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Blast from the Past
Author: Rowan Westwick
Date: 10-28-12 11:29
Diagon Alley always had some level of activity, being the predominant wizarding hub in London, but it didn't seem quite as busy as usual. This was, no doubt, on account of the Quidditch World Cup. Those fortunate enough to attend were out of the country. Others were following the match, in which Great Britain was playing Portugal, at World Cup listening parties.
Rowan, Willow and the Finches had not gone to St. Petersburg. None were big Quidditch enthusiasts, though they all possessed the national pride that went along with events such as the World Cup. They wanted Britain to win.
Elgiva decided today was as good as any to conduct back-to-school shopping for the girls. A few of the stores had CLOSED signs in the windows, probably because of the Quidditch World Cup, but many were open.
Each girl studied her list. They more or less had to start from scratch, since many of the school supplies they had purchased during their first stints at Hogwarts had gotten lost or had not faired well in the quarter century that had passed.
They purchased new cauldrons from Potages and various potions and herbology supplies from Slug & Jiggers. They picked up new quills, parchment and bottles of ink from Scribbulus Everchanging Inks and Scribbulus Writing Implements. They left Flourish & Blotts with too many books to carry, which Elgiva decided to run home quickly while the girls had ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.
While in the parlor, they caught part of the World Cup on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Mr. Fortescue was a very vocal Quidditch fan and yelled constantly, at times pleased or displeased with the play-by-play.
The girls finished their ice cream before Elgiva returned and decided to step outside for some fresh air and where it was decidedly more quiet, though they could still hear Fortescue yelling through the wall.
They leaned against a part of the building where there wasn't a window and watched some of the passersby.
"No way," Willow exclaimed suddenly. Her gaze was fixed on somebody coming towards them on the cobbled street.
Rowan followed Willow's gaze and saw a man of about 40 with dark hair and blue eyes. He had the profile of a model, with high cheekbones, a perfect nose and curved lips. At first Rowan only thought Willow found the older man attractive, which he most certainly was, but then she gasped.
"It's him, isn't it?" Willow asked.
"Oh my Merlin," Rowan said under her breath. "It's Logan."
His gaze met hers for a moment, but he didn't register who she was. He walked past the two Westwick girls and eventually disappeared through the arch at The Leaky Cauldron.
Rowan looked at Willow. "I don't think he recognized me."
"It's been over two decades," Willow said, "and besides, he only knew you as his roommate's kid sister."
"I know." Rowan's heart was beating fast. This was the first time she had seen somebody from her past, somebody whose life had gone on while hers had remained stagnant.
"That was really weird," she added.
Willow nodded. "Yeah."
Elgiva suddenly materialized beside them. "Okay, now what do we need?"
When the girls didn't answer right away, she studied them quizzically. "Girls? Are you all right?"
Rowan and Willow exchanged looks and then Willow said, "Rowan just saw her old crush, and he's OLD."
Elgiva looked at Rowan. "Rowan, are you okay?"
Rowan nodded slowly. "Yeah, just weirded out is all."
Elgiva put a hand on her shoulder. "I know it's hard, but you've already adjusted so well. I'm really proud of you."
"Thanks," Rowan murmured. She looked at her shopping list. "We need to get star charts and a telescope."
"Then we need to visit the Astronomer's Nook. It should be that way," Elgiva said, pointing in the correct direction. They set off, with Rowan constantly looking around to see who else she might run into from her past.
(Aveline) Chaser at the World Cup
Author: Ethan Somerset
Date: 10-28-12 13:56
The Portuguese chasers had managed to bring the quaffle to the British goal hoops and were jockeying for position to score, while their fellow beaters seemed determined to take British keeper Pyrrhus Fine out of the game. Fortunately, the British beaters saved Pyrrhus the trouble and used the two black balls to their advantage. One clipped Sarita Ferdinando's arm, while the other banged right into Ludovico Raton's kneecap. Aveline winced when she heard the impact, but wasted no effort in stealing the quaffle from Beatriz Basso.
She turned around abruptly, but it was somewhat difficult with everybody else close by. Somehow she managed it without hitting anybody with any part of her broomstick or body, and vice versa. A narrow opening presented itself, and she darted through it, and out of the fray.
