them; though the rest of the congregation was just as magical as the Quidditch players, they had let their eggs break in turn. "Come on," Volkov had reasoned with them, "we're the ones who need the luck."
"One...two...three..."
That time, as soon as the eggshells met, a wave of magic sprung the two Beaters apart from each other, pushing them each backward about a foot. "This won't do at all!" Vulchanov joked.
"Do you think we should try the gentle tap?"
"Oh, I suppose," he rolled his eyes. "One, two, three..."
Nothing really could have happened, so lightly did they tip their eggs against each other.
"Back to the original plan, I reckon," shrugged Volkov.
"We could always mix it up, tap with different people?"
"I don't think so. Viktor and Ivanna over there have already broken theirs..." Volkov nodded. "I think he let her win."
"There's a point in that, he doesn't need luck. Right, let's go. One, two, three...hey, no fair pointing your wand!"
Volkov replaced the wand in question with an unapologetic smirk. The charm had removed the dye from Vulchanov's egg entirely, leaving his alone the bright red shade.
Rolling his eyes, Vulchanov undid the charm. "How do I know you're not charming it?" Volkov whined.
"Should've thought of that before you messed with mine."
"Bah. Okay. Whatever. One, two, three..."
Ksssssssh!
Volkov peered down at Vulchanov's egg. "That's totally a crack."
"Is not!"
"Is too."
"I just missed a spot when I was restoring the color that somebody Vanished."
"Uh-huh."
"I worked hard on that dye!"
"Your national team, everybody," Ivanna deadpanned.
"Shut up, okay?" Volkov grinned. "This one'll do it. One...two...three..."
"Lunch time," said Zograf.
"We're kind of in the middle of something here?"
"Easter lunch time?"
They hesitated.
"It's Dimitrov's wife's Muggle recipe."
The Beaters exchanged sideways glances, then took their places at the table.
"Two unbroken eggs?" said Krum. "Wow. Think of how much luck that is."
"Seriously," said Dimitrov. "At this rate we really could make the final."
