So the puppy was annoying. It yelped when put away, it peed all the time, and pooped in the house, but our mother and Iris still loved it, and mostly everyone else had to admit it was cute. Lyre seemed to dislike it the most, and she glared as she detached its tiny teeth from her cloak the next morning. “Really now,” she complained to the assembled group of young wizards. “Since Iris isn’t here to care for the stupid thing, we should just put her away.”
“Mom will get mad.”
“Well, we’re trying to get ready, and it’s not like she’s watching it.”
“They’re the only ones who like it anyway.”
“A-HA,” Lyre yelled from the table. She held a broom up above her head in triumph. “Check it!” Hobbes and inspected it closely.
“Comet Two-Sixty,” Hobbes read aloud. “You’re a real freak, you know that.”
“Whatever. You’re only jealous because Bertrand and I got the only brooms.”
“Hey, Lyre,” Bertrand called from across the kitchen. “Are you playing Quidditch at lunch?”
“Heck yeah, and my team is so going to dominate.”
“Wait,” I interrupted.
“Quidditch?” Hobbes finished incredulously. “You’re going to play a nonexistent game? How does this work?”
“Well, you run around, holding the broom between your legs, and you try to hug the person dressed as the Snitch, while other ‘balls’ try to knock you off your broom, and you put the Quaffle through the goals.” Hobbes shook his head as she spoke. “Don’t give me that look. This is going to be the coolest day ever.”
“Whatever. Let’s just go, okay. We’re going to be late.”
“I love homecoming week.”