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CHARLOTTE REMEMBERED THE FIRST TIME she flew a broom.
It was an old Shooting Star from the 1950s that her grandmother owned back then. It was passed to the young Timolthy Odell Andrews, who then passed the broomstick to his only child; Charlotte Juliet Andrews.
At the tender age of nine, the young Andrews girl used to sneak outside the comforting walls of her home and into the dark woods of Albania past her usual time of sleep. Her father was out working with another one of his 'investigations', and Blubby the house-elf was stuck next to her so she found it hard to sneak out.
Charlotte wanted to try something new and exciting. She knew she was being reckless; it was her impulsive nature taking over her.
As she mounted her broom, she kicked off the ground, hovering six feet above the ground. She was wobbly and scared at the start but nevertheless she learned to control the broom and began to fly around the small cottage that she called home for the past two years. From sixth feet to ninth feet. She began to get comfortable with the broom that had the speed of the snail.
She remembered the feeling of the wind beneath her fingertips. The tingling feeling in her fingertips sent her into a euphoria of emotions. She remembered the way her blonde hair whipped around wildly, probably looking like as mess. But she didn't care. She felt infinite.
Watching the Bulgarian and Irish players fly their brooms gracefully sent her feelings soaring like a Phoenix who bore the most enthralling set of feathers that shined in gold. The feeling that she felt during her first flight came crashing down on her; she felt excitement.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"
The Irish Quidditch players played gorgeously in the air. Troy, Mullet, and Moran had managed to throw the Quaffle to each other at a fast pace that Charlotte mastered to follow in years of watching Quidditch games with her father. The crowd cheered, Charlotte following their lead while watching with her Omnioculars.
Charlotte watched the three magnificent Irish players that she adored since she got into Quidditch. Troy was in the center ahead of Mullet and Moran, bearing down upon the Bulgarian players.
Troy made as though to dart upward with the Quaffle, drawing away the Bulgarian Chaser and dropping the Quaffle to Moran.
A Bulgarian beater swung his club at the Bludger towards Moran, who merely ducked and thankfully avoided the Bludger. But to Charlotte's dismay, Moran dropped the Quaffle and one of the Bulgarian chasers soaring beneath her caught it. Troy swooped up and stole the Quaffle, making his way towards the Goalposts and threw the Quaffle, the Bulgarian keeper failing to catch the ball.
"TROY SCORES!"
Charlotte cheered, along with the other Irish supporters. "Ten zero to Ireland!"
