It was a crisp, late September Saturday morning

Author's Note: Thanks to Katy for telling me that all the flying pigs would enjoy my 300-word ficlet very much. Nothing like a little incentive. Ah, well. At least I was under 500 before the Author's Note and 's padding.

This is a Mercurial Trio story. If you're not familiar with the characters, it may be a little difficult to understand why they're acting the way they are. I would direct you to the other two Mercurial Trio stories, "Albus Potter and the Misspent Youth," and "The Mercury Chronicles: Beginnings" for more backstory. Otherwise, please do enjoy this wee ficlet. Reviews are most welcome.

The Mercury Chronicles: Quidditch

It was a crisp, late September Saturday morning. As had been our wont over the first three weeks of the month, Scorpius, Rose and I met in the Great Hall at precisely 9am (we would sleep in on Saturdays), made our way to our side of our tables and sat down to break our fast. As I'm busy cutting into a grilled tomato with my fork, a group of seven wind-burnt and exhausted Hufflepuffs arrive at their table; uniformed, and carrying brooms.

"Oh, look," I say rather nonchalantly, "Quidditch. Rose, be a doll and find out who they're playing today."

"You're not planning on going, are you?" Rose asked, nonplussed.

"Not sure. Do you think we ought to make an appearance?" I answered.

"Let's find out who's playing before deciding anything rash like that," opined Scorpius. As usual, he had a very good idea. Rose came back to our benches with a rather sheepish look on her face.

"Albus, they're playing Slytherin."

"Oh dear. I really ought to have known that, I suppose," I said with a half-hearted smirk. Conversation went back to Transfiguration homework. Angelica joined us for a while, which was always pleasant, but she was meeting some housemates who were going to teach her how to follow Quidditch before the match. We all agreed she was in much better hands with different housemates.

That afternoon we made our way to the entrance hall, where students had gathered in anticipation of being let into the grandstands at the Quidditch pitch. The three of us stood in the midst of this sea of colourfully dressed students with their house pride on display for the school to see. Scorpius, Rose and I were alternating looking at the ground and at each other, the entire time feeling dreadfully out of place.

"Ravenclaws are in this queue, firsties," barks a fifth-year prefect who was very obviously enjoying his new position. We looked at the prefect, then at each other, and then moved into the Ravenclaw queue where we were told.

"Right. Snake-boy, you go back with your kind. This is for Ravenclaws, here." And we looked at each other again, shrugged, and made our way over to the Slytherin queue, where a green-clad prefect was busy trying to shepherd us back to Ravenclaw. This was getting us nowhere, fast.

"Right then. Who'd rather be playing Exploding Snap in the Great Hall than standing here sweating and getting yelled at?" I murmured, mostly to Rose and Scorpius, but loud enough that at least those around me heard. It was a rhetorical question, because I knew we were leaving, but suddenly six different hands cautiously crept into the air, none of which belonged to either Rose or Scorpius. The three of us looked around, amazed. I smiled and pretended it was all part of the plan.

"Excellent. Glad I was going to bring these cards to the match, then."