The sounds drums peaked through the crowd's cheers.
"Morning, people," said Quinn breathing a cold cloud on the mic in front of him. "It's exciting today, isn't it? It's the last game before Christmas, and who better to watch on this occasion than the bitter rivals, Gryffindor and Slytherin— two houses thirsty for others' blood, willing to gut stomach, break bones, and slit throats to quench that thirst."
"Mr. West! Mind your language, please. . . !"
The reds-and-golds in the Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium roared to show their support while the opposing green-and-silvers booed in response to their rivals. The energy in the stands seemed to heat the cold stadium up.
"Apologies, professor," said Quinn, smiling. "But it's true that this game is going to be a heated one— the Gryffindor versus Slytherin are always a spectacle and have given Hogwarts a lot of their memorable games. So to commemorate this game and bring some flavor to the commentary side of things, I will be joined by a special guest in the commentary box.
Would you say hello to the spectators and introduce yourself," Quinn looked at his side and asked.
"How's it going, people?" the guest's voice momentarily sent the crowd in silence as their eyes turned to squint at the commentary booth through their omnioculors, where after their eyes widened behind the lenses.
"You probably recognize me as the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, defending champions, and the future champions of this season — for those who have been living under a rock, the name's Eddie Carmichael, position Chaser— the best there is. . . outside the field, I'm an overall outstanding bloke, so yeah. . . happy to be here."
There was a short bout of laughter from the blue-and-bronze before the other three drowned them out with a massive chorus of boos.
"Mr. Carmichael, please restrain from riling up the crowd," said McGonagall.
Eddie turned to face the Deputy Headmistress. "Can I not do that. . . I will go easy on Gryffindor if you just look the away and maybe pretend not to hear me. . . how about it?" he pumped his brows with a charming smile.
McGonagall's face through a journey. "T-That. . . go easy you say— No! Mr. Carmichale, d-don't try to compromise the integrity of the sport! Now, don't deliberately try to provoke the crowd, or I will be forced to kick you out!!" She turned to Quinn, "Mr. West, please keep your friend under control!"
"I make no promises, ma'am," Quinn laughed. "The world of sports is a passionate one. Things can go off the rails in the heat of the moment— I apologize in advance for those moments."
"Me too. I apologize if I drop the bitter truth more than a couple times during the game," said Eddie.
McGonagall stared at the two commentators anxiously. She looked like she regretted giving Quinn permission to bring on Eddie as the guest commentator.
"Now then, let's get started," said Quinn and looked up at the blue sky with thin clouds carelessly floating. "Conditions are ideal for a fantastic game. Though that can't be said about the Slytherin team, they aren't looking good going into the game.
Slytherin Chaser Vaisey — he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play. . ."
"Uuuh, that's bad; he's Slytherin's best scorer," said Eddie, rubbing the back of his head. "I once took a Bludger to the back of my head— nasty business, I wasn't able to walk straight for a while even after getting healed by Madam Pomfrey."
"Even Slytherin Chaser Draco Malfoy feeling sick, and thus won't be playing," Quinn rapped his finger on the table. "Well, it seems Slytherin would be playing with two substitutes. . ."
"That's great for Gryffindor, innit," Eddie announced, "they're playing Hachet in Malfoy's place, and I have seen him play— he's an idiot, to put it mildly."
"Mr. Carmichael!"
Quinn smiled back vaguely.
"Well, the Gryffindor doesn't look that good," Eddie continued. "This year's team is really wet behind their year. The backbone of the team graduated last year, leaving behind big shoes to fill— Demelza and Fey. . . was it those two— the new Chasers, they don't look that durable— I fear they will snap from one hit from the Bludger."
The teams walked onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: Amidst all the yelling and clapping, the roar of Luna's famous lion-topped headpiece could be heard.
"Ah, the Captains are shaking hands," said Quinn, returning back to Quidditch. "Hmm. . . the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart, what do you think of him, Eddie?"
"He's one crafty bastard," Eddie said and faced a shout from behind and boos from the front, "he's also built like a fat cow; you can't just tip him over— I tried to crash into him last year, you know to push him away, but the freaking mass of meat wouldn't budge— good thing he's slow on the broom."
