Disclaimer: This story is based in the Harry Potter universe but has no association with the characters, events, and story arcs of the official canon written by J.K. Rowling. This story is merely set in the universe Rowling has created. Any spells, products, etc of said universe that are used in this story are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers/affiliations. Any actual products mentioned in this story, as well as any lyrics or poem segments, are copyrighted to their respective owners. I will give credit to any passages that I have not written in the Author Note at the end of each chapter.
Chapter One: A Muggle Takes Flight
He paused between two large oaks, letting one foot down off a pedal to support his large mountain bike. From his pocket, he slipped out his mp3 player and unwrapped the ear buds from around it. With his other hand, he tucked the buds into his ears. After flicking the device on, he cycled through some folders and found the song he was looking for. The buds crackled from the extreme volume, but it didn't really affect him. With a smile, he pushed his foot off of the ground and began pedaling.
When the blast wave hit, the impact burned the paint from the walls right onto their skin, inadvertently mixing hues of green and blue that would never be seen again.
The blaring heavy metal song made his heart race faster as his bike began to descend a steep hill. He deftly dodged rocks and shrubs in time to the double-bass backbeat in the song.
Human ash fell like snow as winter began around the world.
He jumped a boulder with ease, smile widening. The bike was moving extremely fast, he knew he had to be going at least sixty miles an hour.
The survivors crawled out of whatever holes they had found.
Turning the bike sideways, he began to slide, wheels almost horizontal. This didn't last long. A handlebar caught into the ground and launched him forward. He began to roll down the rest of the hill. Instinctively, he tucked himself into a ball, elbows locked inwards towards his chest and knees cocked against his shoulders, so he wouldn't break his jaw. Finally, he stopped at the end of the downgrade, where the ground of the hill met with the flat grassy patch near his campsite. Caked with dirt and sporting a couple of scratches on each arm, he got up and began brushing himself off. The bike finally landed next to him with a soft thud, the front wheel still spinning. He threw off his helmet and laughed up into the sky.
And this is when the real horror begins. This is when they begin to think. Suddenly, everything else bows in comparison.
"Good one, Austin," said a young man near him.
"Great stuff, dude," said an older man behind the other.
"Thanks," Austin said with a bow, jumping off his bike and picking it up. "Camp set up yet, Al?"
"Waiting for your glittery ass to show up. Damn show off, you deserved that." said the young man.
"I know," Austin replied, laughing and brushing some dirt from his light brown medium-crop of hair. "Couldn't balance the front end on such a steep grade. Handlebar found a dip on the terrain and" he shook his head, "I face-planted. My own damn fault."
"One day," said the older man, "you're going to break your neck or back and you'll be rolling around in a wheel chair."
"Bob, you prick. I'd rather be a cripple that led a life than a bored old man hanging out with some stupid kids."
Bob, the older man, laughed heartily. "You better watch it. I can kick your ass, Corey."
"After he's had a nap and adjusted his walker maybe," Al said. All three of them began to laugh.
"Alright you two, it's getting dark. Time for the fire and some of my famous Brunswick stew," said Bob, rubbing his hands together. "Ok, Austin, you're on firewood duty. Since I trust Al with a knife more than you, he gets to help me set up the stew."
"Yay," said Al unenthusiastically.
Austin laughed. "At least you don't have to rip twigs from trees."
"True," Al responded, laughing as well.
Bob shook his head and began removing utensils from a sack near one of the tents.
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Bridget Osmond sat in the corner office of the stadium's fourth-level press box wringing her brown bangs in anticipation. This was not her first time organizing a Quodpot match. As a matter of fact, during college the matches had been quite easy to organize. Since most of the magical colleges had hidden campuses, the need to keep Muggles from stumbling on the attached Quodpot pitches was moot. Now that Bridget was organizing professional level matches, which meant that stadiums had to be well protected and hidden in remote locations, she was finding herself stretched thin.
