AN: Everybody has ideas for how to fix Quidditch, right? This is my example of how you might have a fun British boarding school game centered around broomstick flying. I also included a little snippet of Harry doing his thing. Unfortunately I don't really have anywhere else to deploy this little bit of world-building, so it goes in the snippets file.

ooOoo

"Quagby: A broomstick sport popular among British wizards. Six players, one of whom is designated the keeper, make up a side. The object of the game is to propel the quag, traditionally an enchanted cannonball, through the scoring hoop protected by the opposition. The keeper is the only player who is allowed to handle the quag. The other players are only allowed to interact with it and with each other through spell casting. Different leagues have established different restrictions as to what spells may be used although most modern competitive matches use the forbidden spell list provided by the International Quagby Association." - Quagby Through the Ages

"Quagby, n.: A game where twelve blokes fly around the pitch on broomsticks for a couple hours and then Germany win." - The Hitchhiker's Guide to Wizarding Britain.

ooOoo

Summer in Scotland was often unpleasantly warm. Winter was always unpleasantly cold. And the Scots, well, they were just generally unpleasant. But every now and then a perfect spring day would make all of the unpleasantness seem worthwhile.

Harry Potter was enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face, nicely offset by the brisk spring breeze. Gazing up into the sky, he could see a single bird circling in the air. It was a dark spot against one of the few clouds in the sky, then a white spot in a field of blue. He squinted to try and get a better look at it, not that he would be able to identify it even with a pair of omnioculars.

A sharp whistle drew his attention back to earth. Well, most of the way. Ron Weasley was floating next to him in midair, a good fifty feet above the ground, and across the pitch Harry saw a glint of a familiar head of blonde hair on the figure perched in front of the Slytherin hoop. Trust Draco Malfoy to let his ego get in the way of his team's best interest at a moment like this.

"Harry, do you think..." Ron said, then trailed off, nerves visibly getting the better of him.

Harry couldn't entirely blame him. It was odd, how an entire season could come down to a single game and an entire game could come down to a single moment. Here they were, tied 4-4 in a shootout with Harry yet to take his turn. If he missed it would go to sudden death, and Ron would be called upon once more. Considering that his only "save" had occurred when Crabbe left him for dead and then bounced his shot off the edge of the hoop, Ron was obviously less than eager to face any further action.

Harry guided his broomstick closer, then pointed down in the stands.

"Did you see Celestina Warbeck in the crowd down there?"

Ron looked at Harry as if he were crazy. "Harry, what-"

Harry cut him off by clapping a hand over his shoulder and giving a reassuring squeeze before he turned and made his way to midfield. As soon as he drew within range Madam Hooch tossed the quag up in the air and Harry snagged it with the Learner's Lasso, the first spell that had been drilled into him after Oliver Wood pressed him onto the team in his first year.

The lasso was a short range spell that effectively tethered the quag to his wand for as long as he kept it in effect. It could be used to shift the quag around, or to sling it to teammates or towards the goal. For now it bobbed along behind him as he took a lazy series of s-turns that gradually brought him closer to the Slytherin side of the field.

Draco Malfoy was not Slytherin's best keeper. Honestly, he wasn't really their best at anything, but ever since he had bought his way onto the team back in his second year he had tried to match Harry's scoring totals as a striker. He'd done all right against Hufflepuff and when Ravenclaw had had a down year, but he'd never had much success against Gryffindor, as the championship banners hanging in the Great Hall could attest. But apparently nobody on their team had the gall to stand up to Malfoy when he insisted on turning this match into a personal showdown with the boy-who-lived.

Harry could have lived without the other boy's obsession with him, but he had come to enjoy his semi-annual crushing of Draco's hopes and dreams. Honestly, Malfoy had had the right idea back in first year. Unfortunately for him, now that he was out on the pitch there was no way to sneak away from this particular duel. Harry was calm as he pressed his attack.

Draco's nerves got the best of him and he launched a stunner well before Harry was in any kind of practical range. Harry easily slid around the spell, ending the maneuver with his broom pointed straight at the Slytherin goal. Draco panicked and snapped off another stunner, which Harry avoided with a quick right turn-left turn combination that let the spell pass him by without changing his course.

The next spell was on him almost immediately, and Harry again turned right. This time the follow up curse was practically waiting for him, forcing Harry into a wild roll in order to stay clear of it without breaking his momentum. He came back in line with Draco just in time to see him finish casting a wide area cutting charm. A little violent for a schoolyard game, but Draco had never been shy about throwing sharp elbows.

Harry brought his wand upwards, giving the quag a bit of upward momentum. Keeping his wand moving he let the lasso drop and cast a shield spell. His shield rang like a bell as the cutter washed over it, but held. Harry let it go and prepared to bring the quag back under control before it could fall out of his range, only to find that it had actually continued its upward and forward trajectory.

A glance forward explained things. Draco had gone for a summoning charm. It would be quite the coup to pick Harry Potter's pocket to snuff out his penalty shot, but Draco's wandwork wasn't quick enough. Right now the quag was still close enough that Harry could easily recapture it with the lasso, but he had other ideas. Bringing his wand forward he snapped out a banishing charm.

The next second seemed to stretch on for an hour. Harry could see the first inkling of panic on Malfoy's face, hear the sudden intake of breath from the crowd, the incoherent noise of Lee Jordan screeching into the microphone as his emotions overcame what little professionalism he possessed.

Then the quag took off as though it had been shot out of a cannon. Harry had actually aimed it slightly outside of the scoring hoop, allowing Draco's summoning spell to pull it back on target. The iron ball actually nicked Malfoy's robes as it went by, but hardly slowed.

Harry had already turned away before the gong rang to signal that a goal had been scored. The roar from the crowd would be deafening for those in the stands, but Harry was flying high enough that it might have been waves on a beach. Somewhere down below his teammates would be scrambling into the air. They'd be mobbing him soon enough, but for now Harry was alone. He tilted his head back to look at the sky.

The bird had been joined by a score of its kind, all lazily circling in an updraft, flying for the fun of it.

It really was a beautiful day.

ooOoo