Aim I.
In the decades following the disastrous Triwizard Tournament when Voldemort had kidnapped both(!) Hogwarts champions, the British wizarding school has opted for a different kind of competition, held annually due to near-unanimous popularity among the students. The professors were initially unenthusiastic, but eventually acquiesced because many of their students actually stayed more alert during class.
Here are the rules:
1) If you wish to participate, you must feed a slip of paper with your name into the helmet of the suit of armor standing to the right of the doors leading into the Great Hall by September 30th.
2) Starting on October 1st, you will be assigned a target, and someone else will be assigned to target you. This assignment will happen via a slip of paper with your target's name appearing in your pocket. Targets will be selected by a magical algorithm that minimizes the age differences between all pairs of participants.
3) Your goal is to hit your target (and avoid being hit) with the spell "Cochleari". If the spell makes contact and the target is holding a spoon in their hand without any kind of attachment (magical or otherwise), then they are safe and will glow purple for three seconds. If this is not the case, then they will glow orange for three seconds and are out of the game. This spell cannot be blocked, but dissipates (and is thus ineffective) beyond three meters.
4) If you hit your target, then you are automatically assigned their target as your next target.
5) You may not attack your target while they are in class or outside the castle.
6) You are incentivized to move about the castle by the fact that if you do not make your hit in 48 hours, then you are out and your target is assigned to someone else as soon as there's another successful hit.
7) Curfew will still be in place.
8) You may not wrest your target's spoon from them by any means.
9) No one else may hit your target on your behalf.
10) When there are only two participants left, the champion will be the one with the most hits. In the rare case of a tie, the pair will formally duel in front of the school with non-lethal spells only.
Let the chaos fun begin!
Author's note: I did not come up with the game Spoon Assassin - we played a non-magical version of this in my college dorm.
Aim II.
"And it's Arcuri with the Quaffle! Look at him go!" The commentator's voice boomed as Atticus streaked away, performing a tight barrel roll to avoid a bludger he caught in his peripheral vision. Priya had nearly gotten into shouting distance with Puddlemere's Keeper by the time two of their Chasers blocked her, so her deft pass backwards to him set him up perfectly for a strike on the hoops. He feinted left, but the Keeper didn't go for it. Good thing he actually had planned to shoot to the left, even as his body swung to the right, the Keeper's torso mirroring his.
"Jacobs isn't falling for his trick—ARCURI SCORES! A smooth double bluff brings the Magpies neck and neck with Puddlemere!"
...
This is the story the public knows:
Atticus Arcuri was born to Iris and Carlo Arcuri, proud members of the Mediterranean-British wizarding community. From a young age, Atticus was a talented athlete. His father, who had played as a beater for House Ravenclaw his fourth through seventh years at Hogwarts, got him started with backyard Quidditch. As soon as he was old enough to start attending summer camps (seven years old), he wowed the coaches with his flying and Quaffle-handling, and this earned him spots in progressively more competitive and prestigious programs. His parents were so dedicated to their son's athletic potential that they decided to homeschool him and have him train with a private coach when camps weren't in session. Homeschooling was quite unusual in wizarding Britain, but apparently more common in wizarding Greece, where Iris had grown up. In any case, the Arcuris' decision paid off. When Atticus turned seventeen, professional teams were clamoring to recruit him, and he ended up signing with the Montrose Magpies, top of the league. Now, at twenty-three, he is the team's star Chaser.
This is the story that the Arcuris have kept from everyone except their son's private coach, sworn to secrecy:
Excited by four-year-old Atticus' boundless energy and enthusiasm for looking through Quidditch magazines, Carlo went out and bought a toy broomstick that allowed parents to adjust the maximum flying height. He set it to two-thirds of a meter, and guided Atticus, who was practically vibrating in anticipation, outside. He also carried his racing broom from Hogwarts days, so he could show Atticus how flying was done. He lay both brooms down between them and demonstrated how saying "up" would bring his broom into his hand. Atticus attempted this on his toy broom, but nothing happened. Carlo encouraged him to try again, and he did, several times, with the same result. Wondering whether the store clerk had sold him a dud, he reached over to test it. But his "up" brought the toy to hand easily. Odd. Maybe Atticus' magic hasn't developed enough yet?
Out of the corner of his eye, Carlo saw Atticus mimicking him, reaching a little hand over to try the racing broom. Surprisingly, the toddler's command caused the broom to flop on the ground. Encouraged, Atticus tried again more forcefully, and the broom rose to his hands. Atticus' eyes widened in thrilled awe.
"Nice job! Now try on this one again," Carlo instructed. With unusual care, the boy set down the racing broom and hopped over to where Carlo had put the toy back on the ground.
"Up!" There was no response.
Stymied, Carlo eventually settled on taking Atticus for a ride on his broom, the wiggly child tethered by a conjured seat belt to Carlo's front. The mystery of the toy broom faded from both their minds as they soared into the sky.
...
Over the next few months, Carlo used his free hours to research broom magic. What he eventually found made a little too much sense. All brooms were imbued with magic. However, most brooms required some passive magic from their riders to be activated. Within the last thirty years or so, advances in magical imbuing had enabled broommakers to infuse so much magic into brooms that no additional magical activation was required - only the will of the rider. However, this imbuing process was sufficiently difficult that it was only routinely done for racing brooms, where the extra power could be put to real use. Carlo couldn't find any mention of Muggles riding on racing brooms, but that was likely because they didn't have access. For instance, most Muggleborns probably never felt comfortable enough on brooms to buy a racing broom, much less give one of their family members a go on one. And of the witches and wizards who had racing brooms and close non-magical family or friends, many probably never thought to test it.