First, she had to make sure the Department of Magic approved of the site two months in advance. Then she had to ok it with the two teams' managers who were going to be playing. Next, she had to get everything with the ticketing and advertising firms in line. She had to make doubly sure no advertisements went up in Muggle frequented areas. After that, she then had to get the stadium assembled on time, confirm that all the facilities were stocked, and contact all the concessionaires that were signed up and ask them to pay their lot fees.
The two teams matched up in the first NQL (or, National Quodpot League) playoff round were the Birmingham Barons and the Salem Satyrs. The Barons were a strong, southern team full of brute force and not much else. They were known for their viscous playing style and injury-filled matches. The Satyrs were much more nimble, relying on speed and diminutive size to land the Quod in the caldron before the opposing team knew what hit them. Bridget had rather been looking forward to the match up until she started organizing it.
Even with all of her major work out of the way, she was finding problems left and right. They had already had numerous Muggle hikers find the stadium before the repelling charms were put in place. The Department of Magic had to modify so many Muggle memories, Agents had been placed in strategic locations throughout the surrounding area ready to dispel any would-be non-magical intruders. The DoM had set up headquarters across the hall from her office and Bridget despised bumping into the black-robed men of the DoM. They were bossy, arrogant, and always wore dark sunglasses that hid their eyes. Bridget was never sure what they were thinking. All a part of their imposing image, I suppose, she thought.
The problem facing her now though was one of great importance. The DoM had recalled their perimeter agents and had only stationed a few on hand during the match to help boost inner-stadium security. Bridget knew this was a bad idea. Sure, the repelling charms were in place, but she knew that any form of overconfidence elicited chaos. She had a bad feeling about the surrounding area going unguarded during the match and she had made her opinion known to the agents. Their leader, a stubborn and older man, one of the type of men who believed women shouldn't have such important jobs as Quodpot coordination, outright refused to acknowledge her. She had all but given up trying.
There was only one thing to do and that was to wait and see. She hoped nothing bad would happen, but of this she was not assured in the least bit. She sighed, straightened her bangs, and left the office. The gates would be opening in thirty minutes and she didn't want to miss the stampede.
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The three men sat around the fire on their haunches, legs splayed as they finished up the last of Bob's stew.
"Man," Austin said, scraping his bowl clean with his spoon. "I forgot how good this stuff is."
"Thanks," Bob commented, putting his own empty bowl down. "That was clear when you went back for fourths, Austin."
Al laughed. "Yeah, better be thankful you like dangerous hobbies Austin. Otherwise you'd be four hundred pounds by the way you eat."
Austin smirked. "Yeah, yeah. I wouldn't have to eat this way if it weren't' for my dangerous hobbies. Never know when I'll bite it."
"Right," Bob said, shaking his head. "A kid with a death wish. Sad."
"I'm twenty-four, man! I'm not a kid..."
"Well you had me fooled." Bob retorted
"Ok, so maybe I am!" Austin said, chuckling. "I'm one at heart in the least."
"True," Al said before finishing off the last of his food. "We both are. Austin's just braver than I am. I swear I don't know how you take so many risks without getting hurt beyond repair, dude. Remember that tumble you took up in Colorado while snowboarding? I thought you were dead, but aside from a few scratches you were spic and span."
"Yeah, weird," Austin said, not really wanting to think back on the accident. He'd been so scared he was going to die at the time, he had just curled up and let his life pass before his eyes.
"Right," Bob said, remembering it all too well with a more than pained expression crossing his face. "Austin fell nearly six hundred feet. I was ready for the worst but he just got up and nursed his skinned knees and elbows. Lucky kid." And with that, Bob held up his soda can in toast.
Al mirrored the gesture. "To Austin, the luckiest sonofabitch this side of the Mississippi."
Al and Bob both laughed, but Austin, whose mind was still on that harrowing encounter, got up. "I'm going to take a walk guys. I'll be back."
"Alright," Bob said, knowing full well why Austin needed the walk. "Just be back before ten. I've got ghost stories to tell."
Austin laughed softly. "No problem."
And with that, he set off towards the north, becoming enveloped in the darkness and peace of the forest.
