When they got to the Murphys’ house, Isobel and the others immediately went out to the overgrown field they called their back garden, taking Martin with them. The back garden had always been their retreat: a place to play and talk, a spot to watch the sunset or the stars, and “ most often “ a Quidditch pitch. A wall of trees marked the boundary of the field, also serving the purpose of screening the activities that took place in it from view of the rest of the village, and near the house was a little shed where they kept their brooms. It held Isobel, John and Julia’s brooms during the summer as well; it saved them the effort of carrying them up the street, hiding them from Muggle eyes the whole way.
The eight of them sat down in the grass, and John and Isobel went straight for the attack.
“So you like Quidditch. Do you play?” John asked.
“A little. Well, a lot, really, but nothing serious.” Martin shrugged. “You’re heading for the tournament next year?”
“We want to be, but we’re short of a player,” Isobel said.
“But there are seven of you,” said Martin.
“I can’t play, though,” said Eleanor. “I’m not even a very good spectator of Quidditch. I mean, you learn some by accident, being around these guys, but I couldn’t tell you anything about strategy or anything.”
“What we mean to ask is, would you be at all interested in being our seventh player?” asked John.
“I guess I could try,” said Martin. “I’ll have to think about it. Don’t you want to see if I’m any good before you ask me to be on your team?”
“Of course, that’s why they wanted to come out here so badly,” said Julia. “This is where we play during the summer.”
“You can borrow my broom if you like,” said John. “I can sit this one out.”
“I’ll go and grab them,” volunteered Eleanor. Julia went off with her to help carry them.
“Three-a-side Quidditch, then,” said Isobel decisively. “What position do you prefer, Martin?”
“Keeper,” was his answer.
“Keeper it is, then. Andrew, you be Keeper for the other side. Me and Art can be Chasers on Andrew’s side, Cal and Julia on Martin’s side,” said Isobel.
“Do you guys always let her boss you around like that?” Martin asked Art, amazed.
Art shrugged and smiled. “It’s just what Isobel’s like. She’s always bossed us about, and most of the time, no one really minds.”
Julia and Eleanor came running back with the brooms, and Cal informed Julia, “You’re Chaser on my side. Martin’s our Keeper.”
“Thanks, Cal,” she said. “Here, Martin, this one’s John’s.” She handed him the broom, and then she and Eleanor passed the rest of the brooms they were holding out to their respective owners.
Eleanor tossed the battered old Quaffle to John. “You be referee. I just want to sit and watch.”
Isobel stopped Martin as he was about to take off. “Just remember, we have to fly kind of low “ there are Muggles out there and the Murphys don’t have the right kind of spells on this place to stop them seeing us if we go above tree level.”
“That’s how it is at home, too,” Martin said, and then he took to the air. The rest of them followed suit. Julia showed Martin the marked trees that served as goalposts, and they all took their places, ready for the game to start.
“Ready?” John shouted from the middle of their makeshift pitch, holding the Quaffle at arm’s length. They all shouted their assent back, and John tossed the Quaffle into the air, letting out a piercing whistle as he did so. He then ran to sit beside Eleanor, deftly avoiding Art’s feet as he dove to claim the Quaffle.
Art threw the Quaffle to Isobel, and Julia darted in to intercept it.
“Ha! That’s what you get for letting a Seeker play Chaser,” Julia taunted. She tossed the Quaffle to Cal, and he zipped over towards Andrew and threw the Quaffle at the tree, hard. Andrew dodged away from it, and then claimed that his survival instincts had taken over.
“This is why you’re not being Keeper when we play next summer,” said Cal as Andrew threw the Quaffle back into play. Isobel caught it, and zigzagged down the pitch towards Art.
She passed it to him, and he sped towards Martin, Isobel close behind, Julia and Cal flanking them. Art seemed to be on a collision course with Martin as he hefted the Quaffle and drew his arm back to throw it, now dangerously close to him “
“ And he swerved upwards, less than three feet from Martin’s nose, dropping the Quaffle into Isobel’s waiting hands. She threw the Quaffle towards the tree, grinning, sure that Martin would be too shocked to stop it, only to be surprised when he snapped John’s broom to the left and caught the Quaffle before it could pass him.
