VVVRRRRWWOOOOSH! Fiona Larker, a 21-year-old, black-haired proffesional Quidditch player swooped down on her Firebolt to catch the practie Quaffle and caught it in one hand with a Back Flip Grapple. The move was a sweep that involved tilting the broom up hard and grabbing the Quaffle or Snitch and getting in the same line of flying , like a backflip. She beamed in triumph before she realised she was three centimetres off the ground. Fiona collided hard with the mud and shouted in pain. All the other players turned and sped down to the howling body on the floor.
"Are you all right?" said a man, about 20 years of age, dark red hair and a protective feeling about him.
"Yeah, I think so. I-- There's the Madrid Masters! What are they doing
here, Pete?" Fiona asked, looking up at the boy"I don't know, maybe this is one of the areas of this year's Quidditch
Cup." said Pete, sounding confused. Six women and one man were walking up
to them. they were all wearing red robes with yellow strpes and bearing the
Spanish coat of arms over their heart area on the robes. The man was
running up and then started to speak in Spanish.
"Hola, los Wrens de Weymouth, veo que usted es, uh, entrenamiento para el
torneo."
"Yeah well, where are your brooms?" Pete angrily replied."What did he
say, Pete?" Fiona whispered as she tugged on his midnight blue
robes."Exactly? Well, it goes: Hello, Weymouth Wrens, I see you are,
uh,
training for the tournament." Pete said quietly.
"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE CREEPS!" Fiona jumped to her feet, feeling
surprisingly weak her legs, but angry in her heart. She drew her wand and
shouted, "FLIPPENDO!" A disc of blue light hit the man square in the
chest, causing all the women to draw their wands and point them at Fiona's
stomach.
"It wasn't that bad an insult, Fi!" Pete shouted.
"Yeah, in your point of view! STUPEFY!" She fired a thicker bolt of red at three of
the women who had prodded their wand further into her. They froze instantly,
and the other three shouted "Expelliarmus!" and "Flippendo!" and, even one,
almost said "Crucio!", but then flipped her tongue and turned it into
"Stupefy!" somehow. All the spells hit her hard and as one, and she flew
and slammed into one of the gates of the empty, open grassy park, her wand flying into Pete.. She
didn't move. At all. There were four petrified women staring strangely
forever, and an unconcious man sprawled across the floor. Pete aimed Fiona's
wand at her and said "Restano." She drifted from a half-dead bloody figure to a sleeping girl, resting peacefully.
"Today adventure's have been a bit much, I don't think we can practise much
more, Fi." Pete said as the Healer came along. Fiona was so badly injured
that she had to be in St. Mungo's."But we've got to!" Fi said loudly. Her shout apparently took a lot of
breath, as she had blacked out.
"Oh, well, there's always tomorrow." Pete said to himself.
"Well, not tomorrow," whispered a healer. He seemed a bit worried.
"She'll be in for another four days, at least. You should... get the
rest of the team and take a holiday from Quidditch." He walked off to
treat Gilderoy Lockhart, whose shouts of "Yay! No school!" could be
heard from a floor down.