Sebastian picked up a broom from the pile and examined it with bleary-eyed skepticism. The tattered old thing in his hand made the first-generation Cleansweeps look like Firebolts.  Given the history and repute of this festival, one would think the organizers should be able to afford better. Sebastian chucked the broom and rummaged through the heap for a better one.

Ah.

His eyes widened as they glided over the engraved mahogany handle of a 1940 Tinderblast. Granted, it was still antique by all means compared to his Nimbus 3500, but nonetheless it was the kind of antique that most Quidditch collectors would give an arm and leg for. He eagerly plucked it from the pile and held it before his eyes to examine it better. Merlin’s balls, if this was a dream, he hoped he would never wake up.

Holding it closely by his side, Sebastian walked back to the setup station with a happy grin. It was every boy’s dream to joust on an antique Tinderblast and his would be coming true shortly today. Technically, he really should be helping out with the joust and not partaking in it, but being one of those hot-headed young men who had a fondness for causing mayhem and pain, Sebastian would not be content as a bystander behind the sideline.

Judging by the long dusty track spanning at least two hundred meters across the field and the wooden stands emblazoned with white and gold flags, the organizers must’ve been dead-serious about authenticating the experience. If the knights of the old jousted in such a manner and wore so and such, this was how the event would proceed today. Sebastian took a suit of armour off the wall and shrugged it on. Whatever misgivings he had about the smell of his helm, he kept to himself. If death had a scent, this would be it. He hoped no one had died in this.

In good humour and high spirits, he mounted his broom and flew over the arena. A small crowd of people had already gathered on the stands, eager to be entertained. He raised his lance to command their attention and motioned for them to sit down and let him speak.

“Good Sirs and Madams!”  He bellowed, “We gather here today to celebrate the founding of Hogsmeade!" The audience applauded loudly. "And what better way is there to celebrate than to hold a joust?” Hearing no objections among the defeaning chears, Sebastian grinned and continued, “MY LORDS AND LADIES, who cometh forth to joust with me?”

Jousting. It was hokey. It was probably for kids. But Colette couldn't help yearning for the feeling again. The wind against her face, the feeling of wood cracking against wood, of throwing elbows and coming up victorious, grinning. . .  Sure, she'd flown quite a bit since her Hogwarts days, but not in a cheering stadium, never competitively. Always for leisure.

God, Colette hated "leisure."

Woodcroft today had been pleasant, but slow. Having come with Kia and Maggie, Colette had tried not to pick the jousting event first. That would be self-serving; she knew they weren't as in to it as she was. So they'd walked around, reminisced, eaten treats, gone to the Shrieking Shack -- Colette was not the least bit frightened, of course. She'd only screamed twice because Maggie and Kia had and it seemed the appropriate response. That she had threatened to hex the workers with the chainsaw at the Shack for frightening her "to bits" was irrelevant.

Now, walking by the jousting arena, hearing the bellowed challenge, she looked to them with a grin on her face.  "I think I want to. . ." Her face grew slightly apprehensive as she added, "You know. If you guys want. . ."

Perhaps, however, they'd want to go. Someone else probably had the first spot in line and they were, at some point, supposed to rendez-vous with Niobe Thursby, after all. Perhaps they should do that. . .

But, that boy looked at least three years younger than her and she could just tell he tended to favour the right side. . .

Outfit

It was odd being out with friends and actually having a fun time, especially at something as childish as a festival. Kia was an incurable homebody and she knew it. Until she had moved in with Maggie and Colette, she had only really left the house to go to work or her fathers clinic. Now that she was working at her fathers clinic, her choices for entertainment were even more limited. But the move had done her good. She had already started jogging in the morning, had an actual date out with none other then Finn Grosvenor, and now she was touring haunted houses, eating chocolate frogs and heading towards a joust of all things with her two friends in tow. Well, actually, with girls like Maggie and Colette, She was the one in tow.

"I think I want to. . .You know. If you guys want. . ."

Kia had only lived with the girl for a couple months, but she could already read Colette. She wanted to go. She HAD to go. You could see it in her eyes that she really really wanted to get on a rickety broom and send the poor kid at the other end, who had to be at least 3 years her junior, home with bruises on his body and ego. Kia couldn't help the slight smile that formed at the corner of her mouth. Colette's enthusiasm reminded her of her brother and she couldn't help but shrug and say, "Why not... But I'm not jousting... You can have fun getting blisters, bruises and splinters... I will watch..." She smiled at Colette before turning to Maggie, eager to see if she would join her on the stands or embarrass herself like their friend.

Maggie was still snickering about the way Colette had yelled at the wannabe cast of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre back in the Haunted House. She glanced over at Kia and grinned, as if to say serves her right, the ‘fearless’ Gryffindor. They weren’t Hogwarts students anymore, of course, but Maggie still had her house loyalties.

When they walked closer to the broom jousting tournament, Maggie stared straight ahead, ignoring the cheering crowd and enthusiastic announcer. She was heading straight for the Three Broomsticks, hoping to convince Kia and Colette to relax and have a butterbeer with her. Alas, Colette turned around with an excited grin, causing the girls to stop in their tracks. Maggie groaned.

"I think I want to. . ." Her face grew slightly apprehensive as she added, "You know. If you guys want. . ."

“Use your sentences,” Maggie teased, looking over the arena reluctantly. She hadn’t played Quidditch in ages. Her flying skills were mediocre and she didn’t have the best aim. The one thing she could do was hit a bludger over to the other side of the stadium (or the stands. Complete accident, of course). Her eyes narrowed and she wondered how she’d do in a game like this.

However, she shrugged, pretending not to care. “I guess I’ll stick around and watch. Are you sure you can handle ye announcer of olde?” Maggie nudged Colette’s arm and smirked at Kia, who had said she would watch, too.

“Good luck! Don’t die!” She grinned over her shoulder, heading over to the stands. Halfway to her seat she paused, something nagging at her. If Colette won…

Maggie grabbed Kia’s arm. “If she wins, she’s going to be insufferable!” The bragging. The gloating. The prancing around the apartment. Maggie wouldn’t be able to take it. She adored Colette, but she couldn’t possibly let her do this without any competition.

And who would be her competition? Certainly not that fresh-faced Hogwarts kid!

Scowling, Maggie turned suddenly and jogged after Colette, able to pick her out from the crowd. When she reached her she touched her shoulder and heaved a sigh.

“Okay, I changed my mind. Don’t say a word!” Maggie wagged her finger at her warningly. She knew she’d get teased later, but she stood on her tiptoes and gave Kia a sheepish wave.