Cal cheered. “Good show, Martin! Between the two of us, we’ve got this in the bag!”
“What am I, chopped liver?” Julia asked mock-plaintively as she claimed the Quaffle.
The game continued, Cal’s experience as a Chaser, Julia’s speed and Martin’s deft saves offset by Art’s deviousness and Isobel’s natural skill at Chasing. When they stopped about an hour later, they were dead even, happy and just a little bit tired from the day’s excitement.
“You’re brilliant!” John said to Martin as he and the others came to sit down with him and Eleanor. “Now I really want you on our team.”
“Speaking of the team,” said Art, “have you thought of a name for us yet, Isobel?”
“Me?” asked Isobel, clearly surprised. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I suppose I was thinking we would all have a say. It’s our team, after all, not just mine.”
“The Eagles,” suggested Julia.
“The Elephants,” said Art.
“Or the Earwigs.” That was Julia again.
Art seemed quite struck with this. Andrew wasn’t so sure.
“Maybe not.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I’d really rather not be a kind of bug.”
“How about the Eyases?” Eleanor asked. This suggestion was greeted by a puzzled silence. Eleanor flushed and explained, “’Eyas’ is the word for a young hawk.”
“Too smart for us, baby sister,” said Art, reaching over to ruffle her hair. She wrinkled her nose at him. “The meaning’s marvelous, but who’d get it?”
“Does it have to alliterate?” asked Eleanor.
“Alliter-what?” asked Cal.
“Have the same letters at the beginnings of things. Like the Chudley Cannons, the Tutshill Tornadoes, the Norwich Natterjacks. That kind of thing,” said Eleanor. “I suppose it’s traditional, but isn’t it kind of cheesy, too?”
“I guess it doesn’t have to, er, alliterate,” said John. “How about the, I dunno, Heroes?”
“Heroes? Isn’t that overestimating ourselves a little?” asked Andrew.
“How about the Blackshucks?” said Martin, speaking for the first time since they’d started making suggestions.
“What’s a Blackshuck?” asked Eleanor, curious.
“It’s Black Shuck, really. It’s what my gran calls the Grim,” he replied. “Except it’s not always bad. Gran said a cousin of hers had a friend who was out walking alone one night, and a great black dog walked beside her the whole way. They found out later there was some sort of criminal loose on that road, and everyone said Black Shuck had protected her.”
“I like it,” said Julia. “It’s intimidating, but not completely evil.”
“The Eleigh St. Mary Blackshucks,” said Isobel. “It’s a bit of a mouthful, but it would be anyway. I like the idea. How’s everyone else feel?”
It became clear that everyone else felt that it was a perfect name.
“It’s decided, then,” said Isobel. “The Blackshucks it is.”
“So how are we gonna do this, Isobel?” asked Cal.
“Do this?”
“The team. We’ll have to practice, right? I mean, we can’t just…go and play. Not if we want to win.”
“Of course not,” said Isobel. “I thought we would just train when we had time, maybe by the lake or something. Practice different techniques and strategies, that kind of thing. Keep in shape. And then serious training once we get back home for the summer. We’ll need to be in top form for the tournament.”
“We’ve never really all been on one side before,” said Julia. “It’ll be different. Who will be in which position?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” said Isobel. “I think you and Cal should stick with the positions you’re used to having on your House teams “ so we’ve got a Seeker and a Chaser. I was on the fence about who to have as Keeper, but Martin’s already demonstrated that he’s really good, so if he doesn’t mind, he can take that position. Do you mind, by the way?” Martin shook his head, and Isobel continued. “I thought John and I could be Chasers, because we’re both good in that position, and Art’s aggressive when he wants to be so he’ll make a good Beater, and that leaves Andrew a Beater as well. Any objections?”
John looked doubtful, so Isobel said, “If you think you might not be good as a Chaser, think again. I know you’re Keeper half the time, but I like having you as Chaser; you think on your feet, and we work really well together. Plus, remember how good Martin was at Keeping?”
John shook his head and smiled. “You’re right. I’ll be fine as a Chaser, and Martin even better as Keeper.”
“Right. So, now that that’s settled,” said Isobel, “let’s go and see if dinner’s almost done. I’m famished.”