Elspeth Anne Ladds

"Students, as you might have noticed, a few of you have not returned from the trip. However, Ms. Itza and Mr. Goethe have returned to the forest to search for them.Unfortunately, that puts us at a bit of a standstill." The athletic man grinned ever so slightly, though even the smallest smile threatened to split his face wide with joy. "Fortunately, I have an idea.I'm sure you all know how to play Quidditch?"

There was an excited buzz as the room, but I couldn't stifle a scowl. Quidditch had never been my favorite sport - Professor Thrush, the official referee, had always said it was because of my "inability to follow the rules" and "disinterest for any position other than Beater", due to the "ability for mischief at nearly every opportunity". After one tryout second year in which I managed to give the captain a bloody nose and break three of her Keeper's fingers, I was unofficially banned from Quidditch, which didn't bother me. It was boring to play, and far better to watch, especially when you could bribe the announcer, a certain heavyset Andrew Hornery, to speak in Italian for the entire game. All it took was a promise to spend five Galleons on him the next Hogsmeade trip, and he was yelling, "Trenta a sessanta!"

Still, it might be fun to play a friendly game of Quidditch. I couldn't imagine the rules would be enforced so harshly as they were in the school games, though the gleam in the eyes of the remaining Mahoutokoro student.

It seemed that Mr. Wekesa had caught that gleam as well, because he added above the now-roaring conversations, "A friendly game, mind you! The normal rules are still applicable, though I won't call you out on some of the more forgivable fouls."

"Are we playing the duck rule?"

"The what?" I muttered, a sentiment that seemed to be echoed around the room.

The student who'd asked it glanced around worriedly. "You know, the duck rule? If there's a duck in the playing area, it counts as the Snitch."

"No. Now, can I trust you to divide into equal teams?" There was sudden rustle of movement as people lunged for their friends and the athletic-looking people - I noticed that Chris, the cute Castelobruxo boy, was corralled quickly to one side. I barely knew anyone other than him and Marielle, and Marielle didn't seem all that eager to be on a team with me. The tryout incident was nearly infamous in some circles.

"El!" Chris called, making my choice easy as he beckoned me over, smile wide. "Aquí!"

I jogged neatly over to him, rounding out the teams as Mr. Wekesa dragged out a large bronze chest, the familiar shape easy to recognize. As he opened, the wild-haired Cerise went through the room, passing out brooms. Mine was a respectable Comet Three Forty - not the newest, but easy to ride, which counted for something. I wouldn't be surprised to be the slowest rider in the room, although the prissy French sister, across the room from her excited sibling on our side, didn't look exceedingly overjoyed.

"Now, you all know the rules? A Keeper guards the goals, which Chasers try to score into with the Quaffle." He threw the maroon ball gently to Cerise, who held it carefully. "Ten points to each hoop you get it through. Beaters are the ones with the bats - I'd suggest you pick responsible students. They hit the Bludgers, which try to hit Chasers and Keepers, if the Quaffle is in the goal circle. Any other time, that's a foul. And of course, the Seeker looks for the Snitch." He held the Golden Snitch in one hand, its tiny, impeccable wings folded around itself. "The field is just outside. We moved a few trees. Try not to get above the treeline, eh? We don't need any Muggle explorers finding us."

I may have known the rules for Quidditch, but I didn't have any rules. It was impossible to know what to do in something you've barely done. Making friends - I'd done that hundreds of times. Staying safe in a mysterious forest - maybe not hundreds, but the Forbidden Forest was far more dangerous than the Yucatan. Impressing adults - easy enough if you knew what to do.

Quidditch was uncharted territory, and that scared me more than searching for the City of Gold did.

There was audible chatter as we trooped out of what had become the meeting tent towards the cleared area for a field - Mr. Weseka had enchanted a few hoops to float where the Quidditch hoops would be, perhaps a bit lower. I walked next to Chris, who waved his broom - the Cleansweep looked tiny next to his giant frame - excitedly as he talked.

"We play at school, but I am not very atlético - cómo se dice en Inglés?"

"Athletic?"

"Ah, si! I am not muy bueno at English." He glanced down at me with a hopeful light on his face. "You can teach me, El?"

I couldn't help a smile. "Maybe. If you teach me Español."

"Acuerdo."

"Deal," I corrected, the smile vanishing as we arrived on the field. I stared at the sky with a mixture of apprehension and reluctance. I didn't have much time to feel begrudging, though, because one of the Durmstrang girls on my team said loudly, "I'm being a Chaser."

"I'll be Keeper," volunteered the Japanese boy. "Who's Seeker? They need to be fast."

"You're small, Hogwarts. Any good?" The Durmstrang girl looked almost excited, which was the complete opposite of my expression.

I snorted. "No. I'll be a Beater." My glare dared anyone to argue, though they probably should have.

"Me too," Chris chimed in.

"Voy a ser detective. Seeker," the girl from Chris's school corrected. "We don't call it Seeker at Castelobruxo."

"At Mahoutokoro, it's-" He said something that sounded like "Keetcha." "Catcher."

"In my world, Quidditch means unnecessary exercise," I muttered under my breath.

"Ready?"

"Valdis, Beauxbatons, you're also Chasers?"

"Oui. Everything else is taken." That didn't damper the smile on Adrienne's face.

"Mount your brooms," Weseka called as the group circled up. I swung a leg over the side and winced as the broom bucked gently. I'd never flown it while holding a wooden bat before. I considered revolting, but doubted anyone else would follow me.

"Go!" The shrill whistle kicked off fourteen brooms rising into the air, albeit a few wobbly starts. I swallowed and rose with the others as the Bludgers were released.

Rule One for playing Quidditch for the first time: Don't get hit.

"El, estar atento!" I ducked just after Chris's warning, narrowly avoiding the Quaffle as Valdis threw it to her Durmstrang partner, who wove under the Bludger as the other Beaters smacked it towards her.

I gripped my bat hard and swung wildly, connecting weakly and spinning the ball - luckily - towards the other Beater. She ducked quickly and rose even faster to hit the ball at Adrienne, holding the Quaffle, but Chris intercepted and caught their Seeker in the leg.

"Nice one!" I cheered, throwing him a smile. He returned it immediately, and I felt pink rise in my cheeks as I corralled myself.

With the Quaffle safely being passed and the Bludgers at the other team, Chris flew next to me, hovering as his eyes darted around the field. "You didn't seem to excited when we started, El. Now you look bueno."

