Catch The Snitch

A light breeze played against Kyle’s hair as he stepped onto the Quidditch pitch, broom in hand. Underfoot, the soft grass yielded with a gentle rustle. Presently the pitch was empty – a rare occurrence and a pleasant surprise. There were no flying classes or Quidditch training sessions scheduled, and nobody else had popped by yet for some extra practice. Whatever the reason was, he was glad that he had the whole place to himself, and he wasn’t going to let that go to waste.

Putting down his broom, he started off with some stretching and light exercises. He was wearing his prosthesis; he didn’t need it to fly, but it sure as hell was awkward to warm up with his crutches. After a couple of minutes he had limbered up sufficiently, and it was time to move on to the training proper. Pulling up the right leg of his tracksuit bottoms, he slipped his prosthesis off and set it aside, before folding and tucking away the excess fabric neatly. He didn’t like flying with the additional weight, and he didn’t need his prosthesis for that anyway. Besides, there was always a chance that it might become dislodged in mid-air and fall off, and the hazard it would pose to other people (and his wallet – why were prostheses so damned expensive?) was too much for him to risk.

Hopping onto his broomstick, he swiftly took to the air. High up in the sky, he was in his element. The wind howled and clawed at his hair and tracksuit, but could not slow him down one bit. He leaned forwards even further, making himself more streamlined and aerodynamic, as he tore through the air from one end of the pitch to the other. Then he pulled up into a steep climb, using his momentum to propel him skywards. Adrenaline kicked in as he fought against the inexorable pull of gravity. But this was a war of attrition and he was bound to lose, and very soon he would run out of steam and fall. He was swiftly approaching the apex of his climb now, his speed dropping with each passing second. At last, he could go no further and no higher. His broom stalled, and he felt the cold grip of gravity shackling him, pulling him down towards the deceptively soft and lush grass…

He allowed himself to fall backwards, the clear blue sky filling his vision and emptying his mind as he held his unnatural position for a few moments. Then he pitched backwards; the horizon flashed in and out of view, and he found himself staring straight at the green oval of the Quidditch pitch. Turning gravity’s strength to his advantage, he added in a burst of speed of his own and streaked towards the ground like an angry meteor. Faster, faster, faster… he urged himself onwards. The ground was rushing towards him with increasing speed, and the wind was shrieking into his ears. Emboldened by the adrenaline in his blood, and slightly giddy with thrill from the exhilarating speed, he stayed his course, ignoring the voice of reason and self-preservation in his head that screamed at him to abort the dive. Out of the blue, time seemed to slow down, and he entered a state of hyperawareness. He could feel the rapid pounding of his heart in his ears, despite the deafening roar of the wind. He could see the stands along the perimeter of the pitch, and beyond that, the rest of the school grounds. He became acutely aware of the broomstick in his hands and its every nick and scratch. The wind buffeting his entire body. The warm rays of the sun. The once-neatly-tucked right leg of his tracksuit bottoms that had become undone; those few inches of loose fabric were now flailing violently behind him like a demented air dancer. And the lush green oval in front of – or rather, below – him, daring him to come as close as possible.

Abruptly Kyle snapped back to his senses, and almost panicked. He could see nothing but the green wall of doom before him. With every once of strength in his body he yanked at the broomstick in an attempt to pull out of the dive. In retaliation the immense g-force crushed down upon him, and he fought back valiantly, refusing to let inertia win out. A chaotic mixture of fear, resolve and desperation bubbled over, and he let out a terrifying scream—

—and then he levelled off with but a few feet to spare, the grassy pitch below him rushing by in a blur. Instinctively he climbed a little higher, freaked out by his proximity to the ground. Had he acted a moment later, he would surely have become nothing more than a crimson splat on the grass. With the adrenaline rush fading, he found himself wheezing for air. Had he been holding his breath? And for how long? He didn’t know. In fact, he didn’t know what he wanted to or didn’t want to know. All he knew was that he was a bloody daft sod for toying with his own life like that, and that he was also chuffed to bits that he was still alive and in one piece. And then suddenly he burst out laughing for absolutely no reason at all. Maybe that close brush with death had left him utterly bonkers and devoid of his wits. He laughed until his sides hurt, and until he ran out of breath yet again and had to gasp raggedly like a dying fish for what felt like an eternity before his lungs ceased to burn as much and he finally got a hold of himself.

