It was not, strictly speaking, his area of expertise, but nonetheless Rex had nominated himself as en ersatz beater for Hufflepuff for the duration of the rather unconventional event. After a moment's head-start for the other participants—Rex noted quickly the positions of his fellow Badgers, though these would no doubt change rapidly—the beaters were allowed into the air, and the seventh year kicked off the ground as though he had been doing it all of his life (and not just the past decade or so).

It would not be normal bludgers but something with a bit less violence in them, which suited the Hufflepuff just fine. With any luck, they would be lighter, allowing his imperfect hits to sail just a bit farther.

A whistle pierced the air.

The not-quite-bludgers were off, and so was Rex, hand gripped tightly around the handle of his bat. At this height, a drop could be lethal to anyone below, and he was glad for the leather thong around his wrist that bound the two in case he should fumble.

The bat made contact, the ball sailing towards Pip Manwaring.