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Bridget was surprised by the hand on her shoulder. She had been watching the flood of people filling the stadium one seat at a time from her vantage point on the second level.
"Ms. Osmond," said a deep voice.
She turned around and was staring into the face of the head Agent. "Yes," she replied somewhat feebly.
"The teams are using new robes that come with advanced padding charms. This, according to one of the coaches, is solely for the purpose of making the matches more violent with less injury. I thought you should know. The Department has approved this method. I didn't want you alarmed when the checks made in the game were rougher."
"Uh...thanks. I'll keep that in mind," she managed, smiling. He nodded and turned around on his heel, stiffly walking away. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the gathering crowd.
Most of the ticket holders had made it in. Not many of the sixty-thousand seats were empty. Those that were would either fill up from scalped tickets (nothing she had any control over). Both teams had monumental support and it seemed like each respective city had sent its most rabid fans to this remote location. Granted, with designated portkey areas, the travel hadn't been too hard on the spectators. It was just their sheer volume that made it such a difficult task. Many of these wizards and warlocks had to mix magic with every day Muggle-like lives.
Bridget knew how easy the British had it. With so much open fields and remote villages, magic users could have whole towns to themselves. In America, however, space was far more limited and many of the magic users in the country had to blend in with the Muggles and hold day jobs. This made it increasingly difficult for people like Bridget to organize portkey travel that didn't make such a huge hit on a city's workforce.
It certainly was not possible to televise or in any magical way broadcast the matches. Modern times were accepting of a lot, but the revelation that magic like that in Muggle story books really did exist would throw the country, possibly the world, into chaos.
Bridget had grown up in a magical environment. She had never really known anything about Muggles until she began attending Portsmouth Magical College, an offshoot of the Muggle university with a similar name. There she learned about electricity, combustible engines, and the like. Her family itself could be traced all the way back to Puritan times, during the magical "dark ages" where witches were persecuted beyond imagination. While most of the witches who had been burned at the stake survived thanks to some timely protective magic, the more sinister methods, hanging and crushing (by way of large boulders) were more than successful.
Her family had survived by 'renouncing' witchcraft and then moving into seclusion. And there she was, the youngest of her four siblings (all boys) organizing professional Quodpot matches.
After a few more moments watching the crowd, she turned left and headed for the stairs that led to the fourth level. She'd watch the match from the comfort of her office. Despite her job, she wasn't much of one for lots of noise.
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Austin walked through the forest, not really noticing where he was going, but just enjoying the silence of it all. There were no impediments to thought in a dark, moonlit forest. His mind could wander all it wanted without as much as a car horn to knock him back to reality.
He stopped at a clearing where the moon was shining its brightest and leaned against a tree, staring up into the sky. The starts shone brightly despite the size of the moon, and Austin found himself looking for constellations. One couldn't see them in the large cities, and Austin had always lived in large cities. He looked for and found the big and little dippers, and then tried to find Orion.
As he thought he eyed the belt portion, he was startled by a muffled noise. It sounded almost like someone far away had turned on a very large TV that was broadcasting a football game. He heard cheering, chanting, and music. It was very muffled but still quite audible.
Austin blinked and dug into his ears with his fingers, wriggling them up and down quickly. When he removed his fingers, he still heard the sound. Turning his head, he was able to pick out its direction and began walking towards it.
The sound continued to get louder as he walked on until he reached the edge of a grouping of trees and was blinded by a brilliant yellow light.
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"Introducing Birmingham's Barons!" yelled the commentator's voice. Even through Bridget's thick office windows, the sound absolutely enveloped the room.
"These behemoths are looking to pound their way to the Championship in search of the Platinum Peasegood trophy. This is the third year running that the Barons have made it to the playoffs and they're out for blood! Here's their starting lineup!"
Bridget didn't stick around for the lineup. She quickly cast a silencing charm on the set of windows and the booming voice was immediately cut out. With a sigh, she opened up her desk and withdrew her supper: a sandwich, chips, and a glass of grape juice.