"I'm having more fun than I thought I would." I dove down quickly to spin the Bludger towards their Chaser, returning to Chris just as it connected and the French girl who wasn't one of the siblings sent me a glare.

Rule Two: Learn quickly how to hit things, because it's harder than it looks.

"You're doing well."

"You're doing well in English. Fast learner?"

"Si, I learn quickly. Especially in alchemy."

"You like alchemy?"

"Si, it's why I came. Why did you?"

I hesitated - truth or lie?

"I love the legend. It'd be amazing to see it for myself, and I wanted to get the new experiences, see the rest of the world, meet new people. . ." I glanced at him, and found his eyes on mine as well.

My blushing was starting to get annoying.

"Me too. I think I like the people most of all." He nudged his broom closer to mine, keeping eye contact and that bright smile on his face as he moved closer, closer. . . I wasn't sure whether it was flying or the shortening distance between us, but my stomach seemed to drop.

Perhaps it was only the impending doom, as a Bludger flew between our heads with the speed of a Snitch. I nearly screamed, and heard a giggle from Marielle below. "Pay attention, you two, and stop flirting!"

"We're not- I- Sorry!" I was only able to manage short sentences as my face burned, but I managed to hit the Bludger back at the Chaser.

Rule Three: Don't get distracted by cute partners.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marielle Appleton

"Quidditch?" Mari looked in disgust at the broom that was being handed to her. She was not a big fan of flying on skinny sticks when in a competition. She didn't mind flying on a broom as a tool for transportation, but Quidditch was a very different story. It was not a fear she had for no reason, of course. In fact, there was a very good reason for why she had decided she was not going to get on the broom. The very first time she had attempted to play the sport, after only being in the air for a few minutes, she was knocked out of the sky by a bludger. The fifty foot fall down was not the most exciting thing she had experienced, especially since she spent the next three days in the Hospital Wing. Since then, large clubs with balls accompanying them had become a big fear.

"Yes, quidditch. You have heard of it before, haven't you?" Valdis from Durmstrang gave Marielle a sideways glance, apparently appalled at the notion that she would not be jumping for joy at the thought of playing the fast paced game.

"Yes, I've heard of it. That doesn't mean I enjoy playing it."

The girl scoffed and turned away, with her group of friends, already planning out a strategy for the game.

As everyone appeared otherwise occupied, Mari stepped back, attempting to disappear into the shadows of the trees. She stopped however, by one of the experts.

"Mari!" Faraji approached with a warm smile spread across his face. "What are you doing? Don't you want to join us?" He motioned towards the two teams that had already formed.

"Not really, no. But thanks for asking!"

Apparently her detesting was futile, as Faraji took her response as a joke. "Come on! It is mandatory fun! You will love it!"

Mari grimaced as the friendly man ushered her over to one of the groups. She nearly thought about disapparating but then decided that going on the whole research trip would be a waste if she disappeared.

So instead she joined the group with the familiar face of El on it. Xena had vanished after the confrontation with whatever it was that lured Cerise into the depths of the jungle. Mari was confident in David and Gloria's abilities to find the few missing students but something in the back of her mind was telling her that hoping was futile. She chose to ignore the feeling.

"Do you want to be a beater?" El whispered to Mari, almost inaudibly.

"What?" Mari hissed, hearing the words "Do you want to be beaten?" instead.

"Do you want to be a beater? You know, the people who attempt to hit others out of the air with the bludger?"

"Um, I—" Prefer to keep both hands on the broom at all times, was what she was going to say.

But instead of waiting for Mari to finish, El turned towards the rest of the team. "We have another beater!"

In but a minute Marielle was placed on an old, extremely rickety, Nimbus 2000 with a large club in her hand. She could feel the sweat forming on her head as she remembered her last and only experience with the sport. "What are you doing?"

"I'm the seeker!" El responded, obviously very pleased with her position on the team. "Kazuhiko is the Keeper. Aimee is a chaser as are Kamaria and Christopher. They are trying to score." At the sound of their names each teammate raised their head as though acknowledging Marielle's presence. "Vendetta is a beater like you. Try to do as much damage as possible."

"Great," Mari muttered to herself.

"Gather round! Gather round!" Faraji seemed to be very excited to watch the match that was about to take place. "I want a clean game, you hear? We are all friends, there is no need to become overly physical or angry."

Mari swallowed the lump of fear that had formed in the back of her throat as a single whistle shout echoed across the beach. Then thirteen brooms rushed to greet the sky.

Noticing the deliberate delay from Mari, Cerise called out from her position on the sand, a broom nowhere in sight. "Go!"

Mari frowned, knowing that she should probably not anger the people she was going to be spending ample amounts of time with for the next few days. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, Mari shook as her broom took to the sky. She felt the crisp, morning air on her cheeks and a slight rustle of wind as someone rushed past her.

Peeking though one eye, Mari stared breathlessly at the beautiful scene before her. The white sand covered the ground like a blanket. Gentle waves brushed against the shore, kissing the beach before returning again to the depths of the sea. The sun smiled down on the players. It was an extremely peaceful scene considering the disappearances the night before. The world did not seem to understand that lives were in grave danger.

Mari watched as Valdis rushed forward with the Quaffel in hand, attempting to throw the ball through one of the three rings that had been created as the game began. Kazuhiko very calmly moved his broom in front of the projectile, knocking it away.

Just as it fell, Christopher zoomed underneath, catching the Quaffel before zooming to the other side of the playing field.

"Mari, don't just sit there!" El pulled up next to her. "Go steal the bludger from the other team, before it knocks someone down!"

Mari looked cautiously at the fray that was occurring near the sand. Vendetta slammed the bludger into the direction Adrienne, who was a chaser for the opposing team. A sibling rivalry seemed to be occurring between Adrienne and Aimee, as there brooms were neck in neck as the Quaffle fell.

After missing Adrienne, the bludger turned around. She watched as it flew high above the treetops, and straight into the direction of El, who was oblivious to the fact that she was in danger.

With a groan and a half hearted battle cry, Mari willed the broom to move in the direction of El. She soared through the sky like a great eagle, one hand tightly clenched on the broom and the other holding the broom. The wind whipped through her hair, blowing it in her face. She threw herself in front of El, whacking the ball away just as it nearly hit her.

More than a little bit proud of herself, Mari laughed. "Go find the snitch!" She called to the surprised girl. Maybe this isn't as bad as I thought.