It didn't take long for a hailstorm of bludgers to follow her. She felt one whiz past her left ear. The other struck her in the hip, and while the impact pushed her slightly off course, it didn't force her to lose her grip on the quaffle. Still, she decided she needed to pass the red ball to one of her fellow chasers. She glanced around, saw Etch Morgan pull up even with her, and tossed the quaffle in his direction. It was a long pass, and would have easily been intercepted had a Portuguese chaser been in the vicinity, but luckily Britain retained possession of the quaffle.
Etch pulled the quaffle securely against his body and propelled himself forward with a burst of speed.
Aveline allowed herself a moment to rub the sore spot on her hip. It stung a bit, but she knew that she had only managed to get bruised. It most definitely could have been worse.
She quickly glanced around the stadium, at all the fans cheering on both teams. No one from her family had come to see her play. Her parents were on the lam and couldn't––not that she necessarily wished they could. Rosamond was dead. Ethan had wanted to come, but Lilly had gotten sick at the last minute. At least she knew that he was probably listening to the match at home.
Aveline stopped massaging her hip and promptly got back to business, charging forward to assist her fellow chasers in moving the quaffle all the way to the Portuguese goal hoops.
Junk Food Junkie
Author: Plum
Date: 10-28-12 15:27
At the tugging on her sleeve, Plum leans down to better hear what Alex wants. "Can I have popcorn?"
"Not until you've had some real food."
"Popcorn is real food. It's corn."
"A type of corn, yes, and you want it slathered in butter, which isn't good."
"What if it's caramel corn instead?"
"That's even worse. You've eaten way too much junk food since last night."
"Nuh-uh. Only what you and Anthony let me," Alex says with the innocent of an angel.
"You seem to be forgetting all the other food you've convinced others to let you have when I wasn't looking."
"That counts?"
"Yes, that counts."
Plum has to pause for a moment as those rallying for Portugal fill the stands with a might roar when Basso intercepts a crucial pass from Morgan to Hodfuffer. Crucial in that if Wiggy had gotten his hands on the quaffle just now he would have been with optimal scoring range.
When the noise dies down enough that she doesn't have to shout to be heard she tells Alex, "You need to have either a sandwich or a hamburger or chicken. I even think there's a vendor selling fish and chips, not that you need the chips at this point and fried food also isn't the best when you've had nothing but junk but at least the fish is protein."
Alex points to a man several rows over from them who is eating some sort of sub sandwich. "What about that?"
"Something like that would be much bettr right now. Do you want to come with me so you can tell me exactly what you want on it?"
"But I'd miss Uncle Toby beating everyone up with the bludger."
"You would miss a few minutes of the match but I am sure if you ask nicely Anthony would get it all on your omniocculars for you."
Alex turns his attention to Anthony who is on his other side and turns on his charm to make the request. When he's satisfied he will get to see anything that happens while he's gone getting a sandwich Plum leans over to ask if Anthony wants anything. He taps the mug he's holding. "Another of these and a sandwich. Surprise me with what kind."
Even though Alex knows he won't miss anything now, it still takes another couple of minutes to pry him away from the action, not that Plum can blame him. It takes a few minutes to find the sub sandwich vendor but they are fortunate that the current line isn't very long. Soon they are on their way back to their seats, Alex antsy to return and made more so when Plum makes him wait a little longer so she can get Anthony's drink refill.
The second they are back, Alex is asking of everyone they are with, "What did I miss? What did I miss?" and a short while after that when he's handing Plum the quarter of his uneaten sandwich he's asking, "NOW can I have popcorn?"
The Marks Supporting Britain (Almost All of Them Anyway)
Author: Rylee
Date: 10-29-12 14:22
"Seriously Michelle, if you are going to support Portugal, at least stay in the tent and listen to the match." Charlotte said with a grin at her younger sister.
"Pfft! With Pyrrhus injured Portugal has a stronger chance of winning especially if he gets hit with another bludger like he did before."
"If Britain gets left without a Keeper, it just means that Murray needs to catch the snitch before Portugal can score anything, plain and simple." Charlotte said with a roll of her eyes.
"However, if that does happen and Eunice doesn't catch the snitch that means Pyrrhus will be known as the player who left Britain's hoops undefended during the world cup match, an honor I would not bestow upon anyone." Emily said finishing off a bite of popcorn.
"No kidding. I'd hate to be known as the person that cost Britain the World Cup." Charlotte said and Michelle nodded her head in agreement.
The three older Marks children fall silent aside from occasional cheers and jeers as they turn their attention back to the match.