The whistle sounded, and the players kicked off hard from the frozen ground and launched into the air.
"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Weasley's shit performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help. . . ."
These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Even Harry, for a moment, stopped seeking for the Snitch and craned on his broom to give the middle finger to the commentator's podium.
Eddie grabbed the mic and spoke loudly. "Potter, are you giving the finger to your mother? That's terrible manners; you're making your mum ashamed. Ouch! Professor McGonagall— did you just hit me with a pinching hex. . .! AAAah, OkAy, OKAY! I will tone it down!!!"
Quinn glanced behind towards the Professor's section and saw Lily Potter massaging her forehead.
"Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Connot streaking down the pitch and —"
Quinn turned back towards Quidditch; at this rate, Eddie was going to take his job.
"— Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose. . . ."
With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor led sixty points to zero, Ron made some truly spectacular saves, and Ginny scored four of Gryffindor's six goals. Their performance was great enough for Eddie to get off their back.
"So, how do you think the two newer Weasley doing?" asked Quinn.
Eddie crossed his arms, his eyes following Ginny, studying her moves. "They are effective. . . not as efficient as the Weasley twins, but they're doing well. . . for now."
"Do you now feel that this Gryffindor is one that will give Ravenclaw challenge for the Quidditch Cup this season? They look pretty good to me," Quinn said, gaining him loud support of the Gryffindor side.
"Pfft! Yeah, right, don't joke with me, mate," Eddie snorted. "The Weasley girl is better suited as a Seeker; her speed would only do her so good as a Chaser, she would go flying in a Chaser-tussle. As for Weasley, even if he managed to turn himself in a wall from the sieve he was, I would just need to punch new holes into that wall to score."
It seemed as though Gryffindor could do no wrong. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron saved goals with apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of cheers.
"And, I think Hatch of Slytherin has seen the Snitch," said Quinn through his mic. "Yes, Slytherin has spotted the Snitch, and. . . Potter is now on Hatch's tail. . . it's confirmed the Snitch has been spotted.
This could be it, people. If Hatch gets the Snitch, he would erase his team's terrible performance and win the game in a swoop, and if he let Potter get, Gryffindor would secure a dominating win, utterly embarrassing Slytherin in doing so."
Harry gained on Hatch, who purposely collided with Harry when he noticed Hooch's turned back (focused on other parts of the game), nearly knocking the Gryffindor Seeker off. The reds in the crowd shouted in anger, but by the time Hooch looked, Hatch had already sped off.
"It seems Slytherin is going to win a great upset!" said Quinn.
Harry accelerated, and at the same time, gained altitude. He arched his shoulder and bent his back forward to achieve maximum speed. Hachet, who was still flying ahead with a substantial lead, was struggling with his hand outstretched, his fingers time and time again missing the agile Snitch.
"Potter's catching up!" he heard Eddie's voice in between the fluttering winds. He turned to look back, and that was his mistake as Harry zoomed past him in his momentary distraction from the Snitch.
"Potter's got it! The Sunuvabitch's got the Snitch! Gryffindor has their victory!!! The game's over!!!"
As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.
- (Scene Break) -
A day after the Quidditch game was the last day of the first term at Hogwarts and the start of the winter break. Students were looking forward to returning to their family for Christmas and New Years, while some would remain in the castle and spend their year-end with other students.
Quinn sat in his office, looking at his desk— it was empty without a single trinket on it. He would clear out his desk. . . his entire office and workshop whenever he went back home for the winter break as he was going to do tomorrow, but today, this time, it was different.
It was his last day at AID.
The door opened, the chime rang, and Astoria came walking into the office.
"You called?" she asked, raising the black leather band with a silver chip on it— the standard-issue communicator for AID members.
Quinn gestured to the seat on the other side of the table, opposite to him.
"Today's the last day here," said Quinn with a small smile. "After today, when you return to Hogwarts after the break, you'll be in charge. I won't be stepping inside this room if not for needing AID's consult."
