 PHILOMATH ❅ not one atom, but two ♪ ♪ made of starstuff ❅ def main():
Ronan did as he was told, and stretched while Bel spoke. He kept glancing at the obstacle course - the aerial obstacle course - and the longer he Bel spoke, the more he looked at the course, the less confident he felt. Hoops?? Water balloons?? RACING?? Ronan was fast on land, but up in the air? Not so much. Not in his opinion. The Falcons chasers were impossibly faster than him. And probably everyone here, too. A knot formed in the eleven year old's stomach as he looked at all the returning players from past years, and he realised that there was a very likely chance he would not make the team.
It made Ronan really sad, but not as sad as Bel's next words. "What?? Ronan's eyes WIDENED. He knew, of course, the rule about brooms (a lot of convincing went into getting his parents to pack his) but he thought it would be okay and no one would care? "But... I don't know how to fly on.. a different broom," Ronan's voice had quietened to just above a whisper, disheartened and broken already. He just wanted to get on the team. No wonder first years never made it, they had to try out on really bad brooms.
Dragging his feet, Ronan went and handed Bel his Comet, red faced and oh so very sad. "Please tell the flying professor to be careful," Ronan said, dejected and genuinely worried that something might happen to his broom at the hands of Hogwarts. Please, Merlin, let nothing happen to his Comet.
With sad, drooped shoulders, he then went to grab a school broom, locating an ancient Comet model. At least it's still a Comet, right? He climbed the broom, and with an unsure bite of his lip, kicked off unsteadily into the air.
Welp.
__________________ yeah I like tеlling stories________________________
but I don't have to write them in ink_____
_____________I could still change the end |