A/N: Ks I needa say, that I don't come up with the names for the teams arrite? They're all mentioned by Rowling at some point. Some of the character's names are too; I'm just expanding on their personalities.
Dedicated to Kate, who's left for Madagascar! WE'LL MISS HER SO MUCH!
The Australians were insanely proud of their Quidditch, it was ridiculous.
The country was a late starter into the Quidditch world; it was only introduced in the 18th century, whereas in Britain it started in the 12th, although not as we know it today.
Australia's climate and territory would make anyone think it was odd to play sport in. The middle of the outback, scorching temperatures, dusty winds, hardly any vegetation, and no water. But these were exactly the reasons why it was so great.
It was perfect for the Wizarding world; it was far away from muggles, who wouldn't venture out in the harsh climate. Spells made everything a whole lot easier for the wizards at those out-back stadiums. Thirsty? Conjure a drink!
Also, the weather made for tough players. The Australians fought back; they might start out nice and friendly at the beginning of the game, but if you bump them, they'll bump you right back!
The two most well known teams for Australia were also known world-wide as one of the most violent rivalries. Thundelarra Thunderers v. Wollongong Warriors.
There were players carried off on stretchers almost every game and the players kept changing because of long term injuries. It was rumored that there were another ten players in the reserve team, because it was so unpredictable.
Often in the World Cup, the Australian team were wild and performed flamboyant and spectacular moves. But this was different. This was an age old rivalry between the top two inter-Australia League, The Thundelarra Thunderers and the Wollongong Warriors. It was rough and to the point. People would respond to a crazy claim by saying - "Yeah right, and I'll go ref the next Warriors v. Thunderers game!"
They weren't as violent as Transylvania or as showy as Canada, but there were many fouls as well as frequent oohs and ahhs from the crowd. Jim Frazier, chaser for the Thunderers, was fouled the most, followed by their beater Georgia Williamson. Mitchell Taylor, chaser for the Warriors, had been given a warning for flying low over the crowd, singing his team anthem.
The day's weather conditions were almost perfect. It was sunny, but there was a refreshing cool breeze floating through the huge stadium. It was built partly into the ground, so that it would be cooler; it was made of the sandy red orange rock of the Australian outback. There were giant sheets above, hiding the sun to keep the pitch shady. Because of the red walls and red floor, the uniforms and banners and things stood out. Yellow for Thunderers, green for Warrior's.
At first it seemed like it would only be a quick match. In the first two minutes, the Warriors had to replace there Keeper after he was knocked out against one of the hoops. Then the Thunderers beater Gee fell off her broom after a bludger to the face…and got up again. The snitch was sighted in the first fifteen minutes, but it was lost when there was a collision – Thunderers keeper and the ref. Danny Cane had to be replaced.
It was go go go, violent, and quick.
The Warriors were ahead by thirty, but they were all pretty much evenly matched. All players were becoming more and more desperate as they kept scoring one each, as if they were taking turns, but particularly the Thunderers were picking up more fouls that usual. The crowd loved it. For most of them, the rough players were the reason they were there.
The Warriors were rewarded another free when Georgia, called Gee, was fouled for straight out whacking their beater on the head with her bat, no disguises, and no denials. After that, and a lecture from her coach, Gee decided that they should at least try to do it by the book for a while. She signaled her partner Deborah Edwards, known as Dee to her team mates.
The beaters Dee and Gee were known, mostly in the southern hemisphere, as a couple of the soon to be best beaters the world has seen. It was rumored that the official Australian team were planning to recruit them as soon as Aly retired. Gee was the eldest in her team, had been playing professionally the longest, and yet she seemed to be the one who always had the most fun.
Gee's signal was for a Dopplebeater Defense move. Gee rolled her broom, spinning length ways four times before coming to a practiced and precise stop, right in front of the bludger which had paused for not even a second, raising her bat even as she spun. Cackling, she slammed it with her bat, taking a rough guess of its direction.
Dee re-adjusted her sweaty grip on her bat, and perched, tense, ready to hit, as a bludger came straight at her. She swung, and before her bat had even made contact with the ball her eyes were moving to the Chaser she was aiming at.
Both bludgers flew towards the unsuspecting chaser, who was too confident to even look behind themselves to check for danger – this was obviously a new addition to their team. Dee flew faster than hers, overtaking it, and hovered above the chaser, watching its path, in case it went astray.
The two balls hit their target exactly, one on each side, on the unprotected and unpadded area under the arms. With a yell, the chaser dropped the quaffle to clutch their sides, and Elibazeth Jordan, Thunderers chaser, came straight up from near the ground to catch it.