The first points were scored by the opposing team, a loud cheer erupting amongst the players.

Mari frowned, as much as she hated the game; she had no desire to let her team down. She had already done that to enough people already. So, with several reassuring and deep breaths, Mari flew into the game.

***

The golden snitch had been caught, the game had ended.

El handed it in her hand proudly displaying. Their team was crowded around, giving high fives to each other or shaking hands if they were not use to the former custom. After pouting for a few minutes, the opposing team soon joined in, laughing and acting out some of their favorite parts of the game.

"Did you see when Mari saved my life?" El seemed to love every aspect of the game, and being the one to catch the snitch was no small task.

"I didn't really, I just it the bludger."

"No, I saw it!" Christopher put in. "It looked like you dove in front of her."

"Did you see how Valdris got the first shot?" Aimee spoke up. "She dodged at least three people before putting it in the goal!"

The excitable chatter continued for several minutes before someone shouted at the group.

"Mr. Goethe and Ms Itza are back!"

Mari turned to see a figure walking out of the jungle. She hurried forward with a few other students to greet the experts.

Little did she know that the grim expression on David's face was only the beginning of the terrible things the explorers would face in the Yucatan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aimée Bellamont

She sat, stiff and erect, hands curled around the smooth, polished handle of her broomstick in front of her. In the rough-and-tumble environment of the Quidditch match, suspended fifty feet high in the air, with the world a blaze of blue, brown and green around her, Aimée Bellamont was starting to regret signing up for the expedition in the first place. That mere thought, the mere notion of self-remorse for throwing away a chance to bring glory and honor to the Bellamont family name for her own selfish desires should've horrified the younger Bellamont sister to her very core. Yet, given the events that warped her mindset on that night, the girl found that she hardly cared about the rules that shaped her life, the things that she should or should not do, the lady she was supposed to be. Her golden hair should've been tightly tied in an elegant bun, her usual hairstyle for outside activity, but this time, she had let her hair down, letting the silky blonde waves cascade down her back and tangle in the wind. Her uniform was ruffled and there was a tiny tear on her sleeve from where a Bludger had crashed into her arm.

The rigorous Annette Bellamont – her mother – would say that the Quidditch field was no place for a "proper" young lady, and although Aimée did relish in the feeling of freedom from the restrictions that caged her in up in the heavens, she had to agree that she was entirely out of her element. She had been born and bred for dinner parties, quiet study sessions in the library, and a future of success. Not for a place where Chasers whizzed by, attempting to toss the tetrahedron-shaped Quaffle into the opponent's hoops, where Beaters slammed vicious Bludgers into the midst of unsuspecting members of the other team, where Keepers relied on their agility and swiftness to save a goal, and where Seekers searched the skies for any sign of the Golden Snitch.

So far, all she had done was hover shakily in the air, spending the first ten minutes of her time trying to control her Nimbus 2000. She'd barely had any experience with flying back at Beauxbatons – it was a course that she neither had any interest in nor was required by her parents, and as a result, even the most basic commands were difficult to her when she mounted. Being elected a Chaser, her inadequate performance proved a topic of laughter and mockery for several members of the other team, who had, admittedly, become quite aggressive and competitive as soon as they were given a broom. It was quite humiliating, and despite her team captain Elspeth's plea to at least try and score a goal, Aimée did not dare try and move, to make a fool of herself. Instead, she let her icy blue eyes rake over the field, watching her teammates zoom past. Adrienne, her sister, seemed to be having the time of her life, having already scored two goals and making use of her role as a Chaser. Watching the blonde get high-fived and patted on the back, showered with compliments and watched with envy from all, caused Aimée's stomach to bubble, curdling like sour milk. For some reason that she could not exactly figure out, her heart shriveled like dying plants at the sight of her sister beaming, laughing, grinning. Respected. Loved. Adored.

Being invisible was a new sensation to her, and Aimée Bellamont did not like it.

A hearty roar went up from the teachers watching in the stands and those in the opposing side, where a Chaser named Tamara managed to get a Quaffle past their own Keeper, a petite girl from Drumstrang called Sanna. She watched as Tamara elegantly glided back to her team, grinning wildly, for the score was now tied at 20-20. Her eyes followed the raven-haired girl as she took a position next to a Beater – and not just any Beater. A Beater with muscled shoulders and powerful arms, with cropped brunette hair and eyes of gemstone blue. A Beater by the name of Valdís Kvaran, whose irises met hers and stayed there for just long enough for her to flash Aimée a crooked grin, before moving on and focusing on the game. Their conversation that night was still extraordinarily vivid in her mind, with her own words stuck on replay, echoing in her ears.

"I think something's wrong with me, Valdís."

"I don't care anymore about the things I used to, and I don't know why."

Valdís Kvaran had stayed silent for what seemed like an eternity, letting her drown in her own mind, before turning to her and whispering, "Perhaps that's a good thing."

"Aimée! The Quaffle!"

Elspeth Ann Ladd's frantic voice snapped her out of her stupor, and she lifted her head to see the scarlet sphere falling gently, like a feather, directly in front of her face. Perhaps it was because of the sense of urgency from her teammates, or the initial shock and surprise about being called on to do something, but somehow, Aimée's arm developed a mind of its own and snatched the hollow ball, tucking it snuggly against her body. Suddenly, everything seemed to speed up, becoming clearer, and her brain began to churn with its old, fierce fire. Her heartbeat began to escalate as her body jerked to life, and before she knew it, the eighteen-year-old was flying – truly flying – towards the nearest hoop. One hand gripped the sphere tightly underneath her arm so hard that her knuckles turned an unsettling shade of milky-white, while the other steered. Vaguely, in the distance, over the howling of the wind in her ears, she could hear a mix of voices. There was Cerise Chevalier, commentating from the ground below. There was Adrienne Bellamont, cheering her own. And there was the Valdís Kvaran, whispering in her ears, "Perhaps that's a good thing."

The hoop was approaching, and she swerved sharply to the right to avoid an oncoming Bludger. The opposing team's Keeper, and Japanese boy by the name of Kazuhiko, attempted to block her path, but she was on fire. She was swift and fast and unbeatable and free. With a type of wild madness in her eyes, Aimée Bellamont brought her arm back, took aim, and threw.