The Barons had the least amount of superstar players, but instead made up for it with absolutely crushing force. Bridget knew that the Satyr's intro was going to be even longer. There'd be at least another thirty minutes before the match started. They had tons of advertisers waiting to play to the crowds. Every major broom company was on board, as well as some of the American butterbeer brewers.
Bridget took a bite of her sandwich and walked to the windows, watching the two star Satyr players putting on a show of speedy and risky flying. She knew the crowd was cheering, even if the windows had been silenced. Not a single wizard or witch was sitting from what she could see.
The two flyers got back into line with their nine other teammates and Bridget assumed the match was starting. After she set the sandwich on the window seal she felt like being lazy and summoned her glass from the table into her hand. Sipping on it, she leaned against the window and released the silencing charm.
"Here we go, folks!"
Three members of each team lined up in the center of the pitch. The black-robed referee blew her whistle and a large red ball dropped from seemingly nowhere. The match had begun.
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Austin blinked up at the large structure just sitting out in the middle of the forested field. It was immense, brightly lit, and looking completely out of place. He was certain that it was a stadium of sorts. From it loud cheering and commentating could be heard. Austin then spotted the large iron gates at the front of the structure, where stood two large men in what looked like black graduation gowns.
As he eased closer, he noticed another, smaller man standing between them. His gown was yellow and white. It had lettering that reminded Austin of the type seen on any staff clothing at any sporting event. Confused, but not scared, Austin approached the large gates.
The large black-clad men with dark sunglasses turned their heads and watched him as he approached. Even though he couldn't see their eyes, he made out their eyebrows arching in confusion as he stopped in front of the white and yellow clad man.
"Er...hi," he said, raising a hand in greeting to the smaller man.
"'Lo," the man said, eyeing Austin suspiciously. "How may I help...you?"
"I was wondering," Austin said, voice raising to match the volume of the crowd noises, "what's going on."
"Ah, yeah," the man said curtly, an eyebrow still raised as he eyed Austin's appearance. "It's a ProQuod match 'tween the Barons and Satyrs. Playoffs, first round."
"Ah," said Austin, trying to hide his bafflement. "Is...it okay if I go in?"
"You'd have to buy a ticket...but the seats are sold out. If you can brave it, we're letting some people view from lawn of the pitch. You'd have to sign a waiver first."
"How...much?" Austin asked, still utterly bewildered. "I've only got a bit of change right now."
"Four galleons. Rather cheap for one's life, right?"
"...ok." Austin said, the word Galleons totally throwing him off. He began to wander if he was in some sort of cult's area where they used fake money. After a few moments, he came to a decision and pulled out his wallet. "What's that in greenbacks?"
"Excuse me?" said the man. "You want to trade Muggle money for it? I don't know if we can handle that sort of transaction here. That's usually something a bank would do, you know that surely?"
"O...of course," Austin replied. "I just...didn't expect to happen upon a ProQuod match out here."
The man, beginning to really eye Austin, said, "You aren't with Muggles, are ya?"
"No...not...at the m..moment," Austin replied. He didn't even know what a "Muggle" was.
"Then why are you dressed like that. Where are your robes?"
"Uhmm...I..uh...at home. Can't...er...go hiking without having to...dress like this..." replied Austin, voice as wavering as ever. He hadn't a clue what the hell was going on and what he was even saying. Why had he even tried to get in? They'll figure out he's not part of the cult and he'll wind up a headline in a newspaper.
"I reckon so," said the staffer. "Don't know why the hell a perfectly good wizard would want to trek through the forest. We have brooms and apparation for a reason, ya know. All you damn modern wizards trying to 'get in tune with Muggles' even though they'd string you up on a rope in a minute."
"Uh, sir?" Austin asked timidly.
"Right. Damnit. Just go in. Don't reckon anyone's going to ask you for a ticket on the lawn anyway. Be careful. If you get killed, it's my ass in the frying pan!"
And with that, the man opened one of the tall gates and pushed Austin through, looking to one of the black robed men and saying "Damn kids." They only nodded in response.
