Beauxbatons [Charlie Weasley]

Quidditch

As they enter November, the weather turns very cold. The mountains around the school become icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground is covered in frost.

Winter is well and truly on its way, the weather getting much colder up here at Hogwarts than it does back in France. One good thing about the cold, Isabelle supposes, is that Quidditch season has begun.

Almost every evening after classes are over, Maisie, Ollie and Isabelle watch the Gryffindor team practise on the Quidditch pitch, cheering Noah on. He's a really brilliant Keeper, and hardly ever lets a goal in.

Charlie is the Captain of the team, and he's incredible.

Isabelle finds she can't stop watching him when he's playing, instructing his team to play a certain way, each instruction of his improving the team considerably. He knows how to assess the team as a whole, and picks up on precisely what the problem is whenever something doesn't run as smoothly as it should.

He's also an amazing Seeker. His eyes seem to be able to pick up on the slightest movement, easily locking onto the snitch and speeding off after it, trapping it in his strong hands, never once missing it.

Not knowing much about Quidditch herself, Isabelle decided to borrow a book called Quidditch through the Ages from the library, which turned out to be quite an interesting read.

She learnt that there's seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul, and that all of them happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers are usually the smallest and fastest players — which is quite the opposite to Charlie, though he is fast — and that most serious Quidditch accidents seem to happen to them — which made her slightly worried about the red-headed Seeker.

She also learnt that although people rarely die playing Quidditch, referees have been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

With the first match of the season — Slytherin vs Gryffindor — having finally arrived, the atmosphere of the school seems to have perked up considerably.

The morning's bright and cold, the Great Hall full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You ready, Noah?" Ollie asks, munching on some toast.

The Gryffindor trio are clad in red and gold, and Isabelle wears a crimson sweater herself, scarlet ribbons in her golden hair.

"Yeah. Excited," Noah replies, grinning as he eats his breakfast.

Ollie claps him on the back, and Maisie beams.

"You're gonna be amazing," she says, eating a sausage.

Isabelle nods her agreement, but lets her eyes wander further down the table, towards the Gryffindor Seeker, who, despite being the Captain of the Quidditch team, sits alone.

"Eez no one going to weesh Charlie good luck?" the French girl asks, furrowing her dainty brows.

"I think the last person who did that got themselves nothing more than a glare," Ollie says, chuckling.

"Charlie doesn't like talking to people. The only time he does is barking orders to our team. I wouldn't go over there if I were you. He doesn't need the luck anyway, he's a natural," Noah adds, finishing off his breakfast.

Deciding to completely ignore his advice, Isabelle stands up and makes her way over to sit opposite the red-headed Seeker. Charlie looks up as she sits down, his brows furrowed, but surprise lingers in his amber-green eyes.