240. Sirius is not allowed to provide the commentary for the Quidditch matches. Ever.
A/N: Dedicated to Anon. You know who you are.
“Welcome to the 187th Annual Quidditch Match!”
“Oh, I regret this already,” Minerva McGonagall muttered under her breath before speaking louder, “Mr. Black, we do not number our matches that way.”
“Well, we should,” Sirius Black responded quickly, “It would be much easier to keep track of them.”
“I think the system we’re using now works just fine,” she replied dryly.
With a nod and a wink, Sirius said, “Ah, I see. Using the ol’ ‘if it’s not broke, don’t fix it’ mindset. I get it. Change is hard.”
Professor McGonagall looked up at the sky, as though she were sending a quick word to any deity that may be listening above and said, “Mr. Black, when I told you you could fill in for Mr. Harper to do the Quidditch Commentary, you promised me you would behave yourself.”
“Did I?” Sirius asked innocently.
With a glare from his professor, Sirius rolled his eyes, “Yes, Professor. I promise.”
Despite the fact that she felt that should would soon come to regret this, she nodded her head once, indicating that Sirius could start the commentary for the match.
Eager, Sirius immediately called out, “Good morning Hogwarts!”
“It’s 2 in the afternoon,” Professor McGonagall interrupted.
Ignoring her, Sirius continued, “Welcome to our first game of the season.”
“This is our fourth game,” McGonagall corrected.
“On one side, we have the voluptuous, talented, and very courageous GRYFFINDORS!”
Cheers erupted from the audience as the Gryffindor Quidditch team flew out on their brooms onto the stadium.
“On the other side, we have the brilliant, stone-cold, and creative RAVENCLAWS!”
Cheers that matched the same volume from before went out for this other team.
“It’s – it’s not a battle,” McGonagall sighed, wondering if she should have brought a flask just to get through this game with Sirius at her side.
“And the balls have been let out,” Sirius said, watching as the two bludgers escaped from the box they were being tied down in and the snitch flirted with the team’s seekers before flying out of sight, “Oh boy, watch out for those two black balls. They look like they mean business.”
The coach stepped out on the field and lifted the quaffle out of its place, quietly lecturing the players about a nice, fair game before blowing her whistle and throwing the ball into the air.
“And the quootle has been set free!”
“It’s the quaffle,” McGonagall corrected him.
“And we’ve got Kelly from Ravenclaw who got a hold of the quootle and is racing away on her broom.”
“Mr. Black, it’s called the quaffle,” McGonagall corrected a second time.
“Kelly’s passing the quootle to Rick. Then back to her. Then back to him. Then back to – whoa. Anyone else feeling a little dizzy here? Surely there’s got to be a better way than just – WHOA! Rick threw the ball and got in into the little circle thing. Too bad, so sad for those Gryffindors. Cause it looks like Ravenclaw has just gotten themselves 15 points.”
“No,” McGonagall said with a deep breath, “It’s 10 points. Only 10.”
“Yeah, but I thought that their cool maneuvering deserved a couple of extra points.”
“That’s not how the game works,” she answered sharply, “you told me you understood the rules of the game, Mr. Black, are you telling me that you have no idea what you’re doing?”
Sirius scoffed, “Of course I know what I’m doing. I live in a dorm with James. Do you honestly believe that James wouldn’t lecture all of us about the rules of Quidditch? Speaking of which,” Sirius jumped up and waved his hand frantically at the players, “HI JAMES! HEY! LOOK AT ME!”
James waved his arm in a ‘go away’ motion before he dived down on his broom, knocking the quaffle out of a Ravenclaw’s hand and racing to put it in his owl goal.
Sirius tutted, clearly not pleased that his friend was ignoring him, “So rude. You’d think he’d take one small moment to say hello. But no. Instead he puts all of his attention on that dang quootle. Shows you what he thinks is most important.”
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” McGonagall spoke into the microphone as James threw the quaffle into the pitch and earned their team their first 10 points.
“Oh no, after that rude treatment he just gave me? I say we take away 20 points from Gryffindor. Start them in the negative,” Sirius insisted.
Rolling her eyes, McGonagall answered, “You can’t just take away points from the teams.”
“No, I assure you that you can’t.”