Rylee shifts lightly in her seat and attempts to follow the expanse of the match. She'd spent the past few weeks reading heavily on the subject so she wouldn't sound like such an idiot when she cheered or talked to her siblings about the different teams that were competing in the qualifying matches and ultimately the two teams that were vying for the world cup at this very moment on the outskirts of St. Petersburg, Russia.
"What are you thinking about Rylee?" Jasmine said as she plopped back down next to her little sister after making another food run. "What'd I miss?"
"Another attempt and failure to score by the Portugal team that had Michelle pouting and booing furiously, and then another attempt at a score by Britain and it failed as well which had Michelle cheering and Charlotte pouting." Rylee said, sniping her basket of fish and chips from the pile that Jasmine had returned with. She also dutifully helped pass down the remainder of the food to everyone else that had wanted something on this food run.
"I see. Well, has there been any potential snitch sightings by either Eunice Murray or Vincente Fuzeta?"
"There was an almost sighting of the snitch but it got away from both of them at this point. Though I think Eunice may have locked on to something, but Vincente hasn't noticed yet." Rylee said after finishing a chip and taking a sip of butterbeer.
"Right then. Back to the action then."
Mary and Elijah Marks sat in their seats and truth be told, this was the most animated Rylee had seen her parents unless it was something major in their social circles or dealing with a fashion show or something along those lines, it was weird.
They were both currently cheering on the British National Team and apparently were both quite knowledgeable in quidditch terminology and that shocked Rylee because she hadn't seen them like this before. Either way it was somewhat refreshing.
Small conversations were struck up briefly through the cheering and jeering as the plays continued across the pitch, and most of the Marks family cheered loudly along with the rest of the British supporters when the Brits scored and booed loudly when the Portugal team scored, though Michelle Marks cheered loudly along with the Portugal fans when they scored.
Union Jack Hats All Around - Go Britain
Author: Adina Blackwood
Date: 10-29-12 14:42
Both families currently sported charmed Union Jack hats in support of the British National Team playing in the Quidditch World Cup. They'd been one of the things that Elona had gotten for them during their time in St. Petersburg.
As it was, Britain was doing well and no one was thrilled that Pyhrrus had been injured and could possibly be taken out of the game. Adina remembered what some of those injuries felt like...she'd experienced some of them when she was playing on the team for the IQT and then unfortunately had to give it up. Maybe next year she'd try out again.
For now she cheered along with Arthur as an attempt to score by Etch Morgan was good through the Portugal hoops guarded by Letícia Estrela Dário Dobreiro. The entire stadium it seemed was filled with a violent cheering and it was indeed a good thing that the entire area had been spelled to be shielded from muggle eyes because that noise would have surely caused a scene.
"That was an epic throw by Fletcher! Seriously!" Arthur said as he finished off another chunk of baklava that he'd pulled from the chest we'd brought up with food in it for the duration of the game.
"I know it! Also, if you don't keep your hands out of the ice chest no one else will have anything to eat for the rest of the match."
Laughing lightly Arthur grinned and reached in for a bottle of water and closed the lid once more. She just shook her head. "Seriously Arthur, what am I going to do with you?"
After a few minutes they fell into a conversation about the upcoming school year that went through the cheers and jeers of the match's progress playing.
Haunted
Author: Jolyon
Date: 10-29-12 17:52
When his father had still been alive, Jolyon had always knocked before entering his parents' home. He'd always been intimidated by the man who had raised him, and even in adulthood had wanted to avoid any form of confrontation if at all possible. Now he didn't have to worry about his father's snide comments. Jolyon stepped into the house, cushioning a squirming, tiny bundle to his side, and peered into the rooms adjacent to the foyer.
When he didn't see his mother, he continued down the hall toward the kitchen. She wasn't there either. He saw the remains of a meal on the island counter and zeroed in on the fact that there were two plates, two sets of silverware, and a pair of drinking glasses. Jolyon narrowed his eyes, knowing it was too much to hope for that his mother had been entertaining a neighbor or a friend from her quilting group.
But where was she?
He walked to the very back of the house and peered out the windows, but he didn't see her in the yard.
Then he heard a thump and a shriek coming from his mother's bedroom. Jolyon darted for her room and threw open the door in time to see something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. His mother, wrapped in a sheet, giggled while Gaius Lorey squirmed around on top of her. He, unfortunately, wasn't covered by anything and bared his very hairy backside for all to see.
Both glanced abruptly at the doorway when Jolyon threw open the door.