The next thing she knew, Adrienne was screaming in one ear, Elspeth was repeating something that sounded like "Good job!" in the other, and it was her turn to be high-fived, to be patted on the back, to bathe in congratulations. It was almost as if she'd won the entire game, and not just scored ten points – but it did not matter. They were in the lead, and there was a newfound confidence blooming in her heart. She was no longer invisible, and as the crowd around her slowly dispersed to focus on the game once more, Aimée Bellamont could hear one voice, one sentence, echoing in her mind on repeat.

"Perhaps that's a good thing."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrienne Bellamont

Adrienne Bellamont had always loved the skies.

It was one of the few places where she could be away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, the demeaning glares from her parents, and the horrible feeling of guilt and anger whenever she did something wrong, or was not up to standard. While Aimée sought solitude in her dormitory or some secluded, shadowed spot in the Beauxbatons library, she would throw on a jacket, grab her Comet 260 – which, admittedly, was starting to slow and show signs of deterioration due to the fact that Adrienne had been using it for over a decade – and soar up into the clouds. She would go higher and higher and higher, hands clutched tightly around the rough, scratched wood, blonde hair fluttering in the wind. At around a hundred feet she would stop and just sit, hovering above the earth, and watch the world go by around her. Up in the skies, she would be free from all the burdens and worries holding her down. Up in the skies, there was no Aimée to beat, no parents to please, nothing she had to do. Up in the skies, it did not matter whether Adrienne Bellamont proved her worth or failed – for up in the skies, Adrienne Bellamont was truly free.

Quidditch, however, was a whole other story.

There was no relaxation involved in the popular sport – in fact, it was quite the opposite, requiring speed and agility, strength and skill. For her assigned position, a Beater, the latter was most important for her team's success. At first, when Faraji Wekesa had given her the wooden bat she now held in her hand and told her to mount her broom – a Nimbus 2000, quite an upgrade from her weathered Comet – she'd opened her mouth to protest, for in no way was she buff or muscular or strong enough to be a Beater. She was petite and lithe, built, strategically, for a Chaser or Keeper. Or perhaps even Seeker, although the dark-haired girl from Drumstrang claimed the spot for riding a Firebolt. After all, Aimée had been elected as a Chaser, even if she was on the opposing team. Why could she not be given the positon as Chaser as well? Still, what could she do? Arguing and speaking back to an elder was a major offense in the Bellamont family, and though she may have failed in finding Cerise Chevalier, she was not going to do something stupid that Aimée would undoubtedly report back to her parents, thus proving her mother and father right – that she was inferior and unworthy to be even called a Bellamont.

You failed once, Adrienne.

Do not fail again.

"Adrienne! The Bludger!"

Elspeth's voice cut through the air like a knife, shattering her thoughts, and she swiftly jerked her broom downwards just in time for a charcoal-black iron ball cannon past her head, so close that she could feel the wind whipping her hair. With her heart hammering in her chest, the girl pulled up, both ecstatic and terrified at such a close call, before re-arranging her bat and zooming straight after the bewitched ball. She was no expert at Quidditch, but she knew what she had to do – hit the Bludgers away from her teammates and, if she could, into the opposing team. And she was desperately needed, for one of the Chasers on her team, a sweet girl from Castelorbuxo by the name of Alejandra – whom Adrienne had taken a liking to ever since she complimented her hair – was being targeted by the iron ball. Leaning forward, she increased the speed of her broomstick, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she opened her mouth to cry out a warning, "Alejandra! Get out of the way!"

Thankfully, the seventeen-year-old pulled up sharply on her Moontrimmer, leaving the path clear for Adrienne to take aim and slam the Bludger, which seemed to be slowing after the swift departure of its intended target. All the better for me, she thought, and with gritted teeth and sweat pooling on her forehead, Adrienne Bellamont grabbed her bat in one hand, her broomstick on the other, took aim, and hit the iron ball with all of her might. Although her arm rattled, seemingly to the very bone, and a burst of pain travelled up her hand, she could not stop herself from letting out the tiniest squeal of excitement when the ball when corralling away, towards a group of Chaser from the opposing team. Her lips grew wide into a grin as Elspeth – a Beater on her team – zoomed past, offering her a quick smile. Even though no words were exchanged between the two girls, and they had not spoken to each other before, one smile was enough to cause Adrienne's heart to bloom with pride.

Perhaps I won't fail.

Perhaps I will prove myself.

Then, there came a scream.

Her head whipped immediately to the side at the familiar sound, for that scream was not just any scream – it was a scream torn from the lips of Aimée Bellamont herself. A quick glance was enough to tell her everything, but it was nothing that Adrienne wanted to hear. Her sister was leaning heavily on her Starsweeper XXI, jaw clenched in pain with blue eyes watering with tears. One hand gripped the handle of her broomstick so tightly that her knuckles turned white, the shade of her pale, porcelain cheeks, tainted with red. A teammate, a boy which Adrienne thought came from Castelobruxo, was supporting her as they both descended towards the ground. Yet, it was neither Aimée's pained expression nor the worry written all over the boy's face that horrified Adrienne the most, that caused her breathing to hitch or heartbeat to increase. No, it was the unnaturally twisted position of Aimée's left arm that sent shivers running down her spine, for she knew exactly what caused the injury. The iron Bludger had been hit away by another Beater, namely Valdís, who was also hurrying downwards. Yet, as the dark-haired, tattooed Drumstrang student passed her by, she turned and shot Adrienne a look. A familiar look that mirrored those of her parents, holding disappointment and anger and just plain disbelief at what Adrienne Bellamont had done, what Adrienne Bellamont had turned out to be.

I hurt my sister.

Perhaps her parents were right.

She was a failure. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tamara Anacourt

The warmth of the blazing sun in the sky soaked through the sweat and flesh as I found myself standing with what remained of us explorers at the valley where we arrived yesterday, our broomsticks firm in our right hands' grip. My hair was back in its usual braid, the stray wisps of hair clipped back from my face with bobby pins. Fourteen of us remained, and with every day that passed the number just seemed to dwindle. I never gave it much thought before, but having students leaving like this was rather unusual.

It already came as a weird occurrence when Ahri had failed to return to our Beauxbatons tent last night after we have located Madame Chevalier. Similarly, Aki had to return to the forest after her recovery because he claimed to have forgotten something there, but he didn't seem to make it out. Another two students were missing too—students who I didn't know very well. I bit my lip as I tried to figure out why that had to be so.