--------------
Bridget knew something was wrong when she caught the gates closing out of the corner of her eye. Granted, there were people arriving late, but from her vantage point, she could clearly see this person was not dressed in robes. This person was not even dressed any either the Satyr or Baron colors. She got out her pair of Omnioculars and focused on the person. She immediately saw that this was no wizard.
He was dressed in a dusty tank top and jean shorts. He was of medium build and had a handsome but dirty face that was adorned with messy medium-cropped hair. A small amount of stubble, amplified by the dust on his face, was visible. His limbs were mostly exposed, so she could tell that this man was strong but lithe. She couldn't tell how tall he was from her vantage.
This man was a Muggle. And this Muggle was not being repelled. As a matter of fact, he was looking up at the action in the pitch almost hungrily, like he wanted to be a part of it.
"This is bad," she said aloud. She put down her Omnioculars and darted out of the office.
--------------
Austin marveled at what he saw. Large men flying around on broomsticks were...it seemed at least at first, fighting over a large red ball. The game itself looked to Austin to be a mix of football, basketball, and soccer. The teams were easy to spot. Their robes were flashy and color coded. One team had purple and yellow robes with lightning bolts on the sides and shoulders. The other team was a deep navy blue accented with a lighter green. The logo of that team was a fist with what looked to be a feather in it.
He watched as a large burly man in the purple and yellow robes wrenched the red ball from an opposite team member. With a shoulder lowered, the man plowed through what looked to be a wedge defense formation the other team had setup. The violence of the maneuver struck Austin as both scary and entertaining. None of the knocked away members looked injured. They just looked pissed.
"Stubb with the Quod, after that stunning Bull Charge, looks to be heading for the Satyr's caldron. This could be the first score of the match, folks!"
Austin was taken aback by the volume and depth of the commentary. No microphone or PA system that he knew of could produce such a booming sound, "in your ear" sound. It was like he was wearing headphones set at a ridiculous volume.
The burly man managed to toss the red ball one handed into the caldron suspended in mid air near the end of the "field." A bell sounded and a loud whistle blew.
"That's a Baron score, ladies and gentlemen! Time for a new Quod! Let's see if the Satyrs can somehow manage to stop the Barons from getting another in!"
The crowd roared in both cheers and boos. Austin shook his head as he watched, mesmerized by it all. It was...impossible. It had to be. He had to be dreaming. No sport like this could possibly exist. These guys were strong and nimble all at once. They had to be. They were flying around like demons on those broomsticks.
God, Austin thought. What am I thinking? It's like I'm in some really twisted and modernized fairy tale. Broom sticks, caldrons? So I'm guessing all these people are wizards and witches?
"Well now then," said a husky southern-tinged voice from beside him. Austin turned his head and saw a man whose face was half purple and half yellow. "I'm tellin' ya, the lawn is the best place to watch a match."
"Right," Austin said. "You're rooting for them," he said to the man, point up towards the defensive end of the purple and yellow team.
"That's right. Barons all the way! How about you, who you rooting for?"
"Uh," Austin said, thinking for a moment.
"Well?"
"The red ball actually," Austin said. It was true. The ball was more or less something to cheer for, seeing as he had no idea whatsoever as to what was going on in the game.
"Ah, you're one of them guys that like to see the Quod explode then."
"Yeah I gue...wait, what?"
The man laughed. "You guys crack me up. You come to matches just to watch the timer on the ball run out, and then," the man made a loud booming noise with his mouth, "the Quod explodes and a team member is out of the game. Mind you, there's nothing wrong with it, but rooting for someone to get thrown out of the game is a bit unsportsmanlike."
"Yeah, well..." Austin began, mind racing at the thought that the red ball was actually a ticking time bomb. No wonder the forward position players didn't want to hold on to it too long.
"To each his own, they say. Think this year's championship will be worth watching? The only way I'm going is if the Barons make it. Otherwise, I'll just be reading the paper. NQL matches are expensive to attend."
"Yeah, four galleons..." Austin said, absentmindedly. He was honestly more interested in the game than talking with the man beside him.
The man laughed heartily. "Maybe in the sixties, but now even lawn tickets are in the tens of galleons."