"Oh, Mum!" Jolyon exclaimed, turning away and covering his eyes with his free hand.
He stalked down the hall, while his mother called out, "Jolyon, wait a moment!"
He went straight to the sitting room and plopped down on the sofa, cradling the puppy he carried. The little dog had a solid brown coat and blue eyes. It wore a red bow around its neck.
A moment later Jolyon's mother emerged from her room, dressed in a pale yellow bathrobe. Her hair was mussed up and she looked flushed, either from her bedroom antics or embarrassment, Jolyon wasn't sure and didn't care.
"Sweetheart," she said, sitting down in the armchair across from the sofa. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "I'm sorry you had to see that, but you could have knocked."
"Yes, thank you for that," Jolyon snapped, but he instantly felt badly for speaking to his mother in that tone of voice. He wasn't angry with her. He was angry with Gaius Lorey for taking advantage of a widow.
Gaius came into the room, his lower half wrapped in a sheet. His chest was as hairy as his bottom.
"Sorry, old chap. I'm sure you're in shock."
Jolyon stared daggers at Gaius.
"Sweetheart," Bridget said to her son. "You have to accept the fact that I've moved on, and I am a woman who has needs…"
"Mum, please!" Jolyon exclaimed. He had seen enough and really didn't need any more mental pictures to add to his agony.
"I'm sorry," Bridget said, "but it's true. I'm a grown woman, and you're a grown man, and you know all about biology and sexuality and––"
"Mum. I understand. Really. I shouldn't have come, but as I am here, I'll leave you with this." He held out the little puppy. "It's a vizsla, a boy."
"He's so adorable," Bridget exclaimed, accepting the little dog. "Oh, Gaius. Look! Isn't he precious?"
"He is a very fine looking dog, isn't he?" Gaius said, leaning closer to scratch the puppy behind the ear.
"But what's the occasion?" Jolyon's mother asked him.
Jolyon shrugged. "I just thought you might want some companionship." He pointedly did not look at Gaius, though the older wizard was hard to miss in his periphery.
"So, now that that's done," Jolyon went on, rising, "I'll be on my way. Sorry to disturb your…" sexcapades.
"Love-making," Gaius supplied.
Jolyon wanted to throttle him. Instead he said goodbye to his mother, turned on his heel, and left the house. He stomped through the front yard and then down the sidewalk, knowing if he tried to apparate now, he would splinch himself. No, it would be better to walk off his anger.
Q&A Tristan Style
Author: Griffin Price
Date: 10-29-12 18:34
Orginally scheduled to work this weekend Griffin had ended up trading with someone who needs next weekend off for some family thing. He'd been able to get some World Cup tickets but being last minute meant they are far back and high up. Being Quidditch, one might think high up would be great for viewing but when the seats come with seatbelts because of the low gravity, they are a little too high even for Quidditch. Still, the main thing is being here with Carys, Tristan, and Alun, enjoying a family outing. Even the cats are along, safe in the tent, having fun exploring a new space.
Tristan has been having a blast today, first on the campground and then here at the match. He's spent as much time in Griff's lap as he has his own seat, for some reason preferring standing on Dad's legs to watch the action. For Griff, this has meant watching the bulk of the match around the form of his five year old's torso but as long as his vision isn't entirely obstructed, he's not going to force the overly excited boy to his own seat or, worse, Tristan trying to convince Alun or Carys to let him stand in their laps. At five, nearly six, Tristan is no lightweight in the long term, especially when he forgets he's not supposed to eagerly bounce while cheering on Britain.
As Britain makes another drive in for goal Tristan starts tap tap tapping on one of Griff's arm. "Dad? Dad? Dad?"
Shifting his hold on Tristan's hips to then shift himself to better hear over the roar of spectators. "What is it, Tristan?"
"If I keep playing Little League, I can do this?"
"If you keep playing Little League and keep playing when too big for Little League, even if not on a team, you may be good enough to become a professional player."
"Is that yes?"
"That's maybe. You have to be a professional player and then get picked to be on the national team and the national team has to win all their matches to get to the World Cup AND this doesn't get played every single year."
"It doesn't?"
"No. It's only every four years."
"Like your real birthday."
Griff, a leap year baby, chuckles, "Yes, exactly, like my real birthday."
Collective disappointment fills the stadium as the British National Team supporters switch from cheering to being less than happy at having the Portuguese keeper block the initial goal drive and four successive rebound attempts. Tristan screws up his face in a frown. "We didn't get more numbers?"