And now that Faraji told us—or rather, he told Aimée who in turn told me and Adrienne—to bring our broomsticks over to the valley, I couldn't help but wonder what they would be up to next. What part of our expedition involved our broomsticks? I hoped it would be an aerial tour of some archaeological sites. Anything, at least, to get my mind off of the dark magic lurking about this place.

"Alright everyone!" Madame Chevalier called for our attention, clapping her hands, and we turned to her obediently. "So today, we'll all be playing some Quidditch to pass the time. As you may have noticed, several of you have gone missing in the jungle..." She trailed off; clearly guilty and embarrassed from what happened last night. I couldn't blame her though. A glowing bunny wasn't typically something one would want to ignore, though I couldn't imagine how her freedom had to be at the price of four students' safety.

Thankfully for her, Faraji took over. "David and Gloria are currently in jungle as we speak. We do hope that they would be able to find your missing schoolmates. In the meanwhile, you guys can have some fun! Or shall we say...'mandatory fun'."

Faraji grinned as he looked at each of us, expecting all of us to share his excitement. All he got, however, was a half-hearted cheer from at least half of us, me not included.

"So now we have fourteen players. This should be enough for a seven-on-seven Quidditch game," Faraji continued. "Everyone split yourselves up however you wish, and once we determine the players and their positions, we would begin."

With that, everyone began running around, unintelligible chatters filling the air. I hung back amidst the commotion, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, slipping away into the shadows. I mean, I would have probably joined the Bellamont sisters since I really knew them the best out of everyone, but I after everything I've been through over the last few years I didn't want anyone to willingly cast me out if I ever showed my face in their group. Everyone had been doing that at school, anyway. And at the mention of Quidditch...I shook my head. I could fly pretty well, but I have never played before. Odds would be that I would screw up at the brink of the match.

"Hey, Tamara, why are you always hanging behind like this?"

"Huh?" I turned around to see a Mahoutokoro student—Kazuhiko, I think his name was—address me.

"Why do you keep slipping away like this? What if someone actually noticed you and wanted you on their team?" Kazuhiko continued, making me blink.

"People have always cast me out back in the past. Sometimes it's better if you're not called upon just to be made fun of," I told him with a mindless shrug. "Why?"

Kazuhiko gestured to his team. "We need one more member. Would you like to join us?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I'd probably screw up. Besides, I've never played before."

"You'll never know unless you try. And we won't make fun of you. Please?"

I took a look at the people on his team—Marielle from Hogwarts, Ailenia and Christopher from Castelobruxo, and Vendetta and Valdis from Durmstrang. Glancing over at the other team, I saw that they were already putting their heads together, determining who's playing what position. It seemed like this team was falling behind on that, and that would only happen if I accepted.

So I nodded. "Sure. I guess you'll need me, anyway."

Kazuhiko grinned and motioned me to follow him, which I did, over to the team.

"Alright," Christopher cheered, patting me on the back. "Welcome aboard."

"Merci," I said in relief, eyes widening as I realized that I just spewed out more French without warning. "Uh, I mean, thank you."

"So who's playing what?" Marielle finally asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet in slight agitation.

It took us a while, but eventually we got our strategy together. The fourteen of us then rose into the air on our brooms, and Madame Chevalier approached us with a box containing the different Quidditch balls onto the pitch.

"Alright. I expect to see some fair play from all of you," Madame Chevalier said, holding out Beater bats. I was quick to notice Christopher and Vendetta from our team, and Adrienne and Alejandra from the other team, grabbed a hold of one, rising back into the air. Then the Quaffle was thrown, the Snitch and Bludgers were released, and it was game on.

It took me a while to figure what I was supposed to do once the whistle was blown. The team had nominated me as their Seeker, and according to Marielle, the Seeker doesn't do much except locate the Snitch, a small golden ball suspended in the air by silver wings which flies at the speed of a hummingbird. Best be able to search for it as the match goes on. From below, I could hear Faraji give out some interesting commentary, his voice magnifying around the pitch.

"And there's Aimée Bellamont with the Quaffle now—ooh, looks like she just avoided a nasty hit from Vendetta on the other team—passes it on to Elspeth Ladds who—oh! Looks like Christopher's got her, so now Kazuhiko's got the Quaffle in possession, passes it to Valdis, who does a loop-de-loop over Adrienne—nice! And yes, she's nearing the goal, would she score—?"

A wild cheer went up on the other side as the Keeper, Markétá from Durmstrang, did a spectacular save by slapping the Quaffle back to the pitch with the tail of the broom. I inhaled sharply between gritted teeth; seemed like we better get our focus on track, and fast.

"Amazing save from Markétá! She passes it to Aimée, who passes it to Elspeth, and—oh! What a nasty hit from Vendetta; tough luck, Elspeth. Anyway, now Valdis has the Quaffle, passes it to Ailenia—and an interception from Sanna ended that run as she takes the Quaffle, oh look at her calmness as she—ouch!"

An ugly crack resounded in the air as Vendetta hit a Bludger, sending it straight to Sanna's forearm where it hit with a loud smack. Instantly, she dropped the Quaffle, and Kazuhiko zoomed forward to retrieve it, catching the ball with the tips of his fingers.

"And Kazuhiko is nearing the goal, can he get—YES! HE DID!"

Shouts of joy instantly rang through our team as Kazuhiko rose in the air, flushed at his success, before engaging himself back into the game, chasing other Chasers in an attempt to regain possession on the Quaffle.

As the match wore on, I was starting to grow tired of having to locate the Snitch. It was tedious work; either the Snitch moved too quickly, or I was moving too slowly, or I wasn't looking in all the right places. The list of reasons was endless. I let out a groan as I flew around on the pitch...and suddenly, I caught sight of something shimmering in the sky. No, it wasn't the Snitch. It was a light blue veil, exactly the same as the one I saw last night.

Instantly, I frowned. I still couldn't get over the mystery and figure out the connection between the village in my dream, and the veil suspended in the sky, and the fact that this village was once in this valley where we were now playing Quidditch. In fact, I couldn't shake it out of my head ever since I woke up this morning. I even drew out what I could remember in a sketchbook I brought with me, though the image seemed to be obscured by this very same veil every time I tried to conjure it in my mind. It was so clear and vivid before; now that it had gained this barrier, how much longer would it be before the vision of the village disappeared altogether?

"It looks like Kamaria has seen the Snitch!" Faraji shouted. "Yes, she's seen something Tamara definitely hasn't!"

