Wrong Gryffindor Quidditch Player PV Kyle D. Cl.

Kyle was in a particularly bad mood this morning. Despite his best efforts at training, and leading his team they lost again. Two matches have been played, and two matches have been lost. All that remained was one more game against Slytherin and their only hope now was simply not ending in last place. Despite the abysmal state of the team this year between their losses, and the number of players who had quit or simply just seemingly vanished he was determined not to go quietly into the night. He was a Lion after all, if he was going to go down it would be fighting.

Kyle got into his Crimson and Gold Quidditch robes and strapped his beater armor on securely, finishing off by clipping his Bat to his belt and grabbing his immaculately maintained Firebolt broom. Once he was set he made his way out of the tower and towards the Training pitch. Today wasn't the day for his team to practice, instead it was his own personal training to keep himself sharp and to burn off some of his excess energy and anger. Once on the pitch he went to the equipment shed and retrieved a ball box and went to the middle of the field to set it in place.

The plan today was strength and endurance. He was going to release one bludger and stand still to wait for it to come to him, then strike it as hard as he could. He would continue to battle the bludger until he couldn't lift his arm to swing the bat any longer. with a quick check for the direction of the wind and looking to the clouds for an idea on what weather lay in store he nodded to himself and opened the box and unchained the bludger, letting it rocket up and away. He watched it zoom around as it got his bearings before it finally came towards him.

Kyle Narrowed his eyes, tightened his grip on his bat, dug in his heels and turned his body as he put everything into his strike of the bludger, a loud CRACK breaking the silence of the field as the bludger was knocked away from him almost faster than it came at him in the first place.

Abilities in Effect: Obnoxiously Strong

The Slytherin froze in place and blinked when he first noticed someone coming on to the field. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he'd almost missed them entirely. Was that him? The robes were the right color and it was definitely a guy, but the way he stood and moved was all wrong.

Then again, the angry tension in that body certainly seemed characteristic of Rafael. Frowning with uncertainty and apprehension, Jack got up and briefly abandoned his book bag on the stands to head toward the pitch.

Where to start? What to say? What would he do if the other decided to leave upon seeing him there? Between trying to answer these questions and attempting to quell his stomach, which was tying itself in knots, Jack failed to see the other boy take out the bludger.

Even if he had, Quidditch was not a game he was terribly familiar with, nor interested in, so he had little idea of the very real danger he was about to expose himself to. The muggle-born had never really been all that fond of sports, much less team sports, so why bother learning about a wizarding one? He hadn't seen the merit in it.

If he had, however, he might have been able to discern that Rafael was a Chaser and this person was setting up to practice as a Beater. He also might have had prior warning that being around when a Beater was practicing probably wasn't the smartest idea without the proper protective gear, defense, or distance. As this wasn't the case, though, Jack was clueless and vulnerable.

He had made it to the pitch and begun to cross it to get to the figure draped in Quidditch robes when a crack like a gunshot caused him to drop flat on the ground. It was a good thing, too, because that bludger had been headed straight for his face.

"What the hell?!" he yelled at the young man he presumed was Rafael. "I know you hate me, but are you seriously trying to kill me? I just wanted to talk! Is that something you're even capable of, you muscle-minded idiot?"

They certainly hadn't been the words he had intended to come out when he meant to speak with the Gryffindor again, but shock from the assault and nerves from prior had made him loud-mouthed and put him on edge. The Slytherin picked himself up off the ground and dusted off his robes as he resumed the journey to his destination.

Unfortunately for him, the redhead had yet to discover that, being magical wizard balls, bludgers had a way of homing in on targets. Assuming the thing had simply stopped once gravity had caught up and momentum had run out, he had no inkling that it might have circled back and was in no way prepared for a second attack.

@Kyle DeRook

Moments after connecting with the Bludger and sending it hurtling away from him he noticed a pedestrian walking across the field, and if they weren't so quick to dive down would have taken a bludger to the face. Kyle knew from experience a bludger to the head was bad news. who the hell was this random person just strolling about like it was another day at the office?

"I know you hate me, but are you seriously trying to kill me?"

Kyle cocked an eyebrow at that. He hated a few people, but he was Pretty sure he hadn't met this kid, and as such had no real reason to hate him. Sure Kyle couldn't remember names for the life of him, but he could always remember a face. "If I was trying to kill ya, youd be dead drama queen. Who the fuck even are you?" his Irish accent was unmistakable as he spoke.

