University of Wizarding Professions

Broomstick race

"Come on, come on!" Niamh kept repeating, dragging Prudence by the wrist and sliding through the crowd.

"S-slow down," Prudence muttered, holding on their bag that was sliding down their shoulder, unable to readjust it.

"Hey Niamh! Wait for us!" Luisa cried, trying her best to catch up, slowed down by all the people she had to walk between.

"You guys have to stop running in this crowd!" Elijah groaned, holding onto Luisa's backpack, his other hand securing his hat on his head.

"We're almost there!" Niamh chirped, turning to Prudence as the crowd seemed to thin down.

Unable to stop her even if they wanted to, Prudence only nodded, internally praying for her to get them out of this suffocating place. Niamh tirelessly zigzagged between people, her hand tightly holding Prudence's wrist, until finally they reached the other side.
Niamh let go of their arm and started to jump on her spot with excitement, as Prudence readjusted their bag on their shoulder and their glasses on their nose, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the noise and movements around them. Luisa and Elijah eventually emerged behind them, both complaining about Niamh and her tendency to drag people around. Letting down a long breath, Prudence eventually moved their attention to what was actually happening, and causing all this ruckus.

The broomstick race was about to start. Students of all grades and all courses were huddled around the large recess in the school yard, all excited, some already cheering for their favourite racer. The recess was easily as large as a football field, but Prudence doubted the race would only make a loop around it. Some students had been sitting down the slope, but were being told to walk up to the top of the hill. Some students were holding banners, some flags with the colour of their course. Music was blasting from the speakers. The racers were getting ready, all huddled in the middle of the hole, and Prudence could hardly distinguish any of their faces.

"Ladies and gentlemen and other fellows," Mr. Davis' voice resonated in the school yard, coming from the giant pair of speakers that had been set on top of the slope, "welcome to the University's first holiday race of the year!"

Frantically looking around, then up, Prudence could eventually find where the teacher was. Slowly descending above the recess, the enthusiastic man was proudly standing on a broomstick, earning a few whistles of admiration from the students. He was wearing a bright red pair of pants, striped with white on the sides, and the matching jacket was tied around his waist, his muscular shoulders framed by a white tank top. His helmet, similar to one of a motorcyclist, seemed to be dangling from his broomstick's handle.

"Our racers are still getting ready," he enthusiastically said in his microphone, slowly guiding his broomstick down with impulses of his waist like a skater, "so let me introduce our referee staff for today!"

The crowd cheered, and Mr. Davis' broomstick went up and down, twirling with ease, the man perfectly balanced despite the lack of area of contact between his feet and the wood.

"He shouldn't be standing like that on it, should he?" Prudence heard Luisa say behind them.

"Let him do his thing," Elijah replied, "it's his only show."

"On my right," Mr. Davis roared, all the heads following his hand, "our untiring referee of many years, she's a goddess on a broom but she prefers the labs, Adonis Reeves!"

The crowd let out a loud cheer, which Niamh actively took part in. The crowd parted on the right, and Mrs. Reeves walked out, dressed in the same bright red outfit as Mr. Davis, her helmet under her arm. Her hair was tied in a strict bun, emphasizing her sharp features. At the sight of her, the Potions students cheered louder, and even Luisa joined in.

"Oooon my left," Mr. Davis said, spinning to face the opposite direction, "he doesn't want to be there but I forced him to, like every year, red doesn't suit him but it's the uniform, Gregory Lloyd!"

The crowd parted on the right, only for Mr. Lloyd to fly past the students' heads. His helmet covered his face, but his crossed arms and grumpy stance didn't leave any wonder about how his face could look like.

"Below me," Mr. Davis roared, spinning around yet again, his dreadlocks swaying with the movement, "he can't fly but no one can escape his sharp gaze, impartial and should I say, a tad gloomy, Rhys Strelitz!"

The crowd didn't seem to cheer as loud, this time. In the middle of the recess stood Mr. Strelitz, wearing the same outfit as the other teachers but without any protection gear, his long hair tied in a loose bun, stray strands of hair framing his neck. He glared at the crowd, which seemed to instantly quiet down, surprised by his presence. Prudence wasn't as surprised, Mr. Strelitz had come to them in the morning, telling them that their last day of detention with him would be rescheduled.

Undisturbed by the sudden lack of enthusiasm, Mr. Davis juggled with his microphone before speaking again.

"And, at the starting line as usual, your favourite commentator ready to cheer for his students, the one, the only, the most handsome... Me!"

His broomstick made a few loops under the crowd's raging cheers. Prudence couldn't help but to smile at the young teacher's goofy behaviour, Luisa and Elijah now cheering as hard as Niamh.