As per the agreement and arrangement, Quinn was going to officially retire today.
"You can still use the workshop, you know," Astoria said. "You're the one who uses it the most among the three of us."
Quinn shook his head. He knew if he was inside the workshop, he would end up taking over the office again when someone came in for a consult. And if that happened, AID wouldn't truly be Astoria's. It was better for him to cut the connection clean with a single slash.
"It's fine. . . I have my own personal workshop where I can work in," said Quinn. He had a fully functioning workshop in his briefcase used to work on some of the more. . . sensitive projects.
"Nevertheless, it goes without saying, you can return any time," said Astoria. "Now, you said that you wanted to talk about something important; what is it?"
Quinn opened the drawer and took out a large yellow envelope, and from the looks of the inflation of the envelope, there was a stack of papers inside. He pushed the envelope towards Astoria.
"What's this?" she asked.
"That's the document of a new vault I have opened up in Gringotts," said Quinn. "A vault to be used by AID."
"Eh, why do we need a vault?" Astoria was confused. "We have the safe in the workshop floor, and that's more than enough— why would we need a vault in Gringotts?"
"Yes, that safe is more than enough for our use," Quinn chuckled, remembering how excited he was building that safe. "But this is a different matter. . .
Running AID is financially tricky, Astoria. You know we don't make much, and for most of the months we are in red, only to break even before the exam season. . . looking at that, I have decided to open a support fund for AID."
"A support fund?"
"Yes, a fund that would be accessible by the proprietor of AID, which is currently you, with gold in there to be used for AID activities— you can use them for consults, replenish the workshop supplies and expansion, for promotion activities, or any other AID related venture you start. . . and more importantly, you can use it to fund your personal projects," said Quinn. "I would replenish it every month with a set amount and ask no questions on how you decide to spend it. I trust that you would use the gold responsibly."
". . . But why? You managed fine enough; I can do the same," Astoria pushed the envelope back towards Quinn, frowning. "I don't need this."
"I understand that," said Quinn, pushing the envelope forward again, "and I'm not saying that you're not capable; it's just an incentive that I have decided to add for the proprietor of AID. If you don't want to use the fund, then I am fine with it. . . every month, the vault would be replenished to have a set amount."
Astoria didn't look satisfied but nodded after a sigh.
"I'll think about it," she said.
"Sure, please do think about it," said Quinn and stood up to finally leave. "Now, I will take my leave."
Astoria stood up and nodded.
Quinn walked to the coat hanger by the door and pulled his robe off. He turned to look at his office as he put on his robe— the desk he made on his own, the paintings he bought from the non-magical world, the plants he had mutated in his Herbology experiments, the glass wall, the bookshelf with some of the essential books, and the trinkets around the office which he had collected over the years.
"Alright, good luck, Astoria; I hope you'd change AID so that it would become yours," he said. "Don't worry about keeping things the same because of me and give it your own flavor."
Astoria nodded.
Quinn smiled and walked out of the door.
Outside in the corridor, he closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh. It was over. A chapter of his life was done— a chapter he thought was very significant.
"Hmm?"
He turned and saw Luna leaning against a wall. She looked up, walked over to him, and stared at him.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I want to eat ice cream," she said, "walk with me to the kitchen."
Quinn blinked in surprise before a smile appeared on his face.
"Sure, let's go," he said, "I'm also in the mood of ice cream. . . I wonder what flavors do they have right now."
"I want to eat Eggnog flavor ice cream," she said. "Which one do you want?"
Quinn put an arm around Luna as they start walking. "Hmm. . . I am in the mood for Vanilla, Chocolate, and Butterscotch. . . I am going to take a big scoop of all three."
"Three! That. . . that's so many! Your tummy would hurt!" Luna gasped.
"It's okay; I'm a big boy now. I can handle it," Quinn laughed.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
Quinn West - MC - "Us old guys must step aside for the young'uns to take over."
Luna Lovegood - AID member - A very cwute and lobely friend.
Eddie Carmichael - Guest Commentator - Zero stage fear.
Astoria Greengrass - AID Proprietor - Start of a New Era.