Oh great! So much for me trying to work out this mystery at this time! Didn't Faraji even look at what I was looking at? If he did, he didn't seem to give any sign of acknowledgement. I dove towards the ground and caught up to Kamaria—probably nominated as the Seeker for the other team—whose hand was outstretched as she leaned forward just slightly on her broom, the Snitch just inches away from her fingers. Somehow, I managed to avoid being hit by a Bludger—clearly hit by Alejandra—and veered away from the Chasers as I caught up to her, my hand extended in front of me, my eyes now focusing on the Snitch zooming away, farther and farther from reach.

"They're here!"

Kamaria gasped, her broom veering away from the Snitch as our head expert, Gloria, called out to us in a loud voice. I took the opportunity to put forth a burst of speed and snatch the Snitch from the air, holding it between the empty chamber that my fingers formed, and turned to Gloria and Monsieur Goethe, who were just coming out of the jungle with the four missing students, not necessarily "safe and sound" but still okay to a degree.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed from fun to anxious as all the rest of the students descended towards the ground, swarming around the previously missing students like bees. I glanced down at the Snitch, its wings still beating against my fingers, trying to feel some sort of victory but instead sensing a flicker of dread from within. Glancing upwards at the veil once more which shimmered against the azure sky, I sighed heavily.

They promised that this game of Quidditch was supposed to be 'mandatory fun'.

Evidently, they had failed in that mission to make the fun last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valdis Kvaran

Below her, the spectators cheered. Above her, two Seekers searched the skies for the Golden Snitch. Behind her, one of the opposing team's Chasers, Tamara Anacourt, attempted to score a point, but missed the goal entirely. Never the one to keep her thoughts and opinions to herself, she rolled her eyes and snorted at the horribly failure, then turned to face the front. Before her, a Bludger was whizzing straight towards her face.

With a startled yelp, Valdís Kvaran jerked the handle of her Nimbus backwards, narrowing avoiding the 10-inch ball of iron, and swiftly changed course, heading back to one of her own team's goals. It was unattended, with the remaining Hogwarts student manning another hoop, but she didn't mind. It gave her more time to herself, and less time away from the yapping voices of her teammates who, frankly, sucked at Quidditch. Hogwarts girl followed the Quaffle around like a lost puppy, exhausting herself in the first few minutes of the game. The two other Chasers, other than herself – two Drumstrang students – kept missing the damn ball. Once, Sanna something-or-other had failed to see the Quaffle when it was falling right in front of her face. The two Beaters – Christopher and Ailenia from Castelobruxo – were the only ones doing adequate jobs of keeping the Bludgers from hitting their teammates, but nothing spectacular. Lastly, their Seeker, innocent-faced Marielle, was basically spinning circles, doing nothing but looking flustered and lost.

I'm starting to miss talking to Aimée.

She'd never thought that she'd hear herself say it – or rather, think it – but it was the undeniable truth. That night, in the forest, Valdís had been looking for something to pass the time, and what better amusement was there to poke fun and tease some unsuspecting French girl? Yet, before Adrienne had returned with a ragged-looking Cerise Chevalier by her side, Valdís had – dare she say – grown fond of the older Bellamont sibling. Their conversation had been...well, pleasant had been the best word, but somehow, 'pleasant' seemed too lacking, too vague and broad to describe what she'd felt that night. Then again, she countered, thinking hard. What exactly did I feel that night? However, just as quickly, the eighteen-year-old shook the thought away, rolling her shoulders backwards to loosen them up. It doesn't matter. I mean, sure, I had fun – but we're never going to see one another after this expedition, so whatever.

I still miss talking to Aimée though.

As she slowed to a stop, a thunderous roar arose from those watching below, which could only mean one thing – someone had scored a goal. Or caught the Snitch, but that was unlikely. After all, the game had only begun seven minutes ago. Balancing with one hand, she diverted her attention to the beaming face of Cerise Chevalier below, who served as commentator for this round of Quidditch. "And Chaser Adrienne Bellamont has just scored yet another goal for Team B! This brings Team B's score up to 30, a massive lead compared to Team A's zero!"

Team A and Team B. How creative. Valdís fought the urge to roll her eyes once more, instead turning to watch Team B bask in the glory of victory, and watch Adrienne be high-fived by the smiling girl from Castelobruxo – Was it Alexa? Alejandra? Oh yes, her name's Alejandra. Quite pretty, I've gotta admit – and patted on the back by the Chaser who'd previously missed, Tamara. Her blue eyes wandered past the other members of Team B, who looked equally as proud or as happy as bubbly Alejandra and grinning Tamara at being in the lead, until they stopped at the still, unmoving figure of Aimée Bellamont. Being elected as Chaser obviously did not suit her well. Although she kept a poker face, her discomfort at being so high off of the ground and playing Quidditch in general could be clearly seen due to her body movements. They were either erratic and turbulent as she struggled to maintain her balance on her broom, a Silver Arrow, or completely frozen, too terrified to move for fear that she would either fall off and make a fool of herself, or accidentally mess up, Valdís wasn't sure. Either way, it would turn out badly for the elegant, graceful, dignified golden student of Beauxbatons. She would never be able to live it down if anything bad occurred.

Poor Aimée. Wish I could go over and have a chat.

The thought of pity that crossed her mind was unexpected, but Valdís was not given time to process the thought. The game was back on, but the eighteen-year-old was not interested in the game, only the people. She watched Hogwarts-girl shoot Adrienne a polite smile before tossing the scarlet sphere back into the middle of the field, but she could see that her peachy-pink lips were pressed into a thin, straight line of frustration at yet another loss, before catching sight of Valdís hovering beside another hoop and sending her a glare. It was almost as if she were accusing Valdís of Adrienne's win, a silent message of, "Why aren't you out there, doing something?!"

Since flipping the bird was deemed socially unacceptable, especially at since she was the center of attention, Valdís instead ignored Hogwarts-girl completely, cool as a cucumber. She watched as petite-framed Sanna attempted to grasp the passing Quaffle, but missed – again – and sniggered as Vendetta became the next victim to be struck with a Bludger, the force of the blow almost enough to send the girl off of her broom. God, this is funny. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she watched dark-skinned Kamaria, a Chaser, letting out a shriek as another Bludger narrowly missed the tip of her broomstick, grabbing her bat and hurriedly whacking the ball away, looking like a penguin in the process. This is probably even better than annoying people, watching others make a fool of themselves. I wonder –

Her thoughts stopped there.

