[✓] 𝘗𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 ,𝘋.𝘔𝘹𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳,

8| Stranger

''𝘼𝙡𝙨𝙤, 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙒𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪?''

''𝗤𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘆 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱. Each team has seven players, three chasers, two beaters, one keeper and a seeker.'' Oliver then turns back to Harry and I. ''Harry, your seeker. Y/n, your chaser.'' Harry and I turned to each other with smiles before looking back at Oliver. 

Oliver had woken Harry and I up early this morning, wanting to teach us as much about Quidditch as he could, before we actually played a game. He was doing pretty well so far too, telling us about how much he despises Flint. 

''There are three kinds of balls.'' He goes to pick up a red ball. ''This one's called the Quaffle. Now, the chasers handle the Quaffle and try to out it through one of those three hoops.'' He points into the far distance, where the Quidditch Pitch is set, specifically at three hoops at are high above ground. ''The keeper, that's me, defends the hoops. With me so far?'' He tosses the Quaffle to Harry. 

Harry throws back the Quaffle. ''I think so. What are those?'' He asks. There were three strapped down balls, squirming around. 

''You better take this.'' Oliver hands me a wooden bat, as I turn it around in my hand. He bends down to undo the leather that has the ball strapped, only for it to shoot up high in the air. ''Careful now, it's comin' back.'' 

As the ball started making it's way back down, I gripped onto the bat and his the ball as hard as I could. Basically like when I was playing baseball with the kids around the neighborhood. When I hit the ball, it was exactly like holding a baseball bat, which ended up in the ball going in-between the swords of the statue on top of the tower. 

''Eh, not bad, Granger, you'd make a fair beater. . . Uh-oh.'' The ball starts zooming back down, Oliver getting ready to catch it. It looks like he has to wrestle with the ball to get it back into the case. When he succeeds, he gets back up but is out of breath. 

''What is that?'' Harry asked with wide eyes. 

''It's a death trap, Harry.'' I retorted, still holding the bat. 

''Mine as well be one. It's a Bludger. Nasty little buggers. But Harry, you are the seeker, and the only thing I want you to worry about is this. . .the Golden Snitch.'' Oliver holds up a small, golden ball. 

''I like this ball.'' Harry commented. 

''Ah, you like to now. Just wait, it's wicked fast and damn near impossible to see.''

''What do I do with it?'' Harry asked.

''Thought that bit was obvious, Harry. You catch it.'' I retorted, looking closely at the snitch. 

''Granger's right. Catch it before the other teams seeker. You catch this the game is over. You catch this, Potter, and we win.'' 

The ball jumps out of Harry's hand, as two delicate looking wings come from either side of it. Harry let out a small 'woah' of amazement, which I had also followed with a short 'yeah'. Good thing, Harry had to catch this thing, and not me. Otherwise we'd be loosing every game. Oliver slowly took the snitch back, and put it back into the trunk.