The sounds drums peaked through the crowd's cheers.
"Morning, people," said Quinn breathing a cold cloud on the mic in front of him. "It's exciting today, isn't it? It's the last game before Christmas, and who better to watch on this occasion than the bitter rivals, Gryffindor and Slytherin— two houses thirsty for others' blood, willing to gut stomach, break bones, and slit throats to quench that thirst."
"Mr. West! Mind your language, please. . . !"
The reds-and-golds in the Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium roared to show their support while the opposing green-and-silvers booed in response to their rivals. The energy in the stands seemed to heat the cold stadium up.
"Apologies, professor," said Quinn, smiling. "But it's true that this game is going to be a heated one— the Gryffindor versus Slytherin are always a spectacle and have given Hogwarts a lot of their memorable games. So to commemorate this game and bring some flavor to the commentary side of things, I will be joined by a special guest in the commentary box.
Would you say hello to the spectators and introduce yourself," Quinn looked at his side and asked.
"How's it going, people?" the guest's voice momentarily sent the crowd in silence as their eyes turned to squint at the commentary booth through their omnioculors, where after their eyes widened behind the lenses.
"You probably recognize me as the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, defending champions, and the future champions of this season — for those who have been living under a rock, the name's Eddie Carmichael, position Chaser— the best there is. . . outside the field, I'm an overall outstanding bloke, so yeah. . . happy to be here."
There was a short bout of laughter from the blue-and-bronze before the other three drowned them out with a massive chorus of boos.
"Mr. Carmichael, please restrain from riling up the crowd," said McGonagall.
Eddie turned to face the Deputy Headmistress. "Can I not do that. . . I will go easy on Gryffindor if you just look the away and maybe pretend not to hear me. . . how about it?" he pumped his brows with a charming smile.
McGonagall's face through a journey. "T-That. . . go easy you say— No! Mr. Carmichale, d-don't try to compromise the integrity of the sport! Now, don't deliberately try to provoke the crowd, or I will be forced to kick you out!!" She turned to Quinn, "Mr. West, please keep your friend under control!"
"I make no promises, ma'am," Quinn laughed. "The world of sports is a passionate one. Things can go off the rails in the heat of the moment— I apologize in advance for those moments."
"Me too. I apologize if I drop the bitter truth more than a couple times during the game," said Eddie.
McGonagall stared at the two commentators anxiously. She looked like she regretted giving Quinn permission to bring on Eddie as the guest commentator.
"Now then, let's get started," said Quinn and looked up at the blue sky with thin clouds carelessly floating. "Conditions are ideal for a fantastic game. Though that can't be said about the Slytherin team, they aren't looking good going into the game.
Slytherin Chaser Vaisey — he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play. . ."
"Uuuh, that's bad; he's Slytherin's best scorer," said Eddie, rubbing the back of his head. "I once took a Bludger to the back of my head— nasty business, I wasn't able to walk straight for a while even after getting healed by Madam Pomfrey."
"Even Slytherin Chaser Draco Malfoy feeling sick, and thus won't be playing," Quinn rapped his finger on the table. "Well, it seems Slytherin would be playing with two substitutes. . ."
"That's great for Gryffindor, innit," Eddie announced, "they're playing Hachet in Malfoy's place, and I have seen him play— he's an idiot, to put it mildly."
"Mr. Carmichael!"
Quinn smiled back vaguely.
"Well, the Gryffindor doesn't look that good," Eddie continued. "This year's team is really wet behind their year. The backbone of the team graduated last year, leaving behind big shoes to fill— Demelza and Fey. . . was it those two— the new Chasers, they don't look that durable— I fear they will snap from one hit from the Bludger."
The teams walked onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: Amidst all the yelling and clapping, the roar of Luna's famous lion-topped headpiece could be heard.
"Ah, the Captains are shaking hands," said Quinn, returning back to Quidditch. "Hmm. . . the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart, what do you think of him, Eddie?"
"He's one crafty bastard," Eddie said and faced a shout from behind and boos from the front, "he's also built like a fat cow; you can't just tip him over— I tried to crash into him last year, you know to push him away, but the freaking mass of meat wouldn't budge— good thing he's slow on the broom."