Austin blinked away from the game. "Wait, that guy at the gate offered me a seat out here for four galleons."
"Then you must've begged, then."
"Not really, I just...offered him some greenbacks in exchange..." Austin said, watching the man's face closely for any sign of suspicion.
The man's face seemed to contort halfway between a smile and a confused scowl. Finally, after a few moments of thought, he started laughing. "Damn kids know how to get in cheaper than a fanatic! I don't know how you do it, figure stuff out like that. Future's looking bright, if you guys are this damn clever." The man continued to laugh and shake his head. "Muggle money...gah, what a hoot."
"Yeah..." Austin said, turning back to the game with a weak smile.
"You broom ride much," the man asked after a few minutes of watching the match.
"Nah, bikes mostly."
"Bikes...? Those Muggle vehicles?"
"Yeah," Austin said, watching as a speedy forward on the blue and green team made his way across the field.
"Whatever for?"
"The challenge," replied Austin as the forward scored a point by tossing the ball into the caldron.
"Ah. Well, I came in on my Nimbus 2000. All the way from 'Bama. S'long fly I know, but it was nice change of pace. With all these people using portkeys and such, I don't think they get the time to really enjoy the world. All speed and nothing else, like them damn Satyrs." Austin noticed the man point at the forward that had just scored a goal.
"Speed isn't always a bad thing," Austin said.
"True. I tell ya, that Nimbus gets mighty speedy in a good wind. I don't take it full speed...got to stay careful ya know."
Austin turned around and eyed the man. "Your broom...where did you get it?"
"A broom shop, of course. Out near Helena, great outlet store there."
"Was it expensive?"
"Oh yeah," the man said. "Nimbus 2000 is top notch. It's no Firebolt but it beats the hell outta the Cleansweep line."
"Right," Austin said. "Where'd you...put it?"
"Oh, it's over there," the man pointed behind him, where a dark mahogany broom was leaning against a tent. "I camp on the lawns at the games."
"Ah," Austin said. "I've never ridden a..." broom "Nimbus before. Do you think I could test drive it?"
"Of course!" the man said. "Once you get a taste of it, you'll be begging me to take you back to Helena so you can get one yourself."
"There he is!" came a female voice from behind the two men. A woman in scarlet robes was descending a nearby staircase. Austin noticed two of those black robed men behind her with what looked like twigs in their hands.
Austin immediately knew he was in danger. He looked around frantically for a method of escape, but the two black robed men at the gates were now standing on the lawn side, also drawing twigs from their robes.
Quickly, something clicked in Austin's mind. It was his only avenue left. The broom. With that, Austin made a leaping dive for the man's broom and then turned on his heels.
"Someone stun him before he gets away with that broom!" he heard a deeper voice say. It had been the farthest black robed man. From the side of him, he heard someone yell, "Stupefy!" A jet of red light passed in front of Austin's face. He felt the wind and heat off of it as it went by.
"Shit!" he yelled, ducking instinctively. "Don't freaking shoot me!"
He heard another cry of "Stupefy!" and he ducked again. Starting in a run, he hopped up and put the broom between his two legs.
"Hey! My Nimbus!" he heard the Baron's fan yell from behind him.
The first thing that shocked Austin was the fact that he didn't feel like he was mounted on the broom. As a matter of fact, it felt as if his rear was an inch or two above the broom, perched on a soft but invisible cloud or cushion. With two hands near the top of the hand, Austin leaned forward and the broom responded. It shot off at high speed.
The rush Austin was beginning to feel was like nothing he'd ever felt before. He was flying on a broom at top speed. He felt the wind rushing over him, heard it whistling as he leaned back. The broom rose almost at once, but was still going forward. Austin was nearing the closest caldron now, and he saw that the teams in the match were oblivious at this point.
Austin looked back down at the lawn from over his shoulder. Some of the black robed men were fumbling around and shouting. One already had a broom and was beginning to mount it. He saw Austin looking at him and yelled something. "Shit!" Austin yelled and shot even further up, watching another jet of red light pass under him and hit the caldron he had just been behind. The pot tipped forward and over, spilling a green liquid onto the lawn below it. Steam rose up from the ground as the liquid settled.
