May the Power Protect …the Quaffle?

Disclaimer: I wish I owned them but I don't; I'm just borrowing them for the duration of the story.

Chapter Four: The Makings of a Match

Fleur Isabelle deLacour Weasley had her husband Bill's hand in a deathgrip, her Veela ancestry unconsciously spreading attractant and becalming pheromones around her in an attempt to dispel the imperceptible looming hostility. Unfortunately, the first victim HAD to be Chip.

Leelee noticed the cause first; her vampiric side rearing its head at the assault on her senses. Turning in Fleur's direction, she found Maddie uncannily echoing her as she said, "What are you doing to him?"

"What? What du yu mean?" the pale Frenchwoman asked. Chuckling, Bill leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"I think they mean your Veela aura, love. Looks like you're driving the boys mad here, too." The rest of the Weasley brothers laughed, and Fleur hung her head with blushing cheeks.

"But of course, my dear Will'am." She gave him two kisses to each cheek, and smiled at the rest of the room after a long relaxing breath. "Zair. Better, no?" Maddie, after a careful sniff, nodded in relief. Leelee grinned.

"Veela, huh? I've heard of them, but I never met someone who could boast of one for an ancestor. My boyfriend's a troblin, though, so nothing surprises me." The Hogwarts crowd all gave her a strange look (Ron the longest, until Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, and he glanced away with a mumbled "Sorry.")

"Whoa, are theah any more loike you at home?" Zander asked Fleur, waggling his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. Vida slapped him on the back of the head, and everybody else laughed. And just like that, the Boy who Triumphed and the other Heroes of Hogwarts became friends with the Mystic Force Rangers.

Quidditch

"Ye're serious," Zander interrupted. "You want us to go up against the undefeated Quidditch champions of Hogwarts? Without ANY real playing experience? We'll come off worse than that first fight with Koragg! No offense …" he muttered in an aside to Leanbow, who just chuckled nastily. "Besides, Clare, we don't even have a full set of supplies, let alone a pitch …"

"Actually, Clare and I have already addressed the supplies problem," Hermione said from the doorway, closing her cell phone. "I've just gotten an e-mail from Bowman Wrightworks in Godric's Hollow that our Snitch is on its way. You lot have enough training gear that flight pads aren't at a loss, and Phineas thinks he knows of a clearing large enough to make a pitch, at least after some work, he said. That just leaves the question of the Bludger. I might have a solution for that, but I want to talk to Udonna first."

"Why didn't you just order a Bludger from the Wrightworks at the same time, Hermione?" George sat forward from where he was lounging against the stairs. "They make them as well. I should know; that's where Professor McGonagall ordered our replacement from after you blew up the Bludger Dobby jinxed in your second year."

"Well, I would have, but they said they would have to send it by Muggle Post, and I really don't see the American's Homeland Security letting a self-propelled cannonball through Customs, do you?"

"Whoy would they have to use the Post?" Zander asked, curiosity piqued.

"Well, they can send a Snitch by Owl Post, meaning it'll be here in next to no time, but no owl born can carry a Bludger," Hermione sniffed primly, while George snorted uproariously.

Quidditch

Author's Note: It's come to my attention that this fic has been ignored by me for too long. In an effort to make amends, I am posting the abridged version. Anyone who would like me to put up the LONG story I'm still bludgeoning out from between cracks in my writer's block of a skull, please PM or review to let me know of your interest, and ... patience. In the meantime, enjoy what I already had worked out. The match itself is next, barring overwhelming reader response for the rest of the lead-up. Catch ya all on the flipside, so don't get caught in the downslide, A J.