There was a flash of an ebony-colored ball, a muffled scream of terror, the cracking of wood or bone, and the flailing body of a certain golden-haired French girl falling helplessly to the ground.

Aimée.

She did not think. She did not tarry. She pointed her broomstick at Aimée Bellamont falling form as the other competitors stopped their game all around her. Then, there was wind blowing into her face and dust stinging her eyes, but she did not care. Someone else was screaming, but she did not care. Her Nimbus was fast, and her knees clipped tightly around her broomstick for balance as she stretched out her arms. Come on, come on. They were barely 10 feet from the ground. 7 feet. Come on, you can do this. 5 feet. 4 feet. 3 feet. Come on, Valdís, come on!

One hand wrapped around Aimée Bellamont's arm, and with all the strength in her body, Valdís Kvaran jerked the girl's body upwards, subsequently using the momentum to pull herself downwards. Goosebumps prickled her bare arms as Aimée let out a whimper of pain, but there was no time to be delicate – in a flourish, she had Aimée Bellamont resting in her arms, and her feet skimmed the grassy ground of the earth. With a grunt, she let the girl down gently on the damp soil, ignoring the fallen Nimbus. Blue eyes met blue as the world came back to life around her, with Adrienne nearly plowing onto the dirt in her desperation to get to her sister. Faraji and Cerise were running over. But there was only one thing that held Valdís Kvaran's attention, captivating her heart.

Aimée Bellamont's blue eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Markéta Cermak

DID NOT HAND IN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanna Lindström

When I was a child, I wanted to be a professional Quidditch player.

Before my mother told me that it was unbecoming of a young woman of my pedigree to dream of playing "a children's game" for a living, I would tell everyone I knew that one day, I would play for the American National Quidditch Team. I know, it sounds ridiculous. Can you imagine it? Sanna Lindström, a witch, a Durmstrang student, and a Swede, playing professional Quidditch in a foreign land? I promise, it isn't as crazy as it sounds. Yes, we Lindströms are the product of generations of proud Swedish blood. However, my father had roots in a different place.

He was an American man. When I was young, he would tell me stories about his home and his family and how he missed them so. His cautionary bedtime tales centered around how he wanted to see the world when he was young and how he left his small town to do so. Before I went to sleep, he would tell me about his travels and how he wished that his brothers had been with him. When he taught me how to fly a broomstick on my eighth birthday, he told me that we'd fly across the sea and visit his homeland someday, just he and I. Of course, it's been six years since he left, so I guess he couldn't wait.

The news that we would be playing a game of Quidditch has been the only good news I've received since I made my way to the Yucatan. Though we've only been here for a few days, they haven't exactly been riddled with the most pleasant of experiences. Between having my mind invaded and nearly losing Cerise and my new friends in the nightmarish rainforest, this trip has been nothing like I expected it would be. I expected challenging, I expected dangerous, but I did not expect to be so afraid of what has transpired so far. Needless to say, the idea of playing Quidditch perked me up a little.

When I eagerly volunteered to play in the first match, my fellow explorers seemed more than a little skeptical. I know that I do not look like the kind of girl who loves the thrill of playing Quidditch but I can't help but admit to being a little annoyed at their obvious lack of faith in me. I may look like a prima ballerina but I have always been one hell of a Beater. If my teammates were concerned about playing with me before, they were completely alarmed when I stubbornly picked up one of the bats instead of letting one of the boys try their hand at whacking a few Bludgers.

I could feel their doubt as soon as I did this. After all, seldom few people have looked at me and seen the strength that it takes to be a Beater. Seeker, maybe, when they look at my slender frame and observe my razor-sharp focus. Keeper, perhaps, if they think that my penchant for defensive magic translates to a talent for protecting my team's chances at winning. Both are good positions for someone like me. Both are positions that girls often fill in Quidditch (although they are not often girls who look and act me). When I was first learning the game, Oscar told me that only boys could be Beaters.

Not for the first time in the last few weeks, I was acting with the intent to prove somebody wrong. When I took the red bandana and stood by my teammates, the majority of whom were French girls who seemed less than enthusiastic to join in this round of "mandatory fun" with the rest of us, I was doing so to show that I was not wrong to pick up the Beater's bat. I have never admitted to being a proud person but I'm sure that it shows in times like this. I suppose that it's in my blood to be proud. The same way it's in my blood to play Quidditch, to be a Beater like my father.

There is something about the thrill of riding a broomstick that never gets old. My broom, the Starsweeper that carried my father across the globe in his younger years, has never disappointed me when it came to the joy of flight. When I was a child, when I didn't care about what my family thought of me, I would spend my time training myself to soar through the sky like a bird. When Mari and I first met, she confessed to me that she was always afraid to leave the safety of the ground. My roommate and many other people fear the danger of flight but that is part of the excitement, part of the thrill. When I took to the sky for our impromptu Quidditch match, I felt truly alive for the first time since I left Durmstrang.

I did not expect the Beauxbatons girls to be as aggressive as they were. I suppose I underestimated them as much as they underestimated me. While I hovered close to our small, Hogwarts trained Seeker, protecting her from the Bludgers being aggressively hit at her by the slightly threatening boy from Brazil, my French teammates darted around our opponents and passed the Quaffle amongst themselves with a elegant sort of grace and fluidity. I have played this game many times but I have never seen such poise in a trio of Chasers. These girls are not bad at Quidditch, I will say that much. Clearly, they are not bad at anything.

A group of pretty teenage girls and one reluctant male Beater (my new friend, Kazuhiko, who I secretly think was only handed a bat because of the idea that this position is one that should be filled by a man) should not be a very intimidating Quidditch team to face. Our opponents clearly believed this to be true even when watching the Bellamont sisters toss the Quaffle deftly past my classmate Vendetta, who served as their Keeper. We were clearly capable of victory and yet, after looking at us and judging us from our "delicate" and "girly" appearances, they believed that we could not win.

I suppose that we proved them wrong when I nearly broke Aki's arm. In truth, I did not intend to hit the Bludger as hard as I did and I was aiming for her broom, but I managed to send it hurtling into the left arm of the other team's Seeker as he reached for the Golden Snitch. It was nearly within his grasp, his fingers were almost wrapped around it. That is, until I swung my bat and ended his team's chances at winning. It was easy for our Seeker to swoop in and snatch the Snitch and our victory in a few swift moves. They underestimated us but really, they didn't even stand a chance.

