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The Dom Rejuvenator
Aingingein, the game of champions, and Dearborn was no champion. Yet here he was playing against one of the greatest players the Montrose Magpies had ever seen, Hamish MacFarlan. It was a benefit game, to raise money for the children's ward at St. Mungos, and Dearborn could not remember why he'd agreed to play. It was just a break from everything going wrong, everything ...
Amazing as it was, Macfarlan's team of celebrities and sports champions was down two to one verses the volunteers. Macfarlan had the dom now though, and things did not look as if they were going to end well.
Macfarlan was heading towards the flaming hoops, but Stanley Venders, from accounting, was doing some fancy flying at Macfarlan's rear. A clean shot to the back and he got the dom. Little Stanley Venders from accounting got the dom from Hamish Macfarlan!
"Yes! Venders!" A whistle blew. Dearborn did a one eighty on his broom. The game's official was calling a foul, a foul! "Bad call! Bad ..." But the crowd was cheering, it was Macfarlan, of course they were cheering. It felt lousy playing in a fixed game, even for charity.
He landed for a quick huddle with team captain, Kit from the Department of Mysteries. "Some call huh?" he said, trying to laugh. No one replied. "Well, you're all doing great, keep it up!" Kit was really trying.
"Can I go home yet?" Someone asked. Dearborn frowned.
"We've got to finish," Kit replied. "It's for the kids."
"But we'll never win."
"We might." Everyone looked at Dearborn. "I have an idea. A trick play, it works 75% of the time."
"How do you know? All the professionals are on the other team."
"I read about it last time I was at Whizz Hard Books (129b Diagon Alley)."
"Are you a walking advertisement? What's the plan?"
Dearborn swallowed, this was a lot of pressure. "It's called the dom rejuvenator," he said. "All we've got to do is ..."
The whistle blew and the team rocketed back into the air. The official smirked and nodded to each captain. The gong went off and the dom was released.
Dearborn got caught in the frenzy of cloaks as they dove, every player reaching for the dom. Exiting the mass Dearborn clasped his arms against his chest as if holding it. Oh please let Kit or Stanley have grabbed it, he prayed. Sneaking a glance over his shoulder he saw it, one volunteer had gotten the dom, and every single one of them had his arms clasped as if he were that someone. Macfarlan looked confused, the official did not seem to know who to watch as the entire team sped off for the flaming hoops.
The celebrities were in a frenzy now, trying to coordinate, but they didn't have time. Dearborn halted with the group and pulled back his arm, Stanley scored. Pay back, Dearborn thought, satisfied. The gong went off again, the game was finished. Macfarlan and the official had both lossed, that was karma.
Kit was flocked by reporters as he touched down. "It was Dearborn," he said. "Quite a strategist."
A small wiry looking woman with a quick quotes quill bouncing beside her hurried up to Dearborn's side. "You must be quite a repository of information to have remembered that play sir," she said. “It hasn’t been done in years. This will be a story of some import in the Daily Prophet’s sports section. Sorry, sorry, I mean importance," she laughed to herself.
"I bet," Dearborn replied sarcastically, he just wanted to go home.
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I'm condemned by a society that demands success, when all I can offer is failure
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From Random Elements a Story Make Challenge # 2
Mar 30 2006, 08:42 PM
