How do we emerge victorious from the quagmire
Leave the battlefield waving Robbie Rotten’s hat higher?
So, I'm about to rub my dirty little American hands all over a sport made up by a British woman, but hear me out: Hogwarts students getting fuckin' "Friday Night Football" levels of turnt for quidditch games. Especially since there's only SIX games every year!!! So, imagine that it's either sixth or seventh year, and Sid is comin' in HOT off of his Veela glo-up, and he's so self-conscious because of how people change when he nears them, and frustrated because, maybe a little part of him (1/5)