Hello everyone! I decided to start this story on a whim of mine… it's based loosely on the idea of an enchanted board game in Jumanji, but has its own decisive twist. At the moment, this is only a mini plot bunny, and I'm not sure if I'm even going to keep this story. But hopefully with enough responses from you all, and some creative ideas of my own, I will end up continuing with it. In the meantime…enjoy!
Legal Disclaimer: Although the story has nothing to do with the original board game The Game of Life, credit goes to the Hasbro Interactive company for the name.
They sat around the round, central table in the common room, grimly playing what had become the latest fad in the Wizarding World, a magic board game called The Game of Life. The game was supposed to be exciting, thrilling, exhilarating… but the mood that it normally called for was absent among the Slytherin Quidditch team, for their minds were preoccupied with the day's earlier events. Again, they had suffered a humiliating defeat from the Gryffindors….
"There they go…the Seekers are in a fight to the death for the Snitch! Oopsadaisy, Potter watch out there! And Potter's closing in, with Malfoy right behind him…Come on, Harry…" A pregnant silence…everyone was holding his or her breath… "AND GRYFFINDOR WINS!" A roar of applause erupted from the side of the stadium where crimson and gold flags were flying.
"Take that, you dirty, rotten, cheating scum! That teaches you to mess with Gryff— ow! Say, Professor, that was uncalled for!"
"Unbiased commentaries, Jordan! Do you hear me? UNBIASED!"
"Sure, Professor. Aww look at the ickle Slytherins…go home and cry to your mummies, now… off you go!"
The Slytherin team dismounted their brooms amidst the deafening cheers for the Gryffindors, who were soaring above the crowd pumping fists into the air, shouting joyously back to their adoring fans. And so Flint, Bole, Derrick, Bletchley, Montague, Warrington, and Malfoy left the field, shoulders slumped, heads low, and pride crushed…
"I want to KILL someone!" Flint suddenly shouted, giving the board a rough push so that it, along with its many game pieces, flew onto the floor.
"My words exactly," said an angry Montague, who had his arms crossed sullenly.
"What we need is revenge," announced Bole, "a sweet act of revenge."
"Bloody wonderful," said Flint dryly. "Have any of your...brilliant ideas?
"Have Snape schedule us for the field every day of the week," said Derrick, scratching his head. "Then the Gryffindors can't practice."
"Absolutely. Bloody. Brilliant." Flint rolled his eyes.
"Make them sick to their stomachs with food poisoning," suggested Bletchley, the Keeper.
"Not a bad idea," voiced Warrington, "No one will be able to prove it was us."
Flint chewed on the thought. "Perhaps... but I want something more... dramatic. Something more... cruel." He grinned wolfishly.
"I have a thought."
Six heads turned to look at the smallest member of the team, a boy who had remained silent until then, a boy who had a pale complexion and a cold, calculating look in his piercing grey eyes.
"Tell us." Flint's voice was soft, coaxing. There was a malicious glint in his eyes; he knew that whatever came out of the Seeker's mouth next would be good.
A cold half-smile appeared on Malfoy's face. He leaned closer to the others, elbows propped on the table surface. "Here's how it goes..."
The overturned gameboard lay forgotten on the floor, as if innocently unaware of the critical role it would come to play in the lives of seven Gryffindors...
"Ow, Fred, you prat! That hurts!"
The female Gryffindor team members met the male ones on their way out of their separate changing rooms. They stared at Oliver, who had just shouted, and at Fred, who had quickly tossed his chosen weapon at George in an effort to appear innocent.
"What hurts?" Katie asked Oliver, who had a pained expression on his face.
"He whipped me on the arse with his towel," Oliver grumbled, much to the amusement of the girls. Fred was looking very pleased with himself.
"Shall we head up to the dorms together?" he asked, gallantly extending his arm to Angelina, who smiled and took it. The entire team proceeded into the corridor, chatting and laughing. They paid no notice to the shadows in the hallway, which had darkened considerably by the time the Gryffindors' practice (which had lasted past sunset), was over.
They had just reached the end of the corridor when several dark figures appeared, blocking their way.
"Hey, what gives?" George protested, but that was all he could say before the menacing figures lifted their wands.
Seven voices echoed through the corridor. Seven bursts of light shot from the tips of the upraised wands toward the surprised Gryffindors. Seven gasps were emitted as each Gryffindor was struck in the chest, no longer able to move.
Harry had no trouble identifing the voice... The wand's thin light eerily illuminated the face of Draco Malfoy. "Hello, Potter," he said smoothly, half-smiling.
A succession of Lumos spells followed, and the entire group's faces became visible. The Gryffindors could only stare in shock, helpless, as the realization sank in... They were under the complete power of the Slytherin Quiddich Team.