'You trying to seduce me onto the League?' Fred shook his head slightly. 'I'm tempted, but I don't know if George would be. We have Wheezes and Never Land to look after.'
Fred wasn't accustomed to being beaten. Of course Oliver was a professional, but it didn't stop him being annoyed when the goal was saved. 'Have to understand Chasing to be a Beater.' Catching the Quaffle, he turned his broom and flew beck up the pitch, plotting his next move and tracking the Bludger’s progress. As it dived towards him, another powerful smash sent it slicing up and over the trees that bordered the pitch, blocking it from the house and main garden.
Perhaps he should think more like a Bludger... Kicking his broom forward, he picked up speed, banking high, forcing Oliver to look up if he wanted to keep track of him. Then he dropped, tipping the nose forward he accelerated into a dive heading straight for Oliver. Not the goals. Intimidating the goalie was an old trick, one that Flint had perfected over the years, though Olly had always been fairly unshakeable. There was a significant difference between Fred and Flint though, Fred wasn't as controlled.
His hair and robes whipped out behind him as he plummeted towards the Keeper. Thirty meters, twenty, ten at two meters away, he swerved left the tiniest ammount, getting past Oliver and tossing the quaffle through the hoop. 'YEAH!'
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