It felt like ages since Beth had last had time to wander up to Hogsmeade, she’d been so busy over the past few months, unpacking the final boxes in her flat, practicing with the Cannons and plenty of other things that had taken up the majority of her time. Living alone had fast lost its novel appeal and Diagon Alley was becoming even tamer by the day. She needed a trip out, a quick change of scenery, even if it was somewhere that she had visited countless times before, it would provide a welcome break, a change of scenery that she so desperately needed. It wasn’t like she had much else to do anyway, it wasn’t like she had work to do or practices to attend. And that was why Beth had found herself in Hogsmeade, but after traipsing round a few shops the novelty of that was starting to wear off too. Briefly, she had toyed with the idea of going to explore muggle London, but she wasn’t sure that she’d want to explore the huge muggle world on her own, it had been ages since she’d used muggle money and she was certain she’d mess it up.

Beth was quickly getting bored and started to wander aimlessly up and down the high street, messing with her hat[1] as she walked, taking it on and off and messing with the ribbon around it. It was getting to the point where Beth was seriously considering going home, but she didn’t really want to sit around at home either, she’d only sit in doing nothing if she did that. However, her next move probably wasn’t the most mature, but in an attempt to stave off going home for a little bit longer, she decided to go with it. Beth snuck round a corner and hid behind a low wall, ready to jump out at her first unsuspecting victim. No, Beth hadn’t done something this immature in a long time, well, at least not since leaving Hogwarts anyway.

1.	Beth's clothing can be seen here.

It had been an interesting offseason for Ian Cuddyer. Though he was privy to what went on in his family's business affairs, he was often just as surprised as the general public when his grandfather, uncle and even his mother dropped news about a deal or investment here and there. One thing he had learned early on in his career was that the Hanovers loved a good intrigue. And all the better if they were the ones helping to create it.

Ian hardly begrudged his grandfather and uncle for tossing their hats into the British and Irish League investment market. Anything that was good for the game was good in his eyes. But he did have qualms about them trying to manipulate his own career.

Ian vividly remembered back to the initial conversations he had had with his grandfather about acquiring the Chudley Cannons. The elder Hanover had jokingly dangled the idea of Ian playing for the team, something that Ian had quickly shot down. Ian knew that even in jest, anything his grandfather said had some amount of seriousness in it. It was just too bad that no amount of money from his grandfather's billions could ever be enticing enough.

Ian wa stubborn about keeping his career separate from the rest of his family and aside from his access to the game from an early age as well as expert instruction from all of his family members who played, he had tried to build up his own credibility, his own wealth and his own fame in the eyes of his fans. He never said as much outright, but his desire for autonomy from the Hanover name was part of the reason he had chosen to play in Canada early on in his career.

Still, he wished his family well in their endeavors and he certainly wished that they would be able to pull the Cannons out of years of losing.

On this particular day, Ian had slipped into his typical incognito get-up - his crummiest jeans and an oversized sweatshirt with a hoodie that did well to cover his recognizable mop of curly locks and shield his face - and headed to Hogsmeade. He was hoping to secure some new quidditch supplies or just do something normal like shop without the bombardment of fan appreciation. He was hoping for at least an hour's worth of uninterrupted adventure.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he made his way in the direction of the Quidditch supply store, eyes darting cautiously back and forth to survey his surroundings and half expecting to be bum rushed at any minute by a slew of fans.

OOC: If you need some dialogue, let me know!