𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍; 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫.

𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢: 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐬

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄, 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒. She had never, not in her entire life, flown in such rain as this—and she could say, confidently, if asked, that she never wanted to fly in conditions like these ever again. 

"Okay, team," James said bracingly, shaking his magnificent head of cold water all over everyone. "Listen here. We've got it bad, all right, and I know none of us can see at all, but listen—it's just as bad for the Hufflepuff team, isn't it? And we're the ones that had those consistent rain practices anyway."

Gideon Prewett, in an attempt to dry his Beater's bat off, wiped it on his robes, but sighed; perhaps he only had made it wetter. "So, what you're saying is that we're all suffering, but since we suffered more in the past, we might not suffer quite as much as the Hufflepuffs are suffering because in comparison to all the suffering we've suffered before, this won't seem as bad, but they're all suffering since they haven't—"

"—shut up," Amara snapped, rolling her temples. "God, Gideon, just hit some Bludgers around, alright?"

"Yeah, mate," Fabian Prewett, his twin and the third Chaser on the team. "Just do your bloody job, and we'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," Gideon said, shaking his head. "I can't even see the damn bat!"

Cassian Russell, the Keeper, squeezed his gloves, watching water slosh out dutifully. "I say we suck it up and be big kids, you lot."

"Amen," James said grimly. "We can't do anything about this weather, can we? But we can control how we respond. So let's go out there and show all our Gryffindor supporters a good ass time, alright?"

The rest of the team cheered, some resemblance of a fire sparking in their bellies again; and it was with a renewed determination that Amara turned and fixed her attention on the roaring, red-clad crowd above them, waving banners and flags—soaked as they were—and forming a great, singular, chant:

"GRY-FFIN-DOR! GRY-FFIN-DOR!"

"Lions on three, then," Amara said, sticking her arm in the middle of the circle.

"Hell, no, Avison," James replied instantly. "I'm the Captain, I do the circle-thing."

She blinked. "Oh, all right, then. I'm sorry—go on. Go on."

"Lions on three," he said. "One—two—three—"

"LIONS!" they roared in sync, whipping their fists upwards and clamoring back on their slippery broomsticks. 

"And, with a whoosh and a bang, here comes Gryffindor," Sirius was saying enthusiastically, from the safety of his umbrella. He adjusted his grip on the purple microphone. "First ones out of the time-out, called by Captain and sixth year James Potter—first time as a Captain, and, might I say, he's doing a fantastic job—I mean, look at the team he's put out this year, all returning players save for Amara Avison, sixth year! I think—" here he paused, and, with a comical expression, placed a hand to cup his ear in the direction of the Gryffindor supporters, "that our new Gryffindor addition deserves some love! Let's hear it for AVISON, NUMBER NINETEEN!"

Amara flushed slightly, smiling brilliantly at the crowd as they whistled, stomped, cheered, and screamed for her, hands in the air. She glanced at the Hufflepuff team, still deep in their huddle, and swerved into a hairpin dive, before pulling out right at the edge of the stands. She swept along the side, holding out her hand and high-fiving as many hands as she could reach, before she reached the end of the stands.