Then something caught his eye. Movement. His eyes locked onto it and he began to run forward, towards the red head student, the way it was coming it was moments away from creaming the poor kid who lacked situational awareness it seemed. "Get Down!" he dove and tackled the other boy, mere moments before the bludger whizzed diagonally through where he was just standing and smashed into the ground only to bounce right back up and shoot off into the sky once more.

"Never turn your back on a bludger You Langer!"

The Irish accent slanting the Quidditch player's words were Jack's first clue that something was wrong. Though he couldn't exactly place where it was from, Rafael's accent was defintely more Hispanic-sounding and his voice was entirely different. What was going on? If this wasn't Rafael, who was it?

Seemed like the other kid was wanting some answers himself. Shame of his stupid mistake flooded him, but he hardly had time to process it before the Gryffindor was barrelling straight at him. What in the hell...?! Jack was trying to decide whether to make a break for it himself, wondering if he could outrun the larger boy at that distance, when he caught his command to 'get down'. Huh? So he...wasn't trying to attack him?

The next thing he knew, the Slytherin was on the ground with the ash-brown-haired young man pinning him down and the vague memory of being tackled. It took a minute more for Jack to understand that the small crater in the ground where he'd just been standing had been caused by the ball that had nearly brained him when it had come at him the first time. But no one else was around to have hit it back, so how had it returned with such force and precision? It was like a living creature out for blood!

He was barely able to register the Gryffindor's warning words, much less what they meant. He didn't know what a bludger or a langer was, but from context clues, he was guessing the former was the murderous ball and the latter was an insult of some sort.

The color that had drained from him due to shock quickly returned several hues darker once he realized he was still under the other student and in very close proximity. As a 4'10" scrawny 11-year old, it wasn't as though he could shove the Quidditch player off him, particularly such a brawny one. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try to get a grip on the situation.

When he opened them again, he took note of the deep scar on the left side of the upperclassman's face. It stretched from his cheekbone all the way down to his jawline and Jack couldn't help but feel a shiver go down his spine. What could have caused such a gash? Had this student encountered something even more menacing than the murderous bludger ball?

A thought crossed his mind to thank the Gryffindor for getting him out of harm's way, but another, darker thought soon doused the first. Relief gave way to a flood of mixed emotions - anger, resentment, embarrassment, fear. Once again, Jack had been blindsided with what seemed to be a completely random act of kindness. And, as always, he had no defense against it.

So he panicked.

"Shit! Fuck!!" he hissed, struggling to get out from under his savior. "You bloody bastard! What'd you have to go and do that for?!"

With a yell of frustration, he snarled, "Do you have any idea what you just did?! You could have fucking died! And for what? Some stupid git you don't even know? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

The Slytherin shook his head as he tried to squirm away. "Don't go against your survival instincts just because some other moron doesn't pay enough attention to his! What if I'm an asshole? What if I deserved to die? What if the world would have been a better place for it and you just ruined all that?"

A part of him knew he was talking absolute nonsense now; that his ingratitude was exactly the opposite of what he should have been expressing. However, the simple realization of what had happened and what it meant for Jack was becoming a rather difficult pill to swallow. He was starting to wonder if he would have preferred to have just been smashed by the bludger. Then, at least, he wouldn't have owed this angry Gryffindor fool his life.

Jack was careful to repay all favors and gifts as quickly as possible. This was to ensure he was even with others and not in their debt because that fostered friendship - a thing he knew for a fact was dangerous and detrimental to one's health. However, a life debt was a little more difficult to repay. Unless there was some way Jack could contrive the stranger to nearly lose his life and save him at the last minute as he had been, the Slytherin couldn't see any way out of it. For all intents and purposes, his life now belonged to the Gryffindor.

This was a problem for many reasons. First and foremost, Jack was very careful not to get too close to anyone in order to keep from forming bonds or relationships that were too strong. Enemies were fine, but friends were a definite no-no. Friends made you care about them and caring was not something Jack could afford to do. Not when caring about a friend made you value their well-being over your own. It was completely illogical and went against the law of nature to put your own survival first and foremost. That made it detrimental to one's health.

This bond wasn't a friendship, exactly, but it still obligated Jack to look out for his rescuer's well-being over his own. He would also have to keep an eye on him and stay close, much like a friend would. If only he didn't have such a strict policy about repaying debts. Alas, he wouldn't have been able to maintain his dignity otherwise.

I'm so screwed, the redhead couldn't help thinking, over and over. He felt like a newly-caught genie suddenly bound to a master. And his captor hadn't even realized what he'd done. Jack wanted to beat his head against a wall. How could he have been so careless?!

"My name is Jack Burnett," he growled at the upperclassman through gritted teeth. "And now I owe you my fucking life."

@Kyle DeRook