Sioni did not think of himself as a fighter so much as a tryer. He was 100% Hufflepuff, after all. But this morning he was … well, fair play, not exactly angry, but more determined to win that usual. It was not that there was the chance that scouts from some of the professional teams were going to be at the match. It was not that he was playing against Petey Watkins. It was not that he felt like he was holding his team together by pure strength of will.

It wasn’t even that he was playing against Caitlin.

Though maybe that mattered a little as he was getting dressed.

No, Sioni realized as he was working his way down to the pitch, chatting with an over excited Skrumpkin, he wanted to win this match more than any other because he was just tired of loosing. Today he wouldn’t be playing against Caitlin or Petey or any of the Gryffindors. Today he was playing against himself. And he was going to beat every negative thought, every angry mood, every scowl, every grumble, every ink-blot every tear he had ever had to put up with.

He caught the fact that Skrumph was telling him (Not for the first time) that he’d actually done fifty sit-ups the day before, and that he (Skrumpkin) was feeling fighting fit, and smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Sioni said. “You’ll do fine. I think those drills we did with Lindsay and the cricket balls are going to pay off. Just pretend you are catching cricket balls. The Quaffle will look big and slow and easy, like. Don’t worry. Play your best. We’ll win.”

They walked along in silence for a minute, as figures loomed up and disappeared in the fog. Sioni smiled at the feel of the broomstick resting on his shoulder and the soft sound of his bats knocking together in his book bag.

“I think, today, I’ll go for broke,” He said, more to himself than to his teammate. “I’ll use the ironwood with the brass banding. It’s bound to be a long match with this fog, and I don’t know if I want to be swinging a heavy bat all day long. Fair play, if Shanty-town is in good form, she could win this in five minutes, but I’ll risk that, like.” Though really, he’d like a longer match. Not so much to get the score high, but just so he could keep playing longer. Up in the air, things were simple. Up in the air, you knew where you were. Up pin the air, you had a chance of winning, and the better you played, the better you did.

Not like down on the ground.



Not Getting Any Younger