The whistle sounded, and the players kicked off hard from the frozen ground and launched into the air.
"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Weasley's shit performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help. . . ."
These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Even Harry, for a moment, stopped seeking for the Snitch and craned on his broom to give the middle finger to the commentator's podium.
Eddie grabbed the mic and spoke loudly. "Potter, are you giving the finger to your mother? That's terrible manners; you're making your mum ashamed. Ouch! Professor McGonagall— did you just hit me with a pinching hex. . .! AAAah, OkAy, OKAY! I will tone it down!!!"
Quinn glanced behind towards the Professor's section and saw Lily Potter massaging her forehead.
"Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Connot streaking down the pitch and —"
Quinn turned back towards Quidditch; at this rate, Eddie was going to take his job.
"— Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose. . . ."
With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor led sixty points to zero, Ron made some truly spectacular saves, and Ginny scored four of Gryffindor's six goals. Their performance was great enough for Eddie to get off their back.
"So, how do you think the two newer Weasley doing?" asked Quinn.
Eddie crossed his arms, his eyes following Ginny, studying her moves. "They are effective. . . not as efficient as the Weasley twins, but they're doing well. . . for now."
"Do you now feel that this Gryffindor is one that will give Ravenclaw challenge for the Quidditch Cup this season? They look pretty good to me," Quinn said, gaining him loud support of the Gryffindor side.
"Pfft! Yeah, right, don't joke with me, mate," Eddie snorted. "The Weasley girl is better suited as a Seeker; her speed would only do her so good as a Chaser, she would go flying in a Chaser-tussle. As for Weasley, even if he managed to turn himself in a wall from the sieve he was, I would just need to punch new holes into that wall to score."
It seemed as though Gryffindor could do no wrong. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron saved goals with apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of cheers.
"And, I think Hatch of Slytherin has seen the Snitch," said Quinn through his mic. "Yes, Slytherin has spotted the Snitch, and. . . Potter is now on Hatch's tail. . . it's confirmed the Snitch has been spotted.
This could be it, people. If Hatch gets the Snitch, he would erase his team's terrible performance and win the game in a swoop, and if he let Potter get, Gryffindor would secure a dominating win, utterly embarrassing Slytherin in doing so."
Harry gained on Hatch, who purposely collided with Harry when he noticed Hooch's turned back (focused on other parts of the game), nearly knocking the Gryffindor Seeker off. The reds in the crowd shouted in anger, but by the time Hooch looked, Hatch had already sped off.
"It seems Slytherin is going to win a great upset!" said Quinn.
Harry accelerated, and at the same time, gained altitude. He arched his shoulder and bent his back forward to achieve maximum speed. Hachet, who was still flying ahead with a substantial lead, was struggling with his hand outstretched, his fingers time and time again missing the agile Snitch.
"Potter's catching up!" he heard Eddie's voice in between the fluttering winds. He turned to look back, and that was his mistake as Harry zoomed past him in his momentary distraction from the Snitch.
"Potter's got it! The Sunuvabitch's got the Snitch! Gryffindor has their victory!!! The game's over!!!"
As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.
- (Scene Break) -
A day after the Quidditch game was the last day of the first term at Hogwarts and the start of the winter break. Students were looking forward to returning to their family for Christmas and New Years, while some would remain in the castle and spend their year-end with other students.
Quinn sat in his office, looking at his desk— it was empty without a single trinket on it. He would clear out his desk. . . his entire office and workshop whenever he went back home for the winter break as he was going to do tomorrow, but today, this time, it was different.
It was his last day at AID.
The door opened, the chime rang, and Astoria came walking into the office.
"You called?" she asked, raising the black leather band with a silver chip on it— the standard-issue communicator for AID members.
Quinn gestured to the seat on the other side of the table, opposite to him.
"Today's the last day here," said Quinn with a small smile. "After today, when you return to Hogwarts after the break, you'll be in charge. I won't be stepping inside this room if not for needing AID's consult."