She huddled over it so that it would be harder to extract, and continued upwards, intending to drop it to her fellow chaser who was supposed to be directly below her in a Porskoff Ploy. But when she looked down, her eyes widened, and she muttered to herself in panic.
"Ok ok, rule one for chasers, never loose sight of your team members, they are you're safety line. Oh god I've-"
Ellie was bashed into by a rival chaser, her mistake being to flinch when he made as if to punch her in the face. But his fist didn't connect with her cheek; the chaser pulled it up short, and took the opportunity to wrench the quaffle from her grasp. The Transylvanian Tackle.
"Frick!" She swore, and she turned right, knowing that he would go around her left and come up behind her, he was known for it. She continued straight, she was flying slightly above and to the left of him, when she halted her broom abruptly. She turned, and faced the chaser who was flying at her too fast to slow down. Growling, she lunged at him, her feet flicking forward to shoot her broom forward as she leapt off it entirely.
Missing him, she landed safely back on her broom - she'd jumped over him as it had flown under. But the chaser was grinning and he laughed as he flew away.
Wayne Taylor, Ellie's fellow chaser, sped past her, and she heard him mutter, "Cocky bastard." He didn't say it in anger, Wayne was as cool as a cucumber - He said it like it was fact.
Wayne sped after his brother. Seeing who was behind him, Mitchell snorted and slowed down suddenly. But Wayne saw it coming and came up beside him.
"Wayne, Wayne, go away, come again when you can play and WIIIN! – which will be NEVER!!!" Mitchell sang, swerving as the Thunderers third chaser, Frazier, came up on his other side. If he didn't move he would be sandwiched, so he tried going up or down, while searching for someone to pass to, but they kept the pace perfectly.
The volume of the crowds cheers went up a notch as the seekers suddenly sighted the snitch. Wayne took advantage of Mitchell's distraction - he was checking to see if his own seeker was doing ok - and elbowed him in the kidney, taking the quaffle back. He tossed it to Jim, who jumped up and kicked the ball on to Ellie.
Ellie held the quaffle under her arm, and then she leaned back, until her broom was vertical, then lifted her broom to the side, he feet coming off, and as she fell, hit the quaffle with the end of her broom as if it was a bludger and she was the beater. She slid back on her broom and curved away before she hit the dirt ground. The cheers were deafening.
The skill level of both of the seekers in comparison was embarrassingly obvious. Thunderers seeker, Martin Byrne, was almost immediately way out ahead of the Warrior's. He looked so relaxed, many many people were jealous of his apparent effortless ease with flying. Marty acted as if he already had the snitch, you could tell from the look on his face that he thought he was in charge here, the Warrior's seeker would catch it if he wanted him too, the game would continue until he said. Because once the snitch was caught, that was it. As a seeker he had to be able to choose the right moment.
Marty was lounging across his broom, flying at a terrifying speed, but not even seeming to notice, and Wayne scowled at him as he passed, and Marty smirked. That old man was just jealous.
Even though there was only a few years difference between the two men, their personalities were so different – Marty's cocky and daring, Wayne's serious and tactual, it really was as if Wayne was telling his grandson Marty off.
Ellie signaled him, and he straddled his broom properly. Snitch catching time was a go. He leaned forward and peered through his goggles. He usually only needed them in the rain or snow, but there was a dustiness in the air, that wouldn't help his chances. He could still catch the snitch in any conditions of course.
His vision zeroed in on the tiny golden orb, and he forgot about the other players and the other seeker desperately trying to keep up with him. He was gaining, slowly, so slowly. Then the snitch turned, and circled the goal rings, making Marty loose distance so he could turn properly. He cursed himself for not looking ahead so he could be prepared, every little error could add up. Being a seeker required absolute precision.
The snitch went high, then swooped down low, and Marty took his chance. He put all his weight into gaining as it flew down, then, as the angle evened out, he held tightly onto the handle, and lifted one foot on. Then the other, so that he was crouching on his broom, like it was a skateboard. The Snitch was at head height for him.
He reached out…he could hear the other seeker behind him cursing already…reached out a little further….he could feel his broom veering of course slightly….reached….. Marty plucked it from the air, a smug look spreading across his face as the crowd went ballistic.
A whistle sounded, the game was over, and the Thunderers did a celebratory circuit around the stadium, Marty executing extravagant bows to his screaming fans. Yellow banners were being waved like mad.
This wasn't the end of the inter-Australia league, but the Thunderrala Thunderers were one more step closer to their goal. And they had beaten the Warriors. Again. That was a victory itself.
Yellow coloured fireworks were going off, even though it was the middle of the day, as they all landed on the ground, to shake hands with the Chairman of the Australian Quidditch Society (AUSQS), and receive their trophy.
A/N: oh my gawdyness everybody scream – these are the first fics ive done that aren't parodies! WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?