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Post by finley aydan rein on Jul 11, 2012 21:11:07 GMT -5
 [style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] a couple of WORDS FOR gryffie & puffle quidditch teamsjade and i decided this had to happen. BULLSHIT [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]”Explain to me, again, how the hell fourteen pesky quidditch players have found themselves in my hospital beds?” Finley Rein addressed a group of pathetic looking miscreants. The entire Hufflepuff and Gryffindor quidditch teams had ended up in the hospital wing after a particularly vicious incident on the pitch. Finley’s face was jaded with anger that was entirely unjustified.
”Oh wait, no, fifteen. Mr. Cadwallader over here seemed to get himself beaten up for saying the wrong thing, again.” Finley pointed to a ridiculous looking excuse for a human being that was holding a slab of horse meat to his face as an ice pack. Part of the Gryffindor team was sent away. Their injuries weren’t as bad as the others and Finley didn’t want them all hanging around. Other students kept knocking on the door, telling him their best friends or boyfriends were in there. He ignored them, as was his specialty.
”Do you know how much paperwork I’m going to have to do tonight because the lot of you have decided to get yourselves injured? Let’s just say that the pile will take hours. I’ve half the mind to make one of you do it, but the Headmaster says that would be too cruel. Instead, I will tell you this. I have exactly 5 bottles of sleeping serum for the night. Whoever is in the most pain and wants one of those bottles to get to sleep had better be treating me like a God.” Finley informed them all of this as he moved toward a towering desk in a corner of the massive room. The two team had been separated onto different sides of the room, but none of them were fighting anymore. As a matter of fact, Finley recalled people from opposing sides coming to visit each other when the other was ill in the past. Since when did friends get into brawls? Finley wouldn’t exactly know. He’d never had a friend. Only acquaintances, enemies, and admirers. [/style] |
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Post by marlene edith mckinnon on Jul 11, 2012 22:14:21 GMT -5
 what is this 'listening' skill you speak of? ”Explain to me, again, how the hell fourteen pesky quidditch players have found themselves in my hospital beds?”
It was a very good question, Marlene had to admit, but not one the school healer needed to concern himself with. Shouldn’t he just be healing them? Handing out potions? Marlene certainly could use one. She was sure her arm was dislocated from that tumble she took off her broom when someone (she hadn’t spotted who) grabbed the tail at the start of the fight. And she was sporting two black eyes, gained when she had blindly entered the brawl, her good hand swinging. Her right ankle was sprained, she was covered in bruises. Her beater bat had been lost in the fall; no doubt she’d have to replace it now. It was probably in a million pieces. Her broom, too.
She should probably be thanking her lucky stars that no one had died.
Instead, she was waving frantically at Callie Moran, in a bid to get her attention. Of course, the healer had separated the two houses, so Marlene couldn’t exactly be inconspicuous in her waving. “Cal! Callie!” she stage whispered, having tuned out the healer. She didn’t care about his words! When he started doling out the healing, then she’d listen. Let Dumbledore do the lecturing!
“Want to go for some hot chocolate and cookies after?” Marlene was again speaking to Callie. “You can come too, Ludo,” she added when Hufflepuff’s captain, and her sometimes favourite cousin, fixed her with a glare. Marlene had already forgiven the brawl, and was well on her way to forgetting. Well, not entirely. She didn’t have a memory disease after all. Mar was well aware that the fight had started over a tie game. Things had quickly descended into chaos when it became clear that no one was sure who had won. But, that was in the distant past. The teams had been in the hospital wing for at least thirty minutes! It was time to get cleaned up, and shipped out.
Where were those potions the healer kept mentioning?
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Post by grace elizabeth davies on Jul 12, 2012 21:49:46 GMT -5
  Ludo had told Gracie that quidditch was a perfectly safe game. That all she had to do was stand there, er, fly there… No, that wasn’t right. All she had to do was stay in the air, and out of the way, and everything would be fine.
Well, Ludovic Bagman was a liar.
He had to be! Otherwise, Gracie wouldn’t be sitting in this Hospital Wing, with the mean healer, covered head to toe in mud. The pathetic, muddy creature was curled up in her hospital bed, sobbing. She was sure she was going to get a detention; sure that Filch was going to get Dumbledore to let him use those scary rack things when he found the mud she tracked from the pitch through the castle. She was certain that the healer was going to start screaming if Marlene McKinnon didn’t stop trying to talk over him.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! Things had been alright, at first. But then she had dropped the quaffle and Ludo had called a time out to scream at her. Things had gone decidedly downhill from there. But then the match had been called off, so Gracie thought things had to be looking up! Except, then she had fallen into a mud patch while trying [and failing] to land. Her wrist hurt, it was probably strained. Then she had almost died. Trampled by the Gryffindors! She loved Gryffindors! Why were they being so mean? Then when she had hidden under a bench, someone had flipped it over, splattering her with more mud! It was everywhere! In her hair, on her robes, smeared across her face. The referee had found her afterwards crying on the edge of the brawl, and had screamed at her for shaming the house of Hufflepuff and showing poor sportsmanship. Well, she hadn’t flipped a bench! But the referee would hear no excuses.
Gracie had been forced into the hospital wing with the rest of the two teams, and Cas. And now the it was the healer’s turn to be mean. She didn’t want to do paperwork! Or treat him like a god! She wanted a shower, and some hot chocolate. Maybe Marlene and Callie would let her tag along? She’d ask, but whenever she opened her mouth all that came out were hiccups and sobs.
Maybe she had to relax. Maybe she needed to stop thinking such uncharitable things about the healer. Maybe he was cranky because he was terrible at potions, and they needed more than he had. Some people didn’t like to admit they needed help. Maybe Gracie should offer to help him make more? Yes, that seemed like a reasonable course of action! Just as soon as she calmed down a little.
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