As per the agreement and arrangement, Quinn was going to officially retire today.
"You can still use the workshop, you know," Astoria said. "You're the one who uses it the most among the three of us."
Quinn shook his head. He knew if he was inside the workshop, he would end up taking over the office again when someone came in for a consult. And if that happened, AID wouldn't truly be Astoria's. It was better for him to cut the connection clean with a single slash.
"It's fine. . . I have my own personal workshop where I can work in," said Quinn. He had a fully functioning workshop in his briefcase used to work on some of the more. . . sensitive projects.
"Nevertheless, it goes without saying, you can return any time," said Astoria. "Now, you said that you wanted to talk about something important; what is it?"
Quinn opened the drawer and took out a large yellow envelope, and from the looks of the inflation of the envelope, there was a stack of papers inside. He pushed the envelope towards Astoria.
"What's this?" she asked.
"That's the document of a new vault I have opened up in Gringotts," said Quinn. "A vault to be used by AID."
"Eh, why do we need a vault?" Astoria was confused. "We have the safe in the workshop floor, and that's more than enough— why would we need a vault in Gringotts?"
"Yes, that safe is more than enough for our use," Quinn chuckled, remembering how excited he was building that safe. "But this is a different matter. . .
Running AID is financially tricky, Astoria. You know we don't make much, and for most of the months we are in red, only to break even before the exam season. . . looking at that, I have decided to open a support fund for AID."
"A support fund?"
"Yes, a fund that would be accessible by the proprietor of AID, which is currently you, with gold in there to be used for AID activities— you can use them for consults, replenish the workshop supplies and expansion, for promotion activities, or any other AID related venture you start. . . and more importantly, you can use it to fund your personal projects," said Quinn. "I would replenish it every month with a set amount and ask no questions on how you decide to spend it. I trust that you would use the gold responsibly."
". . . But why? You managed fine enough; I can do the same," Astoria pushed the envelope back towards Quinn, frowning. "I don't need this."
"I understand that," said Quinn, pushing the envelope forward again, "and I'm not saying that you're not capable; it's just an incentive that I have decided to add for the proprietor of AID. If you don't want to use the fund, then I am fine with it. . . every month, the vault would be replenished to have a set amount."
Astoria didn't look satisfied but nodded after a sigh.
"I'll think about it," she said.
"Sure, please do think about it," said Quinn and stood up to finally leave. "Now, I will take my leave."
Astoria stood up and nodded.
Quinn walked to the coat hanger by the door and pulled his robe off. He turned to look at his office as he put on his robe— the desk he made on his own, the paintings he bought from the non-magical world, the plants he had mutated in his Herbology experiments, the glass wall, the bookshelf with some of the essential books, and the trinkets around the office which he had collected over the years.
"Alright, good luck, Astoria; I hope you'd change AID so that it would become yours," he said. "Don't worry about keeping things the same because of me and give it your own flavor."
Astoria nodded.
Quinn smiled and walked out of the door.
Outside in the corridor, he closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh. It was over. A chapter of his life was done— a chapter he thought was very significant.
"Hmm?"
He turned and saw Luna leaning against a wall. She looked up, walked over to him, and stared at him.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I want to eat ice cream," she said, "walk with me to the kitchen."
Quinn blinked in surprise before a smile appeared on his face.
"Sure, let's go," he said, "I'm also in the mood of ice cream. . . I wonder what flavors do they have right now."
"I want to eat Eggnog flavor ice cream," she said. "Which one do you want?"
Quinn put an arm around Luna as they start walking. "Hmm. . . I am in the mood for Vanilla, Chocolate, and Butterscotch. . . I am going to take a big scoop of all three."
"Three! That. . . that's so many! Your tummy would hurt!" Luna gasped.
"It's okay; I'm a big boy now. I can handle it," Quinn laughed.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
Quinn West - MC - "Us old guys must step aside for the young'uns to take over."
Luna Lovegood - AID member - A very cwute and lobely friend.
Eddie Carmichael - Guest Commentator - Zero stage fear.
Astoria Greengrass - AID Proprietor - Start of a New Era.