By this time, not only had the teams in the match noticed, but the crowd was noticing too. The spectators had grown eerily silent and the teams had completely stopped mid-play. Austin saw many pairs of eyes looking his way. But he was more concerned about the black robed men speeding towards him on their own brooms.
"Goodness folks," came the bellowing commentator's voice. "It looks like we have someone on the pitch being chased by some Department of Magic agents. The action on the pitch has come to a stand still. Let's cheer our DoM agents on as they track down this lowly interrupter!"
Austin smirked, a little bit of his moxie coming back to him after the comments made by the voice. Just let them try to catch me now, he thought. He shot forward into the field with the teams, passing many of the smaller blue and green clad players before any of the players notice. The crowd "ahhed" loudly as Austin cleanly dodged a clothesline from one of the burly purple and yellow colored players and spun around on the spot.
Three more of the Baron players were charging at him. He heard the commentator pipe back up. "Looks like this intruder can fly, ladies and gentlemen. The players are starting to come after him and...there, look! Four Department of Magic agents have flown onto the field. They've got their wands out! I think they're going to try to stun him!"
Austin flew right into the attacking players and then leaned forward, pushing his body weight onto the top of the handle. The broom dove quickly, but the bristles were bumped by one of the players' brooms and Austin was knocked off balance. He fought with the broom, trying to find a center of gravity to fall back on.
Unfortunately, he couldn't find one and found himself careening right to a spot in the stands. A small brown headed young woman stood up at him in disbelief as he rocketed towards her. NO! Austin thought. Come on broom, turn!
It was too late, he couldn't turn in time. Instead, he changed positions, gripping the broom handle between his ankles. He let his body hang from the bottom of the broom, arms outstretch. His hands made contact with the woman's shoulders. He grabbed her and then used her as a balancing point, driving the broom downward with his still airborne legs. The broom dove into the wooden floorboard and stuck there, looking like a javelin that had just been spiked in the earth. Austin landed on his back at the woman's feet. Grunting, he got back up and looked at her.
"Sorry," he said to her. "You ok?"
"Y..yeah," the woman replied, looking visibly shaking.
"I'm Austin, nice to meet you," he said with a grin. "Again, sorry."
With that he pulled the broom from the hole in the floorboard and remounted it. He heard the young woman meekly say, "I'm Artemis" as he sped back off.
He shot straight up to the sky, hoping to escape the stadium. When he bounced off an invisible barrier and started nose-diving towards the ground, he realized that escaping the stadium on a broom may be harder than he originally thought.
With all the excitement with the woman in the stands, Austin had completely forgotten that the agents were chasing him. He had also not even heard a moment of the reshaped commentary. As he dove to the ground, trying to think of something to do, he heard the voice boom out "Folks, after that incredible, never before seen maneuver in the stands, the intruder has tried to escape the stadium and met with our barrier! Wait, I've just been informed...this is not a wizard ladies and gentlemen!"
Austin heard the moan of the crowd as he decided to lean right and head towards the fourth level, where the press box was.
"Yes, folks, this guy is a Muggle! And this Muggle is headed right for my booth! This is Rick Randy signing off!"
"Impedimenta!" Austin heard from behind him and suddenly, hearing was one of the few things he could do. His arms and legs were stiff, as was the rest of his body. Immobile like this, the broom was left speeding towards a large clear window with Austin still attached.
"Yeah, this is going to hurt," Austin would have said if his jaw could have moved.
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A note from the author: The song lyrics in the first segment belong to The Acacia Strain and come from their song "Angry Mob Justice."
All Quodpot information was gathered from Quidditch Through the Ages, and (which has a lovely archived article on Quodpot). I've made assumptions and taken liberties here and there. If I've made mistakes with spells or anything else of the canon, please feel free to make me aware of them. You may contact me at my yahoo email address: tlozwarlock at yahoo dot com