Hufflepuff, Quidditch, & Queer

Chapter 3: Quidditch Fields

Marie Mood-board as chapter image

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The polished wood of Minerva's old broom felt completely new in her hands. She had just spent the past hour refining the old bristles and wood to make sure it would work as well as any new model broom. It took some charms, but nothing a textbook and wand couldn't fix.

The quidditch field was empty, other than Minerva. It was still early, the sun only had risen just minutes after she finished. The morning dew glistened in the dawn sunlight and wet the hems of her jeans. No one was there and it was the perfect time to try out her additions.

"Please work. Try outs are two days from now and we don't have time to do this again," Minerva said to the broom. She hopes the inanimate object was like some of the one that were found in the wizarding world: not entirely inanimate, like her wand.

She stomped her foot against the soft solid, hard. Hard enough where she felt it in her ankle. Minerva's body launched forward, the wind rushing into her face and whipping her ponytail about. She would time herself the time it would take to get to one side of the field to the other. It need to be merely seconds if she were to make the team. Other seekers and beaters could do it, so she could too. Snitches could do it in half the time. So could bludgers if they're hit hard enough.

"Looking good!" Hannah, one of the chasers for the Gryffindor team waved from the stands. Her and the Ravenclaw keeper were holding their brooms under their arms and a quaffle between them.

"Do you guys need the field?" Minerva pulled herself to a stop. "I was just out for a little fun. I'm sure you guys want to practice or something."

"I mean, if you're using it, we can wait." Hannah sat in one of the stands' seats.

"No, we really can't," Ian rolled his eyes. "Love you, Minerva, but with a bunch of newbies trying out we need to be on our game, just in case."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll see you in Potions then."

"You sure you want to leave?" Hannah asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," Minerva floated herself down to the seats. "You guys are starting from up here?"

"Drop control." Ian was leaning over the edge, looking down towards the ground. "Trying to get a better control on my stomach."

Minerva tried not to laugh about Ian's mishap last year. He had dropped from the sky, faster than a bullet —to scoop up the quaffle— but ended up in the dirt and vomiting. She left horribly bad for him. Minerva remembered in her second year she vomited after the Christmas dinner, so watching everyone stare at Ian made her stomach drop.

"I'll be going now," Minerva mounted her broom and looked down over the edge. She could feel her stomach drop and her hair clear out of her face. Everything left weightless. Everything felt free.

Minerva stumbled into the grass, landing in a full run. The soft grass squished under her feet. She didn't mind ending sooner than expected. She had to get to class anyways, and she wanted to prepare some extra work that she needed to do for Professor Longbottom's class.

The quad seemed to be a perfect place to study in the early morning. People were just waking up, getting ready, and heading to the Great Hall go grab breakfast. Only a few stragglers or those who decided to skip out on eating where there. Minerva sat on some maroon bricks, balancing parchments and books on her knees and open spaces around her. She had told the professor that she would happily do the grading for him. It was a simple test to examine their pre knowledge of magical plants before the course.

Minerva enjoyed the grading. Her mind wouldn't wander when she was checking off boxes and reading curly handwriting. Those who grew up in a magical family had some knowledge on the plants that they'd be studying that semester. The muggle-borns either studied before hand or had amazing common sense because they hadn't done so bad either.