It felt good to win. It felt good to prove myself in front of my teammates, it felt good to share in a simple victory after a few days of clear defeat in the Yucatan. While this is not what I came here to do and I know that it was only a distraction while our leaders tried to regroup from the chaos that happened last night, it still feels amazing to do something right for the first time since I've arrived. I know it sounds ridiculous for something as simple as a game of Quidditch to make me feel like I belong on this expedition but if I can come close to succeeding in one dream, if I can prove myself in something that I've always loved, I can do this. I know that I can do this. I just needed to feel like I could win, I needed a victory to keep me going.

Tomorrow we continue with our journey. I am ready for whatever may come.

-Sanna

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vendetta Moroz

Vendetta Moroz was not the biggest fan of Quidditch.

From her place on the outskirts of the makeshift court, the girl could see only the idiocy of the sport as each of the balls in play were brought in one last time after testing. Who could possibly be so stupid as to fly amongst those spiked Bludgers, more dangerous than any monster the witches and wizards would have faced in the jungle? Vendetta shook her head somberly, casting her eyes down in disappoint at the choices the professors had made. She would have been such a valuable asset had she been allowed to accompany those searching for the lost students- though it still wasn't entirely clear to her why they hadn't yet given up on bringing back children who made decisions as poor as the ones they had. Surely it was better to leave them to fend for themselves, learn from their choices.

But her pleas to join the search party had been dismissed with the flick of a hand, some excuse or another regarding the number of players on each team. Begrudgingly, Vendetta had joined the ranks of a mostly European crew in the hopes that language would not isolate her from those she had bonded with. Sure, English was almost universal, but she didn't want to run the risk of having to communicate with students from Mahoutokoro, having absolutely no knowledge of the Japanese language.

The broom in her hand was light and airy, yet strong- Vendetta could not deny that it was a rather decent flier. Considering the circumstances, she was surprised the professors had been able to produce one for each student. Casting her gaze to the left and right, the girl studied her teammates once more, noticing determination set on each of their faces. She had definitely chosen the side of the victors- pure mindset alone was almost all that was needed in the game. The players innocently stared daggers at the opposition, friendships turned upside down in the spirit of competition. Even Vendetta was beginning to feel the tension in the air build up an urge inside of her to crush their adversaries, even if her energy would have been better directed towards important things.

Each of the players had been assigned positions beneficial to them, she knew- the team had been smart, asking who had played what in previous matches, skill level, and so on. Vendetta, unfortunately, had to admit to playing the sport very little in her life. Therefore, her fellow Chasers would be mostly responsible for handling the Quaffle. A tiny flame had ignited in the girl's mind as they shared the spotlight, pushing her out of the way into the darkness. Vendetta was not used to the dark; she was desperate to escape the blackness that surrounded her, emerging from the shadows of the better into the light of the best.

Perhaps sports were her next challenge to conquer. She'd never been much of an athlete, and it would be another opportunity to prove how fantastic she was. The human mind had grown too boring, dreadfully easy to decipher- what had once been an enigma had been translated into simple print Vendetta could identify on the spot. Athleticism, however, would be new frontier, a land she had not explored yet. It was hers for the taking; nothing could stop her from embarking on a new quest.

But even that would grow to hold no entertainment in time. She was a girl who constantly needed a challenge, something new to spruce up her rather insipid life. The question always lingered in the back of her mind, though- what would happen when the challenges ran out? How would she cope when she knew all that existed in the world, for surely her pursuit of knowledge would never cease? Or perhaps her mind would become too burdened with all that she tried to shove into it, and would spit out skills she had developed to perfection over time. Both scenarios were equally traumatizing to think about.

The time had come for the match to commence, and Vendetta followed lead as each of her teams kicked off into the air, excitedly springing into position. They were plants at the dawn of the warm season, shooting out of the ground to bask in the sunlight, bathe in the rich, pure rainwater that came with the refreshing storms. The girl only hoped they had not left the safety of the underground too early, let their confidence in the warmth take over when a frost would really come back to bite them.

Shrill whistle sounded throughout the Quidditch pitch, created by one of the professors, and the game was on as each ball came into play at the same time. The seekers simultaneously charged in one direction, following the path of the coveted Golden Snitch. Significantly larger and wingless, the Quaffle was tossed into the air, suspended freely for a fraction of a second, untouched by gravity. As it began a dramatic descent, rotating ever so slowly as it barrelled toward the ground, someone suddenly swooped in, catching the Quaffle in their outstretched hands. A brief moment of calculation occurred, and Vendetta came to the conclusion the player was one on her team- a decent start to a game the girl knew would turn out better than she had initially anticipated.

Strategy- it had been discussed only briefly due to the buzz of anticipation, and each of the players had been more than ready to take their places by the time each had been interrogated about their skill levels. Basic rules had been skimmed over, the professors assuming it was well known how to play the most common sport in the wizarding world. Vendetta had picked up the general concepts- throw the Quaffle into the ring, a point is scored. Urging her broom forwards, she whizzed in the direction of the enemy's goal, wind whipping violently as her pace increased. The girl's hair tumbled from its elaborate bun positioned neatly on the top of her head, elastic plunging to the ground seemingly miles below the game. Walnut locks rippled like waves in the sea, currents delving this way and that, a seemingly random, yet calculated pattern. Vendetta was the same.

Soon, it was just her and the broom. No longer did the silly game concern her, the urge to triumph over everyone she possibly could, send the inferior to their rightful place at her feet. For a moment, she simply appreciated the simplicity of it all- the lack of challenge, and the easy road it took her down. So many times Vendetta had been met with crossroads, and had always taken the darker route, the rarer route, the one she knew all struggled to traverse. The alternative had always been pushed aside, too easy to take- she had to conquer the harder road, prove that she could take it over and over again. The girl had never quite realized the other was a happy road; for once in her life, she had chosen the path through the forest where peaceful wildlife roamed, and the path was clear of roots and vines, easy to walk on. The sunlight was visible through the canopy of vibrant green leaves, and chirping of harmless birds welcomed those who walked there. The road so unfamiliar, yet breathtakingly beautiful.

But the bird calls were really the shouts of her teammate, and as Vendetta swirled around to face the beater with cerulean eyes, she saw not the fearful expression with the gaping mouth, oxygen inhaled in a terrified gasp, but the black iron of a bludger hurtling towards her face.

And for once, Vendetta Moroz could not think fast enough.