quidditchdavies (quidditchdavies) wrote in marriagelaw, @ 2008-06-25 18:38:00 |
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Current mood: | confused |
Entry tags: | roger davies |
All Aboard the Knight Bus
Who: Roger Davies and anyone on the Knight Bus (or seeing it go by)
Where: All over England
When: Wednesday Knight, June 25th 1999
Rating/warnings: PG
The bitter scent of potions flared Roger's nostrils as he blinked awake.
"What the bloody hell? Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh..." He moaned and shut his eyes tight against the light and the sharp pain in his head.
A stern faced witch in a Healer's wimple burst through the door and Roger moaned again. Wards must have alerted staff that he was awake and moving.
"Ready to rejoin the living, Mr. Davies?" she asked, casting scanning spells on him from head to foot.
Something wasn't right. "This isn't the locker room... Where am I?"
"You're at St. Mungo's Mr. "Davies. You took a nasty bludger to the head, then a nasty fall to the ground.
He gasped and began to rise, realizing that he had nothing on under the thin flimsy sheet that covered him. "I've got to get back to the pitch!"
The Healer snorted loudly. "Your game's long over. Today's Wednesday, my boy."
"Fuck!"
"Language!"
Roger flopped back groaning loudly.
"Your mother's been at your side. I told her as soon as she left for lunch that you'd come round. There's a gaggle of giggling girls out there in the waiting room, if you'd prefer."
"Well, who won?" he asked sourly.
"Haven't the foggiest," she chuckled and ran him through the standard cognizant, vision, hearing, and other tests. Satisfied with their result, she handed him his wand and bid him cast a few simple spells.
Finally, she gave him a potion for his aching head.
"I can play this Saturday, right?" he asked anxiously.
"Certainly not! You take another fall like that and they'll be scraping your brains up for potions ingredients." She made as though writing a label in the air. "Idiotic Young Wizard Brain - Mashed."
The match against the Wigtown Wanderers had been close when Roger.... well he didn't remember exactly what happened. They just needed three more goals before it wouldn't matter which Seeker caught the Snitch. Games like that were what Roger lived for. A Seeker had to catch one ball, once. The Chasers had to put 15 more through the hoops than the other team. And now he was benched for the Wimbourne Wasps game. He felt horribly discouraged and depressed.
That evening, his mother called the Knight Bus and promised the Healer that she was taking him home with her for the week. He couldn't apparate or floo yet and no one was about to let him fly. His Levenbolt was kindling. His mother insisted he lay on the creaky smelly Knight Bus bed for the trip. Turning his back to her, he pretended to nap, so that she would stop nattering at him, but he watched the other passengers through his lashes.