Mordecai eyed the handful of students who had gathered on the Pitch. There were a number of players missing but so far the ones that had answered his call seemed to be a mixed yet dedicated bunch made up of students from every year and walk of life. Well, this should be an interesting learning experience.
Standing on the uppermost bench in the stadium, unseen by the teenagers milling around near one of the outposts, Mordecai chuckled quietly to himself as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small round object that looked like it had survived through some sort of war. It was a battered old Golden Snitch, Mordecai's Lucky Charm that had been with him for more than twenty years and saw him through thick and thin. Maybe it would bring him some luck today of all days.
"You know what to do." He grinned as he held his palm flat and let the Snitch go about its business. The moment the Snitch felt the wind against it two silver wings began to hum in anticipation. A second later it was off like a twinkling blur, racing across the full length of the arena at top speed. Mordecai's eyesight wasn't as sharp as it used to be and he lost track of where the Snitch had gone but he knew it wouldn't leave the Pitch. That little walnut sized wonder had a reliable habit of always coming back to him one way or another. And today was no expectation.
Except the Snitch was just as interested in the Hogwarts students as Mordecai was. Like a tiny rocket the golden ball zoomed through one of the goal posts before it made a beeline for the cluster of Quidditch players on the ground. It narrowly avoided colliding into Ne'os Emof's forehead before it switched directions and circled around Keith, zooming in for a closer look before winging its way toward another student. It hovered like a golden hummingbird above their heads, darting this way and that as if to take a head count before it reversed its direction and sped off.
"Interesting thing, the Snitch. I swear that they have a mind of their own, magic or not." Mordecai called out as he calmly soared into view using nothing but the pressure of his legs to guide his broomstick downward. He tossed a red leather Quaffle from one hand to the next, his eyes never leaving the group below him. He didn't bother to grip the handle of the broomstick with his fist. He didn't have to. A broomstick was like a horse in many ways. You didn't need to hold onto the reins in order to ride it. It was all a matter of balance.
"Now how many of you here have actually been able to catch one of these little devils eh?" He asked as the Snitch decided to circle his head in a crazy loop-da-loop pattern that would have made anyone dizzy if they had tried to follow it with their eyes. After a third pass Mordecai tucked the Quaffle under his left arm and waited until the Snitch was hovering behind his head before he made his move. The Snitch made a valiant dive to the left but Mordecai had his fist around it before it could even whisper in his ear.
"Tricky, but not impossible." He winked as he tucked the Snitch back into the folds of his robe and adjusted his weight on his broomstick so that it dropped a good ten feet and came to a hovering stop a foot above the ground. Wearing the black, white and blue uniform of the New Zealand Nationals Mordecai looking nothing like an average Hogwarts staff member. The robe was of a different cut, less drapery and more practical, which was a dead giveaway that the style was made for a hotter climate than the Scottish highlands. However the robes suited the man wearing them, right down to the tongue baring Maori tribal face that was stitched in silver thread across his chest. Mordecai Willaburn-Warton was not your average run-of-the-mill Quid Player.
"My name is Mordecai Gunther Willaburn-Warton, known to the Quid circuit as Morty Drover, and to the rest of the world as "that Kiwi Bastard" when in fact I am not a Kiwi but an Africans. Funny old world ain't it. I've done my time with many a team over the year but am best known for the long haul I pulled with the New Zealand Nationals and the Moutohora Macaws. And if you don't know who they are then you're not meant to be a Quidditch player." He flashed the group a cheeky grin to show that he did have a sense of humour and wasn't one of those uptight sorts that did nothing but bark orders from sunup to sundown and expect you to live, breath, sleep and eat Quidditch.
"As for the rest of my credentials, I've been at this game on an professional level for nearly 22 years, and 20 of those years internationally. Now what it all boils down to is that I've had the privilege butt heads with some of the meanest, foulest and fastest people on the planet and I've got the scars to prove it. I'm here today to teach you lot what it means to be a true Quidditch player, not just some witch or wizard on a broom. I can show you what it means to stare death in the face and how to out-run the wind without leaving the confines of this Pitch to do so. I can teach you moves and strategies that only the best of the best ever get to experience and I will push you farther than you have ever dared to go in your young lives. You want to play Quidditch and Quidditch you shall play. But that all depends if you'll have me. What say you?"
The gauntlet had been thrown. Mordecai sat back on his hovering broomstick and waited to see how the group would respond. He wasn't a professor, he wasn't going to tell them what to do or to take them by the hand and make their decisions for them. They were Quidditch players. They had every right to make up their own minds for themselves.
by Abbey Dawn Thu Oct 01, 2009 9:21 pm