"No, we didn't score again."
"But our team will win, right?"
"I hope so. The one I pointed out named Eunice Murray has to get the snitch first."
"What if I see it first?"
"Then we will have to try and get Eunice's attention without letting the other seeker know."
"What's that one's name again?"
"His name is Vincente Fuzeta."
"That's sort of like Vincent on my Little League team."
"Yes, and probably Vincente is how people in Portugal say Vincent."
"They don't talk like us?"
"They speak a different language called Portuguese. Remember this morning you heard some people you thought sounded funny?"
"Yeah."
"They were talking in Portuguese and that little girl in the tent across from ours that you had trouble talking to? Her language is called Russian."
"Russian? Like we are in Russian?"
"We are in Russia but yes, like that."
"So she's from here?"
"Probably not St. Petersburg since her family is staying in a tent but from this country, yes."
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"I bet Mummy and Great Granddad are hungry again. You should get them something."
"And while I am up getting them something, I should get something for you too?"
"Yeah, like ice cream."
Griff rolls his eyes but grins. He leans over to ask Carys, "If I get the bottomless pit here an ice cream cone, would you like anything?"
"An ice cream cone sounds good, thanks."
"What about Alun?"
Carys turns to her grandfather to ask, the noise enough that Griff can't really hear what's said what with both Tristan's and Carys's seats between him and the older wizard. A few seconds later Carys is telling Griff, "Ice cream all around. You have an pretty good idea of what flavors we like."
Shifting once more to stand while lifting Tristan off his lap Griff asks the boy, "Do you want to come with me or stay here and keep my seat warm?"
"Come with you so I can pick."
Once on the aisle of steps, Griff lifts Tristan to carry him piggy back, his son asking in his ear, "Dad, how is ice cream made and if we win, can I have nine scoops?"
Family and the World Cup
Author: Arlington J Montgomery
Date: 10-29-12 21:04
"Whoa! This is awesome!" Crew ran up to the edge of the Morgan family's private box. The stadium was packed, and everyone could feel the excited energy that permeated the air. The box was full today: Karma, Dexter, Ember, Cameron Hawthorne, Seb, Arley, Crew, Mase and Camden Vanderbilt were all on hand to enjoy the excitement and magic of the World Cup.
"You better behave, Crewbie." Camden Vanderbilt grinned from beside her friend.
"I'm behaving this time, I promise Cammie." Crew looked back at his family, and then turned his attention back to the pitch as he tried to catch a glimpse of his parents.
Sebastian and Arley kept close to their nephew; Fallon and Fletcher would kill them if Crew got into trouble again.
"Are you seriously still pouting, Dex?" Karma turned her attention from the start of the match to her boyfriend.
"No…I just…I don't like that guy, Kar. You know I knew a dog named Vladimir…"
"Yes, I know that Dex. He's nothing to worry about though, and you know that. You still shouldn't compare someone to a dog, though." She smiled and pulled him in for a quick kiss.
"Mmm, that kiss make me feel better. Granted I liked the dog, but not your ex." Dexter grinned and settled back into his seat, his fingers laced with Karma's as she sat down beside him.
Ember took her seat between Karma and Cameron. "You guys are sickeningly sweet. It's annoying."
Dex rolled his eyes at his little sister. "Right, like you and cam aren't?"
"I am not!" Em went quiet for a moment, before she changed the subject. "I thought Mom and Dad would have been here by now?"
"They should have been, but you know them. Always busy working or traveling. I know Driver had to work, he was bummed to miss this."
Karma cuddled into Dexter more as the match continued, everyone occasionally leapt to their feet to cheer as Britain moved in for a chance to score again, or regained possession of the quaffle. This family was a gang a quidditch fanatics. Arley and Seb were intently watching every play, comparing some of the moves they had mastered in their quidditch days on the Hufflepuff team at Hogwarts. Little Mase was curled up, sound asleep in his chair. The excitement was too much for the two year old, but somehow he slept through the screaming of everyone in the stadium.
"I wish we still played, Arley." Seb sighed a little as he watched the match.
Arley wrapped an arm around Seb and pulled him close as he lightly kissed his cheek. "I know ya do, Sebby. I miss it too, we were pretty awesome."
"We're still pretty awesome, quidditch or not." Seb smiled ad rested his head back against Arley for a moment but yelled as Fletcher intercepted a pass from Portugal.