Deep breaths, slow and steady… he told himself as he coasted mindlessly along the length of the pitch. He was still shaken, but at least his hands weren’t trembling as much as before. Completely spent, he decided that he should just call it a day. As he looked around for his prosthesis, he caught sight of someone else on the pitch. Who was that, and when did they arrive? Did they see what he just did? Bloody hell... he cursed as he crossed his fingers, hoping he wouldn't get himself into trouble yet again.

It had been a bit of a slow morning. Breakfast had tasted like sawdust in her mouth, her friends' conversation sounded like nails on chalkboard and Anwen could do more than nod with a lackluster smile on her face. Fake, they knew she was being fake. But she couldn't force any feeling into the day today. She was itching to get outside, away from everyone, and into something that gave her joy. After breakfast, she waved goodbye to her friends, who didn't even bother to ask if they could tag along as they already knew the answer to the question. Alone...Anwen Rose Sawyer wanted to be alone.

She made her way across the deep greens of the Hogwarts grounds, completely barefoot of course. Her shoes hung loosely around her neck along with the camera she carried with her almost everywhere. A small smile played at the corners of her lips as she made her way across the grounds towards the pitch. The cool grass tickled her feet, the breeze blowing soft whisps of unruly hair behind her as she skipped through the entrance of the pitch. She tossed her shoes to the ground, the broomstick leaned up against the nearest wall as she readied her hair and herself for the joyride.

Anwen was completely unaware that there was another student on the pitch. It wasn't until she heard the rush of air and a sort of scream that she even looked up from the ground. Her eyes widened as the other student was coming extremely close to the ground below him. The urge to use her was great but the urge to photograph the event was even stronger. She reached down and grasped the camera that hung around her neck, never taking her eyes off the boy who was plummeting towards the ground. Her fingers easily found the button of the camera and she took several shots of him, who as it was, pulled the broom right with just a few feet to spare.

Her heart was racing for him as he started laughing uncontrollably. She couldn't help but smile as well, being that close to death and still cheating it was an incredible feat. When he looked around, seeming to be looking for something, Anwen felt a rush of warmth to her cheeks as she was caught red-handed with her camera in her hands. "Erm, I uh..." She bit into her lip and quickly grabbed her broom. "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone else was on the pitch, but that....was incredibly....scary." She offered him a warm smile before dropping the camera back to her chest.

As Kyle approached the newcomer, it didn’t take too long before he realised who she was. The camera in her hands was a major clue, and her long brown and blonde hair and slender build all but confirmed her identity: Anwen Sawyer, the Hufflepuff seeker who had shared a carriage with him on the first day of school. A pair of shoes lay forlornly on the grass, and a broom was propped up against the wall nearby, suggesting that she had came to the pitch either for extra practice, or just to fly around for fun.

He waved, and tried his best to not look as though he had just been through hell and back. “Morning,” he greeted, and surprised himself when he realised he didn’t stammer. Yet almost immediately he found himself at a loss for words. Don’t talk about the weather or anything dumb, he warned himself mentally. “Uh… nice w—to see you again,” he added, barely managing to catch himself in the nick of time.

Unexpectedly Anwen’s cheeks flushed, and for a moment Kyle thought he had messed up again. But she revealed that she didn’t know that someone else would be using the pitch today – did she think that she was intruding? – and that what had happened earlier was ‘incredibly scary’. So she had seen the whole thing, and probably even photographed it too, since her camera had been in her hands. “Yea, that was insane,” he agreed. In fact, ‘insane’ felt like a major understatement, but that was the only thing that came to his frazzled mind.

“Anyway the pitch is large enough for you to… uh…” He fumbled, unable to find the right words. He simply wanted to make Anwen feel more welcome, since she seemed apologetic to be here for some reason. “Yea, you know, so… uh… don’t worry about it,” he finished awkwardly, hoping that she would be able to comprehend his incoherent sentence. (Did it even count as a sentence in the first place?) His mind was racing – by now he was sure that he had gotten a better grip on himself after pulling off that aerial stunt, so why was he still so nervous?

“I don’t know what came over me just now,” he confessed out of the blue. “I wanted to clock some laps, but then the sky beckoned to me, and the next thing I knew, I was diving way faster than I ever did.” As his thoughts spilled out he felt a immense sense of catharsis, as though a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest. Simultaneously, he was taken aback by how candidly he had just shared something so private about himself. He usually kept such things to himself, but today he was just rambling on somehow. Not that it felt like a bad thing, but it was just highly uncharacteristic of him to do so.

