11 March 2013
Thursday @ 6pm

"...and Minister Zephyr have come to an agreeme-..."

"...our guest tonight is Maya Irene-Strangely who..."

"...a deluge of dragon dung has..."

Figaro Sellaphix was hunched over the old wireless which appeared to have lived in the Hufflepuff Commonroom since founding.  He tuned the dials in search of tonight's Quidditch match, having to turn through news, talk radio, and children's programmes.  He was vexed that his housemates would have any reason to change it off Quidditch and that every time there was a match he'd have to scramble to find the proper channel.

"...to the match-up between Falmouth and Kenmare! I'm Rosha Spellscough[1] coming to you live from Kenmare in Ireland at beautiful Kelligan Pitch! The referee tonight is Samir Banda, and boyoboy have we got a match for you tonight!  Kenmare is leading the league with 860 points but Falmouth is not far behind with 780.  This match will decide who enters the quarter-final round of pre-semi-final qualifiers for the cup!..."

There it was!  As the match began on the Wireless, Figaro slid over the biggest, comfiest chair in the Commonroom and draped himself in it, snacks and magazines in hand.  He has a full tub of cottage cheese (his favorite food), a pack of fizzing whizbees, and his illicit and nasty habit a little pouch of billywig stings.

He was settled in and ready to hear out the Falcons.  Quidditch matches could last all night and he was ready for the long haul if he had to.

"...and today's match is brought to you by the Nimbus Racing Broom Company, the choice of the league's leading professional Quidditch teams.  Aaand...here come the Falcons!..."

The sound from the Wireless faded from Spellscough's voice to the roar of the crowd.  Figaro raised his fist in the air as the announcer named the starting roster for the Falcons and he clapped loudly as she named his favorite player, Dominik Wiedman, the ex-con Falcons Beater. 

It was about then that he heard the commonroom door open behind him and he shouted at whoever it was, without turning to look who.  "Quidditch tonight and I'm not changing it!"  He was used to a bit of resistance when he hogged the Wireless all night.

1.	Pronounced Spells-Ko

"I wasn't going to ask you too." Came a soft voice to Figaro's left. A chair was pulled up next to his and a dainty-figured person climbed into it, tucking her feet under herself. Belle gave Figaro a shy smile and curled up in the chair, turning her attention to the Wireless.

Belle had spoken to Figaro a few times in the years she'd known him, but their words were never much except for hellos and how-are-you's. She was a notably shy person, rarely one to strike up an conversation, especially with Figaro, who was a skilled conversationalist.

"Maybe with two of us listening, everyone will be less tempted to turn it off." She shrugged. Belle had always liked listening to Quidditch. She found it interesting and entertaining, and looked forward to whenever Figaro would snatch the Wireless. She wasn't out-going enough to take it herself. She was always a little disappointed when someone turned off the Wireless, therefore muting the game she and Figaro both seemed to like.

Belle Hatter!  Figaro didn't attempt to hide his surprise when she pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.  The Mouse of Hufflepuff House. 

"Can't argue with that logic," he said with an accommodating shrug.  It probably would be easier to fend off the non-fans if he could show that there was a minor majority in favor of Quidditch.  Clever.  The announcer was still on the pre-game announcements and stats in the minutes before the match actually started. 

He indicated with his foot that she was welcome to help herself to some of the junk food he'd set on the rug in front of his chair.  "There's crisps in there, and whistle whips," he said.

Fig was a friendly sort, and he'd never had reason to quarrel with Belle.  But he also didn't know very much about her, just that she didn't seem to get on anyone's bad side and was pretty.  It didn't really occur to him what was in it for her when she sat down.  Was she going to get out a book?

"This might get loud," he warned.  "Falcons are on."

And as if on cue, the match began!

"...And there goes the snitch!  The Bludgers are free now, and there! The quaffle's in play.  And Falcons take early possession but Kenmare's been faster to the bludgers - ooh! They're going directly to Falcon Beater Wiedman!..."

"BOLLOCKS!" Figaro shouted and jumped out of his chair, kicking over a bottle of soda.  His hands on his head, he shouted at the Wireless.  "They're just afraid - they'd better take him out early or they're in for it.  You don't mess with Dominik."

He fell back into the chair as coverage continued.

Belle had jumped as well, but in fear, not excited outrage. She had always been too skittish for her own good. Life as a first year had been hell, not knowing what to expect. She shot a foot off the floor every time something scared her.

Belle had gotten better at recovering faster, and did so quickly. She peeled off her sweater and left her chair to clean up the spilled soda with it. Being a muggle-born, the Hufflepuff girl sometimes forgot that she could do magic, and did a lot of things by hand, often unnecessarily.

While she started cleaning Figaro's mess, she seemed to find her tongue, "No, you don't mess with Dominik.. He plays dirty.." She whispered softly, her voice the same timid tone it almost always was. "He's very violent.." Belle glanced at him, but her brown eyes quickly found her task again.

"You don't have to do-"  he began as she knelt down to mop up the spilled drink.  But he stopped himself.

"What did you say?"  He peered at her curiously, like a puppy who thought he heard the word 'walk'.  He was grinning slightly.

"Did you just say something Wiedman?  Do you know Quidditch?"  His questions revealed an eagerness for the answer to be yes, but profound surprise if it were true!  Of course, he knew loads of girls who liked Quidditch.  Hell, more than half of the players at school were girls.  But he didn't know Belle was a Quidditch supporter.