"Gee, thanks honey I'm deaf now." Arley shook his head and chuckled at Sebastian's enthusiasm. "You're as excited as the kids are." He grinned and gestured to Crew and Camden, who jumped and cheered at the railing.
"I cannot help it, you find this match exhilarating too. Besides, family is playing so that only adds to my current state of excitement." The blonde Swede stated, Arley tried to hide how proud he was of his sister and brother-in-law, but he was beyond excited for them.
Just then two people moved into the box. "I am so sorry we're late, we were trying to get in last night but were held up on a flight."
Ember smiled hearing her mother and father. "Yay, you made it! I still don't see why you took muggle transportation; apparating of flooing is super quick.
Fia Morgan lightly shook her head and pulled her youngest child and only daughter into a hug. "You know we enjoy traveling like muggles. It amuses us, Emie. Now, how are you feeling today?"
"I've been fine." Cameron gave Ember a look as he raised an eyebrow at her answer.
"Really, Em?" Cam stood to greet the Morgan parents; they had met not long ago when Ember informed them of her pregnancy.
Ember lightly shook her head, "I don't like throwing up, but other than that I feel great. Cam's helping me out, and this peppermint tea he got helps a lot."
"Well I'm sure he and Karma and Dexter will take good care of you. You need to start telling people, you can't hide this forever my baby girl."
"That's what I've been telling her." Karma added as she moved to hug Fia, Dex hugged his mother in return.
Em nodded in agreement. "I know, but I'm taking it slow. I'm afraid people will judge me for keeping the baby."
"You'll be alright, brat." Dex smiled and lightly patted Ember's arms.
Ember nodded again and made a mental note to send a note over to Bronwyn and Desi who were in the next box over with their family. She would try to talk to them, but couldn't hear that well over all the people. During a free moment she managed to scribble a quick note and passed it across the spectators between them to Desi and Bron.
Hey Desi, Bronwyn. Sorry we can't talk tonight, this match is awesome! I need to talk to the two of you later. Maybe we could meet up after the match is over, or we can chat at Emry's Fest? I just really, really need to talk to you girls.
Ember
Easton nodded and moved his attention to greet everyone else before getting sucked into the match. His eldest son, Fletcher was doing well, not obviously injured yet, unlike Britain's keeper. He hoped Britain would come out on top, but it was too early to tell, and in Quidditch anything could happen.
"Diapy!" Mase stated as he woke up and cried. He need a fresh diaper.
Sebastian pulled away from Arley and picked up Mase as he woke up and started to cry. "We need to have your Mummy and Daddy work on potty training you, little one." He said to the whining little boy. Alright, I'm going to go change him. I'll be back."
"Okay Seb." Arley watched Sebastian exit the box with Mase and his bag. He was still amazed at how natural his boyfriend was with the kids; maybe they need to have the 'do you want kids soon' talk again.
After Sebastian returned with a refreshed, clean Mase the family had settled into their seats again, keeping their attention on the match even though they would segue into other topics. After the match they would head back to their huge family tent and relax for the night, although celebrating a win would be best.
And the World Cup Winner Is…
Author: Phinfilius
Date: 10-30-12 18:49
Portugal has called a time out, its last remaining. The British team uses the time to congregate, listening to head coach Baxter Conroy going over a couple of spots of weakness they need to shore up and ones for the other team they need to take advantage of. As he listens Wiggersmythe gently palpates up and down the pinky on his left hand. He knows he shouldn't do it but every time there's been even a slight break in the action he's found himself assessing the finger.
Forty-five minutes to an hour ago the quaffle had gone into free fall when a bludger knocked it out of Aveline's hands. Wiggy dove after as did Ludovico Raton. They reached for the ball at roughly the same time, hands smacking hard against each other. At first, in the adrenaline of the moment, Wiggy hadn't noticed anything wrong. He'd snagged the quaffle, jerking it back from Ludovico.
It wasn't until after he'd passed off to Etch Morgan roughly a minute later that the pain really began to sink in. At first he'd thought maybe he'd jammed it when Ludovico and he smacked hands; then, he started thinking maybe it's dislocated but it doesn't have the look a dislocated finger usually has. As the time since then has passed, Wiggy's reached the conclusion that somehow that hand smack broke a bone or two. It hurts and can be distracting but being the pinky it's not as bad as it would be if one of his middle fingers or thumbs.