“That dive… the Wronski Feint or something. It’s a seeker’s technique, right?” he asked. He remembered seeing the manoeuvre in a couple of Quidditch matches before; effective as it was, it was also an exceedingly difficult and dangerous trick, and he always wondered what went through a seeker’s mind when they attempted the move. He still didn’t know – his mind had pretty much been utterly blank the whole time, and the only thing he knew was that he probably wouldn’t dare to repeat that trick again anytime soon.

Kyle Winters, one of the boys she had shared the carriage with on the first day of school. The better looking of the two if she were, to be honest with herself. She quickly shook the idea of his attractiveness from her mind. Not. A. Single. Boy. Would. Want. To. Date. Her. At least in her own opinion and experience thus far at Hogwarts. "Good morning, Kyle!" She grinned but as she did she could feel the warmth and redness seep into her cheeks.

"It's lovely to see you again as well! Beautiful weather we are having isn't it?! I thought it was a perfect day to go flying. Even had to break away from my friends as they had too much to say. I needed to feel the wind in my hair and the grass between my toes, you know what I mean?"

She nodded quickly in agreement once again as he stated it was insane. "I got it on camera! I'll show you as soon as I develop it..." It then dawned on her that maybe he hadn't wanted to be photographed. "Oh, I'm sorry...Should I have not taken the photo...I can delete it but, I'm sure it's an amazing shot, and I just..." She trailed off and quickly looked at her bare feet feeling ashamed of not asking permission first. Her brother and mother got on her case for invading people's privacy on a regular.

She looked back up at him as he fumbled very ungracefully over his words. A small smile spread across her lips as she watched him try to convey that it was fine that she was here to fly. "Okay..." She grinned and grabbed the broom that was resting against the wall.

The words that came from the boy's mouth next rang so true in Anwen's ears."Oh...I completely understand that feeling! It's like it calls your name, begging you to come and play in the clouds!" She did a sort of twirl as she said clouds and stopped to look at him once more. "Sounds like you have a bit of seekers' blood in you." She grinned and booped his nose before scrunching up her face and grinning. "I personally love getting lost in my thoughts while I'm flying, although, I broke my wrist last year doing just that...Sort of fell off my broom while I was flying with the butterflies."

Back to flying and the idea of quidditch moves. She shrugged her shoulders. "Suppose it is...You did a darn good job of executing it...Unless....You didn't do it on purpose?" She smiled at the thought of the ground coming up quick in her sights, the idea of having seconds to pull up on the broom before crashing face-first into the field and risking breaking every bone in one's body if it wasn't done perfectly.

While Anwen talked about the fantastic weather and how it was a perfect day for flying and getting away from overly-talkative friends and the need to feel the wind in her hair and the grass between her toes, Kyle found himself swept along by by her exhilaration and infectious energy. “Yea, I feel that way a lot,” he nodded, completely understanding what she had just described. “I can’t really explain why, but when I’m flying I feel more alive.” Up in the air with nothing but a broomstick with him, he felt as though he had more control and more freedom to do whatever he wanted.

A huge part of that was, of course, due to his right leg. Even with a prosthesis, he could’t really run and jump like he used to. Nor could he feel the soft grass under both feet again. In fact, he never went barefoot after that fateful day; he always covered up his legs and feet to avoid drawing attention to his prosthesis. Even though practically the whole school already knew about it, and he occasionally went about his day with only his crutches, it was just something that he couldn’t get over, no matter how many times he told himself how irrational that was.

Anwen mentioned that she had captured his dive on camera, but before Kyle could say anything, she suddenly apologised for not asking for permission first. “No, please don’t delete it!” he protested hurriedly and a little too loudly, as though she was already in the process of doing so. “I’d love to see it,” he added in a softer tone, hoping that he hadn’t sounded too panicked or aggressive earlier. “I also think it’s really cool that you know how to use a camera.” Beneath the admiration there was just the barest tinge of sadness in his words – as a Muggleborn he was always interested in cameras and guitars and other Muggle stuff, but with his medical bills and school expenses he couldn’t afford to buy any. As such, seeing others pursue a hobby that he was also interested in always filled him with a mix of envy and vicarious joy.

