In the locker room before the game, Sammy dumped a duffle bag of black jerseys onto the floor in front of the team. She tossed a tin of eye black to Jarvis and tin of silver face paint to Jerry. Sammy held a jersey up. It had spikes on one shoulder. It was torn along the side and rough around the edges. It looked like a drunk seamstress had dug through a pile of garbage to make it, which was exactly what had happened.
The team looked at her uneasily. Then Sammy pressed a button on the boombox next to her and the theme from "Rocky" began to play.
"You were scared of your shadows. You were losers. Everyone hated you," Sammy said. "Now, you are the shadows. You don't care if you live or die. You want people to hate you. You… are the Hogwarts Raiders."
"What the hell," Jarvis said, opening up the tin of eye black. "We can't play any worse than we did last week."
He smeared the eye black across his face, picked up a jersey, and let out a guttural yell.
"Who's with me?" He asked, putting his hand out.
"Me," Sammy said, placing her hand on top.
"Me, too."
"Wait for me."
Soon the whole team had huddled together with their hands in the center. Sammy chanted, "Raiders, Raiders, Raiders."
The team joined in, bouncing from one foot to the other, their chants crescendoing until they all broke out in a roar and raised their fist in the air.
"Let's go, team!" Sammy yelled. The team grabbed their brooms and sprinted past her out to the field.
Only Jerry and Sammy were left in the locker room. She tossed him a pair of sunglasses.
"Looking for your jersey?" Sammy said. "I thought a lot about this. Jerry Potter is a fine name for a high school quarterback from Iowa. But you're a badass Seeker who never takes his sunglasses off."
"I am?"
"Yeah," she said, handing him a jersey. He ran his fingers across the name stitched on the back.
"Who's McCallister?"
"You are McCallister," she said. "Shades McCallister."
"Shades McCallister," he repeated, nodding. "That's pretty fucking cool."
"Right? I don't want you thinking about your dad. You are your own quidditch player. Now rip that bong, go out there, and bring me back the snitch."
The London Lugnuts had anticipated an easy win. Everything they had read about the Gryffindor team led them to believe they were about to face a disorganized band of scared children. Plus, their best player had quit the team. But from across the field, a horde of snarling, growling, rabid hooligans came sprinting out of the locker room with a blood-curdling cry. Following casually behind was a man wearing sunglasses, smoking a cigarette, and listening to a cassette player.
"Who the hell does Ray Charles think he is?" one of the Lugnuts said, laughing. But some of his teammates look unsettled.
The ref blew the whistle for the game to start, and the Raiders immediately disregarded the quaffle and set about physically assaulting the other team. Sammy laughed. Perhaps the pre-game speech went a little too well. The posh London crowd gasped in horror at these ruffians.
The ref blew the play dead and called the coaches together for a huddle.
"What in Dumbledore's name is going on here?" the ref asked.
"One of your chasers gave my seeker a purple nurple," the opposing coach said, his face turning red.
"This is how America plays quidditch, bitch," Sammy said, grabbing at her crotch.
The ref stepped in between them to stop a brawl.
"All right," he barked. "I want a clean game from now on."
A few Gryffindor players had to sit in the penalty box, but it was worth it. A tone was set. The Raiders rolled over the lugnuts like tank crushing daisies. The few times the Lugnuts got close to scoring, Jarvis "The Wall" Weasley growled and stared them down, freezing them mid-flight.
The Raiders ran a series of plays the Lugnuts had never seen before: the pick-and-roll, the flea flicker, the Statue of Liberty, and the Annexation of Puerto Rico. As the Raiders racked up points, Jerry drew nearer to the snitch, following every feint with the patience of a Zen master.
Inching closer to the snitch, he felt overcome with a strange feeling of calm. Jerry knew what had to do. He closed his eyes, held out his hand, palm face up, and hurtled through the sky blind.
The Lugnuts Seeker wondered what the hell was going on. Was this some strange magic he had never seen before? Jerry felt a slight weight on his palm. He opened his eyes and saw the snitch resting peacefully in his hand.
"I've never seen anything like this in my decades of quidditch," the announcer said. "A ragtag school club, led by a sunglass-wearing snitch-whisperer, has come to the heart of London to beat a team of professionals. Gryffindor wins, and Shades McCallister is your MVP!"
The once staid crowd was now going crazy for Gryffindor, chanting "Raiders! Raiders! Raiders!"