He stared at her waiting for an answer as the Quidditch announcer continued the play by play.

"...has recovered the Quaffle and are moving up the pitch in a diamond formation, lead by a beater.  A typical Kenmare move, but it does leave their hoops under defended.  They're looking for an early lead against the Bludger-heavy Falcons..."

She froze, her eyes flickering to his and then away quite quickly. Belle cleared her throat and flushed dark pink, suddenly embarrassed at having her secret found out.

"I um.. Well a little. But it's hard to really know about a game when you don't get to listen to any outside of school.." She whispered, keeping her gaze locked on the spilled soda. She'd gotten it off of the floor , but her sweater was soaked.

Belle tossed it over the arm of her chair, silently telling herself to clean it later. She climbed back into the chair and curled up, as if hoping to make herself small enough so that Figaro would forget she was there. She spoke again though, so the effect was kind of ruined.

"Everyone knows that Dominick is, kind of a frightening person. He's ruthless on the Quidditch pitch.." Her eyes were on the Wireless as she spoke. She absolutely refused to make eye contact, "Kenmare shouldn't leave their hoops so vulnerable, even if their Catcher is good, they're not perfect.."

Figaro wasn't sharp enough to see that Belle's body language was one of someone who didn't want to be the center of attention; he was just staring straight at her.  He sat sideways in his chair so he could face her head on.  And there!  She just did it again! 

It was like a surprise pressie at Christmas!  Figaro clapped his hands and nearly shouted, "Oh ho ho my GOD, Belle Hatter, where the hell have you been all my life!" 

A bit of an over-reaction maybe.  We have observed that Girls Liking Quidditch is no special thing.  But Belle Liking Quidditch? It came like a bludger from out of the blue! He'd nearly lost interest in the match itself, at least for the moment.  He was just so surprised that quiet, mousy, secretive Belle Hatter was a fan.

"Waitwaitwait," he said rapidly.  "Who's your team? Not Kenmare.  Tell me, not Kenmare!"



(Please do feel free to write in the Quidditch match, if you like!)

Belle's face flushed and she looked away from him, down at her hands folded in her lap, "I um.."

She scooted back a bit, but she was already far enough in her chair to where it wouldn't let her get any farther away. She reached up and began playing with a lock of brown curls, absentmindedly of course. Belle never did realize when she was doing it, but to others it was obviously a nervous habit. "I don't really have a team. I don't get to listen to Quidditch a lot. The only team I can ever really root for is our Hufflepuff team.." She whispered.

These were probably the most words Figaro had ever heard Belle say. She gave him a timid smile and a small shrug of her frail shoulders, "Sorry.. I'm not very informed when it comes to Quidditch, it's hard to be for me."

Well this was confusing.  As the match went on in the background, Figaro wanted to figure out what was going on with Belle. She didn't seem like being a Quidditch fan brought her much joy.

"What are you talking about? Don't you read the Prophet? You don't have a favorite pro team?"

He didn't get how someone could like Quidditch but a) not play and b) not have a favorite team or listen to matches.  It's not that he didn't believe her, he just didn't get it.

The Hufflepuff Mouse shrugged her thin shoulder, "No. I don't like to read the Prophet, so I don't get it. I don't have a favorite Quidditch team."

She gave a nervous smile, "I just like to listen when you turn on the radio. And I like to watch the school games." She whispered, "I'm strange, I know.. Sorry.." Belle's smile was shy and half-hearted. She just eyed the Wireless so she wouldn't have to look at the confusion on Figaro's face.

"Yea, you are," he agreed about her being strange, but there wasn't a trace of malice in his voice as he readjusted himself in his chair. The match played on in the background, over their thoughts and small conversation.  The Falcons were gaining a quick lead, their Beaters dismantling the other team's defense. 

"So why don't you join the team?" he asked casually after a bit.  He had opened another soda and was munching on some long candy ropes that seemed to wiggle each time he bit off a length.

"Can you play?"

"Play Quidditch? I.. I don't think so.."' She whispered, blushing and looking at him, "I'm not the best candidate for flying around the pitch."

Belle shrugged and smiled, "I mean, can you really see me on a broomstick?"

Figaro grinned.  He could imagine her playing.  Maybe she didn't see it, but she actually seemed like the Quidditch type when he got to talking with her.

He opened his mouth to say something, but a bit of the match got through to him from the background.

"Looks like Banda is going to throw Wiedman out for that flagrant blagging violation."

"Oi, come on!" Figaro shouted at the Wireless.  "Boo! They can't kick him off!  Whinging babies! It's Quidditch not a snuggle fest!" 

He was smiling though.  He rather liked shouting.  "I think you should play.  Talk to Angie.  I mean, who cares if you suck.  You've seen us play.  We're not pros but we have a bloody good time.  What are you worried about?"

"Honestly? I'm a wimp. I'm way too jumpy for Quidditch." She admitted.

"I wouldn't last two minutes on the Pitch. And if I did manage to last longer, it's likely I'd come off of the Pitch on a stretcher."

"Well, you seem like you won't be convinced," Figaro had to concede as he rested his ankle on his opposite knee.  Some people just didn't enjoy, you know, fun things.

"It's a shame, really.  BOLLOCKS!"

Figaro reacted again to the call.

"And that's ten points against the Falcons.  With a second string Beater on the pitch, Falmouth lost its rhythm and let a Chaser through.  That's going to sting."