While Carlo's observations constituted an interesting breakthrough, his initial emotion was sadness. The logical conclusion was that Atticus was a squib. When he finally shared his concerns with Iris, she nodded slowly.
"I had begun to suspect. All of my siblings and I had displayed accidental magic by his age. We will wait and see as he grows older, but it is likely that you are right." She reached over and took her husband's hand, and they shared a moment of silence.
"He keeps asking me when we can go riding again. He loved it so much." Carlo ran his other hand through his hair, staring off into space.
"I know. He gets more excited jabbering about flying and Quidditch than anything else." Iris exhaled slowly. "We'll have to be careful. Many other parents can bet on their children bouncing off the ground or automatically re-mending themselves with accidental magic, but we cannot. We'll always have to be watching him."
"What are you talking about?" Carlo frowned.
"Return the toy broom, and use the money to get a long-term sizing charm put on your broom - you know, one of those that grows with kids as they get bigger. Your discovery means that flying is a gift we can give our son, let him experience magic even if it isn't his own." Her eyes twinkled at the dawning grin on Carlo's face.
...
Maybe it was because Iris and Carlo had been forced to recognize how special it was to get to share magic with their son. Or maybe it was because Atticus' sheer joy when flying was contagious. In any case, the Arcuri parents began to spend every hour they could playing outside with their boy. Carlo used Iris' slower broom to show Atticus flying technique and tricks, and as he got older, taught him some team strategy. Iris, always the stronger spellcaster of the couple, conjured exciting obstacle courses up in the air and differently-sized goals for him to toss a Quaffle into. Carlo tried to get him to practice with a beater's bat, but Atticus always enjoyed scoring more.
They were initially hesitant to send him to a summer camp, given all that could go wrong. But eventually with Atticus' incessant begging to be able to play with other kids, they agreed. Socialization was important, and camp was a good opportunity to get to play while supervised by adults with first aid training (they confirmed this with the camp ahead of time). They also learned that it was fine for him to bring his own broom, as it was standard for the junior Quidditch camps to put speed limit spells on everyone's brooms to level the playing field.
When Atticus turned eleven and did not receive a letter from Hogwarts, Carlo and Iris knew it was time for a family talk. At first, the boy was confused when they gently told him that he was not a wizard. He had been around magic his whole life, and excelled at Quidditch. They assured him that he would be able to keep playing Quidditch, if he wanted to; he just wouldn't be able to cast magic like they did. They tried to make it sound like there was nothing wrong, that he was a normal kid, but they worried that the boy would read between the lines: many others would treat him like a second-class citizen. Atticus was unusually quiet, then abruptly asked if he could go outside and fly. The fact that he hadn't gotten upset relieved his parents, but they still anxiously waited for him to come back inside, only half paying attention to household chores.
After several hours of flying, a shower, and some lunch, Atticus told his parents that he was okay with not being a wizard. He went on to say that he wanted to be a professional Quidditch player, so it wouldn't matter if he couldn't do magic. His parents had imagined this possibility, and told him that they would do everything they could to help him follow his dream. Carlo scaled back to part-time work so he could lead Atticus' homeschooling. Iris went back to work full-time so they could afford to hire a private Quidditch coach, someone who could give him tailored instruction and watch him whenever he trained (in case of a medical emergency). After much deliberation, they decided to tell the coach, a rugged ex-Chaser from the Ballycastle Bats named Winifred Baker. Winnie was a halfblood, and after interviewing her several times and seeing how little she cared about anything other than Quidditch / training good players, the Arcuris made the leap.
...
Atticus has now largely achieved his dream. He is playing professional Quidditch at the top of the British league, adored by fans and well-liked by pretty much everyone due to his lack of arrogance. He hasn't yet become captain, but that may well be coming down the pipes… Maybe he could even get invited to play for the World Cup team!
But recently, a small voice in the back of his mind has been questioning whether he won't truly feel like he's won until everyone knows and accepts him as not being able to cast magic. Is it time to give up his omitted truth? Would it stop him from rising even higher, or prevent him from getting good coaching/commentator positions once he has to retire from the team? He weighs how he would feel if his teammates or fans turned their noses up at him with how he would have felt as a pre-teen if he'd had a squib role model - which he could be for others. When Atticus spends too much time thinking about this, he starts panicking a bit inside. He and his family have worked so hard for him to get here… Should he - or even could he - risk it all?
Aim III.
Magical Patent Office, London
Number: WO-2032-GB-45891
Classification: Charms, Arithmancy
Invention: Three-Dimensional Cinematic Projection with Photogrammetry (3D-CPP)
Inventor: Charissa Creevey
Filed: January 9, 2032
Description summary: charm- (as opposed to laser-) based holographic projection that can be viewed from any angle. Sound also charmed to emanate from corresponding parts of the projection in time with the visuals. Three-dimensional information derived from two-dimensional source material (captured by standard mage camera with microphone) using novel arithmantic techniques.
...
Daily Prophet
May 16, 2057
Sorceress Studios' Annual Film Festival!
This July 8-12, at Quidditch pitches all over the country, the best of magical cinema will be on display. Full schedule is now available (page 3). Reserve your stadium seating, airspace, or grassy picnic area today - this year's festival is one you don't want to miss!
Key notices:
- Festival finale at Magpie Moor will feature the Philosopher's Philharmonia accompanying the classic action-drama Adventures of the Three Brothers, with the beloved score by Ed Levin!
- Watch out for tickets to the exclusive magical engineering lecture by the venerated Charissa Creevey, with Q&A to follow. Come learn about the improved image and sound projection in 3D-CPP 2.5! July 9th, Hogwarts Field at 4pm.
- Parents, be sure to check the maturity rating on each film before letting your child attend. The festival has no age restrictions and no liability.