 Bathes in Maple Syrup | Dancing Lobster | Moy Pomidor | Seneca's Beard | That Is So Fetch!
Rajan had played enough Gobstones for Ravenclaw by now that he didn't need to be nervous.
Yet there he stood, arms loosely folded as Professor Menon explained the rules, he found himself mentally calculating approximately seventeen different ways he could embarrass himself. Missing completely was the obvious one. Somehow sending his marble backward was less probable, but Rajan wasn't ruling anything out. He had a talent for discovering new possibilities.
His attention shifted to Professor Menon when the instructions began. Regular marbles instead of Gobstones. Brilliant. At least if a shot went horribly wrong, he wouldn't also spend the rest of the day smelling like he'd been standing beside something left to ferment since the summer solstice.
When his turn came, Rajan approached the chest and spent far too long considering the options before reminding himself that Professor Menon had just said it didn't matter which one he chose.
So he grabbed one at random.
"Okay," he murmured, moving toward the white line and rolling the marble between his fingers. He glanced toward the formation ahead, narrowed his eyes, and adjusted his stance.
Rajan crouched slightly and sent the marble toward the cluster, hoping it would hit something. Preferably several somethings.
Miguel had been looking forward to this.
He'd spent his first year going from what are Gobstones? to earning himself a reserve spot on Hufflepuff's team, and now he was back with considerably more confidence. He'd grown up playing las canicas, after all. Take away the foul-smelling liquid and Gobstones suddenly felt a lot more familiar, which is why Professor Menon's announcement that they'd be using ordinary marbles earned an immediate grin from him.
He listened closely to the rest of the instructions, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he studied the arrangement. It reminded him of bowling, just without the pins. Or maybe something more nautical, like firing a tiny cannon at an enemy fleet.
When his turn arrived, he eagerly plunged a hand into the chest.
"Ooh, this one!"
Had Professor Menon specifically said the appearance made absolutely no difference? Yes. Did Miguel still choose one he thought looked cool? Also yes.
He stepped up to the line, crouched, and held the marble between his fingers as he eyed the cluster ahead. Then he flicked it forward, watching eagerly to see how much damage he could do.
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