It's also not the only painful distraction. Early on he took a bludger to the knee. If not for the guards he wears, the kneecap might have been dislocated or even broken. As it is, he's just got a growing knot and this time tomorrow it will probably be a nicely dark purple. There are the other aches and pains that go with playing chaser in quidditch, hits to the shoulders, arms, legs, etc that aren't always enough to leave a bruise or break skin or break bone but which sting for a bit. It's just all part of playing the sport. He's certain others have at least minor aches by this point if not some bruises and strains. Portugal's Beatriz Basso is even sporting a black eye from where she didn't dodge a bludger in time because of keeping Sarita Ferdinando in sight to pass the quaffle to.
Just before the time out ends, Wiggy gets Coiach to help him tape the injured pinky to index finger. The whistle blows and the match resumes with Portugal in possession of the quaffle. The current score is Portugal 50 to Britain's 30. Given that Pyrrhus Fine thinks he's got a broken collarbone, and has for much of the match, Wiggy thinks Py's doing an excellent job of blocking as many quaffle shots as he has.
Just past the center pitch point going towards the British hoops guarded by Py, Ludovico puts the quaffle back into play with a pass to Beatriz. Ducking around Kody and his bat in pursuit of a bludger, she rapidly accelerates down the pitch with Ludovico closely flanking. Sarita had positioned herself further along as the play resumed and she's now signaling Beatriz to pass.
Beatriz does just that, not checking to see if Sarita is as open as she's signaling herself to be. Next thing the Portuguese team knows Etch has the quaffle, snatched mid-pass and is turning the action in the opposite direction. Zigging to avoid a bludger from Nestor Lusitano, Etch rapidly gains grounds, quickly getting the quaffle back over the mid point. Harassed by another bludger and with Ludovico charging in close looking to steal back the ball, Etch passes to Aveline.
Aveline works the ball even closer to keeper Leticia Dobreiro, eventually handing off to Wiggy as Beatriz and Sarita catch up with her. Beatriz stays on Aveline with Sarita going after Wiggy. He's got the quaffle tucked in close and has a fairly straight, currently unobstructed shot to the hoops. He increases his speed, looking as though he's going to fly head on into Leticia. If he'd been on the ground, there would have been skid marks as he rapidly slowed, letting go of the quaffle. Letitica had actually been steeling herself for a collision. As a result she was overly tense, which in turn slowed her reaction time just enough for the quaffle to get past her outstretched fingers, bringing the score to 50 Portugal, 40 Britain.
At almost the same time Aveline was passing to Wiggy, the seekers Eunice Murray and Vincente Fuzeta both spot the snitch. With attention mainly focused on Wiggy giving everyone the impression he was going to ram into Leticia few notice the sprint Eunice and Vincente are doing to get near the winged ball. It's only as Wiggy's impression of a mid-air skid results in a goal that most become aware of the near head to head race the seekers are in to be the first to get a hand on the coveted snitch.
As Portugal is putting the quaffle back into play after Britain's fourth goal, most spectator attention is on the two seekers, rounding a corner of the pitch right along the boundary. The snitch is leading them down one length of the pitch, on such a shallowly angled dive at first no one, not even the seekers, realize they are getting nearer to the ground. The snitch cuts in across the pitch, the seekers staying right with it. The snitch slows every so slightly, resulting in both seekers leaning further forward, hands grasping. Suddenly both are on the ground and both are claiming to have caught the snitch, each with a hand on it.
Chasers and beaters alike pause at a whistle from one of the referees. The head ref touches down, a silence falling over the stadium that's quite literally deafening after the echoing cheers, screams, and yells that had filled it less than half a second before. In the Quidditch equivalent of a Muggle photo finish, the head ref takes the snitch with gloved hands and has the two seekers stretch out the hands that had touched the winged ball. Everyone with omniocculars or the more mundane binoculars zooms in those two outstretched hands as the head ref checks the snitch's flesh memory. From his own vantage point, Wiggy can see fairly well but wouldn't mind an even better view as he is a little high up and that snitch is rather small.
The snitch responds to only one seeker's hand. A roar goes up as the official winner of the 425th Quidditch World Cup is announced...
Great Britain with a final score of 190 to 50.
Wiggy and the others still in the air practically fall out of the air as they rapidly descend to congregate on Eunice in a massive jubilant hug as the stadium once again fills with a roar that can probably be heard all the way to downtown St. Petersburg.