The owl had come three days earlier: members of the flying club and house quidditch teams had been invited to a summer race in Hawthorne Hollow. With broomsticks involved, Louisa Weasley's father had thought nothing of letting his eldest attend, though had seemed slightly disheartened when the Hufflepuff had said she did not wish for him to attend and watch.

In the end, it was perhaps a dozen students (and one nanny; Lou felt for the poor child whose parents had insisted they have a babysitter) who gathered in the hollow near the Howlers' stadium—and far enough from Irvingly that they wouldn't get into trouble for horrifying the muggles.

The petite redhead had mounted her broom, taken off, and grinned broadly as she had felt the wind upon her freckled face, racing her way through the pre-determined course. Not one to showboat or take undue risk, Lousia started off at the middle of the pack before gradually overtaking those ahead. Though she had attended for the joy of flying, rather than anything resembling a competitive streak, the Hufflepuff realized that she was only just behind the leader. She moved to overtake him and—

BAM!

The boy flew into Louisa, sending her off-course and into the trees. Broomstick reeling, the young witch slipped from it, landing with very little ceremony and substantially bruised pride into the nearby bushes.