When Kyle recounted how he had somehow decided to perform the tailside and the crazy dive, Anwen’s reply suggested that she too had felt the same thing before. There seemed to be a small but critical difference though: his experience was more akin to ‘getting into the zone’, but given how she twirled around playfully to emphasise the word ‘clouds’, hers was probably more carefree and relaxed. Had he been too consumed by his competitiveness that he had forgotten the simple pleasures of flying? And he was about to say that he wasn’t good enough to be a seeker when she unexpectedly booped him on the nose. Caught by surprise he froze up; nobody had done that to him before, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do in return, or if he was supposed to do anything at all. His face reddened rapidly, just like what had happened on the first day of school when they first encountered each other in the carriage. But then his anxiety faded as he found his attention drawn to the way she scrunched up her face. That made her look really beautiful under the gentle rays of the morning sun, and he could not help but smile back at her…

… until she revealed that she once broke her wrist while flying because she was lost in her thoughts. Kyle’s jaw dropped. “That must’ve hurt a bloody lot!” Instinctively he tried to reach for her wrists – both, because he didn’t know which one she broke – to check if there was any lasting injury, but belatedly he realised how rude he must have came across, and retracted his hands. “I'm sorry,” he said instinctively, hoping that he hadn't offended her. “Your wrist... it’s all healed nicely now, right?” he asked, just to be sure. While Skele-Gro seemed to be able to heal any bone-related injuries perfectly, he didn’t know if there were any limits to its curative powers, or if there were any side effects to the vile-tasting draught. “You should be more careful though,” he continued, worried that she might accidentally fall off her broomstick again in the future.

Not that he was in any position to advise her to remain focused while flying, since he himself had just pulled off a crazy stunt on the spur of the moment, so he quickly changed the topic and asked about the Wronski Feint. So when Anwen turned the guessed that he hadn’t intentionally performed the manoeuvre, he could only hum and haw. “Well…” he scratched his head, as he tended to do whenever he tried to skirt around telling the truth. “I was trying to see how fast I could go,” he finally admitted after a short delay. “I was ‘in the zone’, if you know what I mean, and then I suddenly snapped out of it and realised I had to pull out of that dive immediately. I guess you saw the whole thing?”

Abruptly it occurred to Kyle that he was metaphorically standing between Anwen and whatever she had initially set out to do at the pitch. “Look at us, we’re just larking around when you came here to fly,” he began, and as he said those words he suddenly worried that that she might take them the wrong way. “Not that it’s bad thing. I just hope I’m not holding you up or anything.” Nervously he began to fidget. His fingers found the hem of his tracksuit bottom’s right leg, and he fumbled a little before he managed to fold and tuck the loose fabric away neatly.

She grinned at him and couldn't help but feel a sort of connection with him that went beyond the flying aspect. "I can't either, it's just a freeing sort of feeling that I can't express in words." It was something that she always loved. It was a way of escaping the worries and stress of the world and just for that brief moment, nothing else mattered. She almost felt like a bird, flying without wings. "I almost feel like a wingless bird..." She trailed off, knowing that some people might think her comments were odd. Usually, she didn't mind but with Kyle, she seemed to care a little bit more about what he thought of her.

Kyle seemed almost offended that she had offered to delete the photo of him doing the dive. She jumped when he protested loudly but quickly smiled and shook her head. "Okay, don't worry, I won't delete it. As soon as I have it developed I'll show you for sure! I'm pretty confident that it will look amazing. You looked amazing out there." A smile played at her lips as redness seeped into her cheeks. "Oh!" She said excitedly. "I could totally show you how to use one if you'd like! It's really easy and I'm sure you would catch on quickly!" Wen always loved taking photographs, usually, it was of nature or animals around the grounds. Only on rare occasions was it of people but seeing what he had done, she couldn't resist the urge to photograph it. Not to mention he was rather photogenic.

Anwen never really gave any sort of thought about why she booped people on the nose. It was just something she had done since she was a kid and really thought it was funny, and maybe sort of cute as well. But when his face turned a shade of red she thought maybe it was something she should think about in the future. Although he quickly returned her smile and she couldn't help but nibble on her lower lip and sort of sway her upper body in a cutesy fashion as he smiled at her. He really was cute and even though she didn't think she had a chance in the world with a guy like Kyle, that didn't mean she couldn't talk to him right? After all, they were having quite an engaging conversation about flying and other things. Even though Anwen tried to escape the meaningless conversation at the breakfast table with her friends, the conversation she was having with Kyle wasn't meaningless. She was rather enjoying her time with him.

She let out a small giggle and shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, it hurt. Quite a lot, but they fixed me right up in the hospital wing. No need to worry about me. I'm pretty erm....tough most of the time." Anwen was surprised by his actions, how he reached for her wrists to see if they were okay, and was slightly disappointed when pulled his hands back without touching them at all. "Oh, um...yes. All better now, no lasting side effects or problems with it since." When his comment about being more careful stung just a bit, even though she was sure he didn't mean it to come off that way, she frowned just a bit. "Of c-course. I haven't allowed myself to be distracted since the accident, at least not while on a broomstick. But sometimes I can't help but see the beauty in the world. It can be a bit overwhelming at times. Don't you think?"