“Well, fine,” Sirius answered with a huff, “Then I’ll just give Ravenclaw an additional 20 points.”
“You can’t do that either,” she said, pausing as the Ravenclaws scored a second time (they really needed a new keeper), “We can give 10 points to Ravenclaw because they just scored, but that’s it.”
“Ugh, fine,” Sirius answered despondently, waving his hand as though that was going to add points.
McGonagall grabbed the scoring sheet, deciding it would be best if she just did it herself.
“And Roger picks up the quootle and passes it to the gorgeous Kelly,” Sirius continued, pausing for a moment to add, “mm – I wouldn’t mind going out with her, have you seen her? She is gorgeous. Stone-cold yes, but gorgeous.”
“Mr. Black – “ McGonagall started.
Sirius interrupted her, “I’m just adding a little intrigue to the commentary professor. No harm done. Kelly passes the quootle to Rick, who throws it back to Roger, then – INTERCEPTED BY AMELIA! Damn woman. You are looking fine out there.”
“Mr. Black, stop objectifying the female players.”
“Would it make you feel better if I objectified the male players as well?” he asked sweetly, “Amelia passes to Gerry, who is looking scrumptious in that Quidditch uniform. Can I hear a hell yeah from the audience if you agree?”
Sirius looked mighty pleased with himself when a sizeable chunk of fans yelled back, “Hell yeah.”
“Gerry passes it back to Amelia who goes in for the steal and YES! She makes it in past the Guarder of the posts! Should’ve thought twice before going against Gryffindor, Marian!”
Marian, the Ravenclaw Keeper, answered back with a crude gesture.
“Alright, now where is that quootle,” Sirius spoke thoughtlessly as he searched the field for the red ball, “Ah, there it is, and – WHOA! That black ball almost knocked Adrian off his broom! Isn’t someone gonna do something about that?”
“It’s the bludger, Black,” McGonagall replied exasperatedly, “It’s supposed to do that. And another 10 points for Gryffindor.”
“The blooder?” Sirius asked.
“Bludger,” she corrected.
“BLUD-GER. 10 points to Ravenclaw.”
Snapping his fingers together in an ‘ah-ha’ movement, he said, “Ah, yes, I know the ball you’re talking about. The blooger. Very nasty ball. Probably invented by a couple of Slytherins hell bent on making children suffer.”
“I’m just saying,” Sirius answered back, with his hands raised in a defensive position, “If they weren’t so aggressive, Adrian wouldn’t have to be running away from one.”
“He’s not running away,” McGonagall said, tugging on the microphone, “He’s seen the snitch!”
Sirius tugged the microphone back, “The snatch? Hey! Hey everyone! Stop what you’re doing! Adrian’s gonna get the snatch!”
“The snitch!” McGonagall yelled into the microphone, throwing her hands up into the air when we couldn’t grab it out of Sirius’ grasp.
“He’s gonna get it! Any second now. He’s weaving and bobbing and doing much better than Steven with his ugly face.”
“Mr. Black, don’t insult the other players,” McGonagall said on reflex, sitting at the edge of her seat as she watched the two players race for the snitch.
“It’s true,” Sirius answered unapologetically, “His face looks like it caved in on itself. HEY! Do you think that he got hit in the face with a blooger as a child? Repeatedly?”
“10 points to Ravenclaw,” the professor shouted out.
“Anyway, I’m rooting for Adrian to get the ball. His face is slightly less off-putting. In fact I think he’s going to get the ball … now. No, wait… now. Riiiight now! Okay, okay, 1 – 2 – 3 – NOW!”
“Black! You will stop that right now!” McGonagall ordered him, before adding on, “10 points to Gryffindor.”
“He’s reaching – he’s reaching … and … yes! Adrian has got the snatch! 10,000 points to Gryffindor.”
“150!” McGonagall yelled, changing the score, “Gryffindor wins, 180 to 40!”
“Hot damn Gryffindor,” Sirius said, letting out a whoop, “Bet you Ravenclaws wish you would’ve stayed in your beds this morning, huh?”
“Alright, that’s enough, hand me the microphone,” McGonagall demanded, holding out her hand for Sirius to comply.
Sirius did with a smile and asked, “This was fun, Professor. We should do this every time.”
McGonagall answered with a swift and resounding, “No.”
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