Now that he was no longer plagued with a cold made 864785645 times worse by his inability to create a medicinal potion correctly, Braeden felt it was time to celebrate. And what better way to celebrate his good health than with a quick football match, eh? Yeeaaahh.

Grinning to himself like the doof he was, Braeden borrowed one of the footballs from the groundskeeper and walked into the playing field with the ball held lightly between his hands, rotating it with his fingers as he walked across the field. Hmm. Not many people out playing this day… where was everyone? Oh well. He certainly wasn't complaining; it'd be hard to play with a crowd standing in the way.

Setting the ball down on the ground, the boy took a couple steps back before making a brief jog to it and kicking the football with the side of his foot as hard as he could, sending the ball flying off into the air. Golly gee, look at that. Was it just him or was he kicking better now than before he got sick?

The Gryffindork grinned to himself proudly.
Oh yeah. He was back. And better than ever.