My first team practice took place down by the quarry, where an oval pitch had been magically marked out in chalk and three goal hoops erected at each end. We divided into two teams and decided to play a full match. Even though as Muggles, our broomsticks hardly left the ground, the game was exhilarating. I played Chaser and proved a natural, swooping and weaving around the field, popping the Quaffle four times through the opposition’s goal hoops. Daisy Salamander, our Seeker, brilliantly caught the Snitch in the game’s dying moments and ensured our team’s triumph. We came together in jubilant celebration and for the first time since I arrived in this strange land, I felt welcomed, ensconced in a warm circle of newfound companionship.
In the showers afterwards, the Captain, Tobias Greengrass, shimmied up to me. “You sure know how to toss a Quaffle.” Way to make me feel like a million Sickles! He continued, “Listen, after practice we usually head down to The Spotted Dragon. We’d love to welcome you into the fold with a Butterbeer or two.” I hurriedly changed from my Quidditch robes into my everyday robes and minced breathlessly to the tavern, skipping every other step.
Oh, the Butterbeer flowed that evening! We assembled around a long table, swapping daring tales and belting out anthems of cheer and goodwill. We quickly took to drinking games to exhibit our worth. Tobias challenged me to knock back a chalice of Smirnoff. Handing me the drink, he yelled, “Incendio!” and set the beverage aflame with his lighter. It was piping hot, charring the fleshy insides of my mouth and stomach, but the group’s spirited chanting spurred me on. What was this burning sensation I felt within me? No, it was not fire, but friendship.
Like Fantastic Beasts sequels, our drinking games grew steadily less defensible as they went on. Other patrons began to show their displeasure, but we were oblivious in our merriment. We took turns to down steaming chalices of Polyjuice potion. It tasted awful, just like in the book! Although the potion master later confided that it was made from “piss and shit”, its effect was nonetheless consistent with Rowling’s vision. We were finally asked to leave when our Keeper, Bertha MacMillan, struggled to neck her goblet of urine and it spilled down her chin and all down her robe. “Hufflepuff wanker!” I jeered, and everyone laughed.
Stepping onto the street, Tobias whispered to me, “We’re holding a little... afterparty.” His face quivered menacingly in the full moon. “How would you like to truly become one of us?” For a moment I thought he was yanking my wand, but no - he was totally serious. Just one evening together and this breathy adonis deemed me fit to join his ranks!
We proceeded to a dilapidated old house by the railroad tracks. A fat lady’s portrait hung over the door. Tobias gave the password, “Jelly Beans”, then pushed the door open himself. We stepped down into a basement, then down again into another, dingier basement. I was stripped down to my vest and safari shorts and seated in a wooden chair in the centre of the barely-lit room. The group, now in their hooded initiation robes, formed a hushed circle in the darkness around me. Tobias explained that new members must prove their worth to their Quidditch teammates through completion of several specially selected tasks. Great Godric’s Beard, I was excited. What could they be? Giant chess or word games, I hoped.
The actual activities were not quite what I had expected. I was first to carry feces-covered rocks through a spooky forest, then do push-ups in urine-soaked garbage. I can’t say it was pleasant, but my new comrades were there for me the whole way, chanting incantations of encouragement. As my exhausted body began to falter during the second task, one of the Beaters, Alabus Fletchley, struck my bare behind with his Nimbus 2000. It was just the encouragement I needed to cross the finish line and finally earn the respect of my brethren I so crave.
It was now past midnight and my urine-soaked vest was clinging tightly to my cold, wet skin. The team secretary, Jezebel Merkin, suggested we keep the festivities going and mosey down to the empty barn at Old Man Algeyer’s farm. We marched deeper into the night and filled our goblets with warm Butterbeer from a keg that Jezebel had magically procured. As we danced late into the night, I realised I had never been quite this happy in my life. Like Matt LeBlanc, I am nothing without Friends.
The barn door burst suddenly open. My heart jumped like a chocolate frog! It was Old Man Algeyer, furious to be awoken by yet another crowd of rowdy Potterheads in his barn. The whole group froze, stupefied except for Tobias, who stared calmly back at the farmer. You could have cut the tension with a silver dagger. Tobias turned his head slowly towards me.
“This,” he proclaimed, “is your final assignment.”
The final hurdle! I steadied my breathing and stepped forward. Tobias called out, “Accio Shooter!” and someone promptly passed him an enormous handgun, the same one he’d used when a streaker ran onto the Quidditch pitch earlier. He placed it in my hand. I had never shot a farmer before. The bullet hit Old Man Algeyer square in the chest, Expelliarmus-like, blowing him clean off his feet. He was dead before he hit the ground. The weapon’s awesome force catapulted me backwards and I would have smacked my head on the cold stone floor but for my peers, my new family, catching me and breaking my fall.
Our exaltation was quickly curtailed by the distant wailing of sirens. Like J.K. Rowling’s bathroom, this was not a place to be caught with your trousers down. Those with cell phones had their parents pick them up, but I had to escape by broom. The muggle police took me down about a mile from the barn. Thank Godric, all of my friends were able to get away. I was subsequently sentenced to prison for the rest of my life - that’s actually where I’m writing from now. I won’t say prison is enjoyable, locked up all day like a House Elf, but once a week the old Quidditch gang shows up. Those visits really help me stay afloat. Friends - where would I be without them?