She nodded slowly. "I did see the whole thing. Although, I wouldn't say that you looked scared or panicked at all. You look rather...focused. I was deeply impressed." She grinned and her whole face lit up as she spoke. "Getting in the zone, I understand that completely!"

His words met her ears and she immediately started shaking her head. "No! No not at all. You're not holding me up! I am..." Her face turned red and she looked down at her feet which were now playing with the dirt on the ground. "Enjoying our conversation. I don't mind missing out on flying while I'm talking to you." She didn't want it to end. She didn't normally have conversations like this, especially not with boys. Normally it ended with, 'who's your friend?' or 'do you think you could set me up with your friend.' Kyle seemed genuinely interested in talking her which was a nice change of pace. Then again, he hadn't really met her friends yet either. She hoped that it wouldn't change after he did.

Somehow or another, Anwen understood what Kyle meant when he said that he felt more alive when he was flying. Clearly she too had experienced the same thing before. “I almost feel like a wingless bird…” she said, and as strange as that metaphor was, it kind of made sense in a certain way. “That’s probably the best way to put it,” he concurred. After all, there were simply no words he could find to properly describe that sensation and its intensity, as though language was the wrong tool for the task.

He got flustered when Anwen wondered if she should delete the photo of him that had been taken without his permission, but settled down just quickly when she promised that she wouldn't. Suddenly he felt a bit silly and embarrassed for getting worked up over a photo. His dad didn’t take many photos of him, and when he and his mother moved out to live on their own, they had only brought a handful of framed photos with them. But Anwen didn’t know about this, and it seemed odd to reveal this to anyone when nothing could be done about it. His smile came back when Anwen said that she’d show him the photo when she got it developed, and that it would be amazing. He was about to attribute that to her skill when she suddenly added, “you looked amazing out there.” His ears began to redden again. “No, I… um…” he began, instinctively trying to deflect the compliment, before deciding that it was probably more polite to just accept it humbly. “Thank you,” he said, before quickly changing the topic to Anwen’s skill with her camera.

He hadn’t counted on Anwen offering to teach him how to use a camera, and as excited he was for the opportunity, he was also a little anxious. Cameras weren’t cheap, and he was worried that he might accidentally damage her camera. But as long as he was extra careful with it, he reckoned it should be all right. “I’d be delighted to,” he replied. “I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed but I’ll try my best.”

When Anwen told him that she had recovered fully from her accident, he heaved a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.” He of all people would know how much of a pain (literally) the long term effects of an injury could be. She didn’t seem too pleased with his earlier remark though, confirming his worry that it hadn’t been appropriate for him to ask her to exercise more caution. Nonetheless, she didn’t directly voice out her displeasure, and instead offered a point of view that Kyle couldn’t refute. “Yea, I completely agree. Someone once told me: ‘Beauty is in the most fragile of things and most fleeting of moments, ready to surprise you when you least expected it.’” That was what Rohaan – bless his soul – had taught him. Indeed, there were numerous occasions where he just happened to be in the right place at the right time to witness something so breathtaking that he had to drop everything and just lose himself in that moment.

Losing himself in the moment… that was probably what he had done at the apex of his climb earlier, which led to him almost crashing into the ground. “Well… it was a do-or die kind of situation, so I guess I was really focused on trying to not die,” he said with a wry smile.

It felt kinda surreal that he was able to joke about the whole incident just minutes after it happened. And it was probably thanks to Anwen: talking to her really helped him calm down and ground himself after that harrowing experience. “Same… it’s nice to have someone to talk to for a change. No, wait, that came out really weird. Sorry, I’m really not good with words…” He paused for a while to collect his thoughts and string together a proper sentence in his head before he continued. “It’s nice to have a proper conversation with someone. Not just small talk, but a good, proper… um… deep conversation… um…” He wanted to say that he hadn’t had someone with whom he could have such a talk with, but his sentence seemed to have taken on a life of its own and strayed away from what he intended to say, and he couldn’t wrangle it back on track. “I mean, I’ve not had someone like you to talk to for a while.” There, he had finally gotten it off his chest, and even though the admission made him feel vulnerable, it felt so liberating and right at the same time.

It suddenly occurred to Kyle that he had been sitting atop his broomstick all this while, and he hadn’t even retrieved his prosthesis yet. And speaking of it… “Um… I think I might have misplaced my prosthesis.” He was pretty sure he left it somewhere in the vicinity standing up, but maybe it had fallen over from the wind or something.