The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - will you be a quidditch pro or maybe a prefect? The year is now 2021, and now it's time for the next generation to make their mark. The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - and that is where the fun begins.
The plot will be determined by the characters of the site as of now - future plots will change as these forces weigh in on the Wizarding World, and we see where these characters take us. So join in and let your character make their mark!
Minimum word count is 200.
Hours of practice. Keeping himself out of trouble so he could have a chance of making it to the try-outs for the new position. Using all of his concentration and flexibility out in the Quiddich field to be the first one to find the golden snitch every time they asked. They'd finally named him the starting Seeker in the Gryffindor Quiddich team.
So why was he crying? Why was the newly emblazoned Weasley jumper in tatters across the floor? His hand trembling, gripping desperately onto his wand as he pointed it at the name plate above his section in the training room? Everyone else had already left, all of them having congratulated him and the rest of the members of the team for landing their roles, expecting them to win in the upcoming match against Ravenclaw.
Expecting.
His father was going to hear about it from someone sooner or later. George didn't have time to set up much wizarding media presence apart from an automated service updating people on new stock, so everyone posting about the new team line up wouldn't get to him that way. But there were other Weasley's who would write home about it. It'd get to him sooner or later, but it wasn't going to come from him first.
Fred thought he'd gotten over this a long time ago, but every time had finished flying through the air, his mind completely focused on the sport at hand, he remembered that it's what his family expected him to do. He'd rebelled by not even entertaining the thought of being a beater, but he was still playing in the Gryffindor Hogwarts team just like he had done, wasn't he? Just because he was playing a different position didn't mean that he had completely stepped over the footprint he was trying not to step in line with. His father would clearly be proud of him, as would his mother, but would it be because they were proud of the time and effort that he had put in to getting this far, or just because he was doing the same things they did?
He could hear them talking.
"Maybe he'll even get together with someone from the team?"
Just because you two did doesn't mean I have to!
"At least he's enjoying it for now, there's a lot of work to be done here if he wants to help you out in the shop when he's done with Hogwarts."
Just because Dad went into business doesn't mean I have to! What if I want to play professionally?
Falling deeper and deeper within himself, with each internal scream at conversations that probably weren't even happening he flung a spell at a different object. It refused at one point, and he then he threw that across the room, landing in front of the girl's changing room door. Dom would be letting someone know that he was the new seeker, and then his father would know soon after that. He took a step forward, wanting to throw himself into the girl's changing rooms and tell her not to do it, not to let him know yet. But he knew everyone was gone.
Tears of anger turned into tears of regret. He was blaming others for something they had no control over. If she wanted to tell her family about the new line up, so be it. Just because he didn't want his father finding out about his position didn't mean he had the right to stop others from expressing their own desires. It was if he was seeing his own destruction for the first time, as a jolt of pain worked its way up from his knuckles that obscured the name 'Fred Weasley'. He was himself, just as other people were themselves. He couldn't let other people try to mould him into what they wanted him to be, just as he couldn't stop other people from doing what they wanted to do.
A few shaky breaths later, and his wand back in his bag, Fred began picking up the pieces of his jumper. He'd laugh and say he'd gotten too excited in trying to take a picture that he'd torn it apart with pure strength, then got carried away into making it confetti. He'd get a new one before the next match. He was looking forward to playing in an official match, to make a name for himself.