Narrative Essay Final Draft

Narrative Essay Final Draft

Today is Saturday, and that's when the weekly quiddich matches take place. Harry hasn't used me for a long time because he uses his doggone Nimbus every time. So when Harry lost his Nimbus, I was very pleased to have a rival removed. He used me today, so at first I was in a fairly good mood.

The game was about to begin, and I was admiring the huge, spacious stadium. Harry sat on me. Whoa! He must've had a lot of McDonalds since the last time he used me. I wasn't so happy after that. I flew up and prepped for the game. It was autumn and from the birds eye view, I could see Hogwarts, and the whomping willow was changing its shade of leaves to a bright tangerine orange.

The ref blew the whistle and the game started. It was against Hufflepuff. I flew in the quiddich stadium this way and that, dashing faster than the other brooms, who were evidently stunned with paranoia, admiring my amazing skills. I saw a Shortstick 50, which was a really old module. A bludger knocked off Ron Weasley. Luckily, Snape cushioned his fall.

The Broomysweep 600, from the opposing team knocked me, trying to get me. Fred received a pass from Bob and almost got it through the poles, when the keeper, Huffy Pufferhead, caught the ball. Harry was searching for the snitch. I felt the autumn breeze on my stomach. However, the rest of me did not feel so, as Harry's bottom weighted me down and polluted the air. I longed to gaze at the leaves or smell the air, but it filtered the wonderful aroma and brought in a weird scent.

He found the snitch! He ordered me to fly, and I did so, as fast as I could, the wind blowing into me as going to fast. There was a mosquito on my stomach, and it itched as its tiny legs tickled me. Meanwhile, Puffer McHuff threw the ball and scored as George, Griffindor’s keeper, wasn’t paying attention. I turned over to get rid of the mosquito, but then, Harry, who was riding too fast, lost his balance and almost fell. If he did fall, I would get blamed and I might be sent away, and I mean away. So I flew straight towards a bludger. It crashed straight into his face and he fell. Down and down and down... He was looking at me the whole time, yelling a lot of mean words. Then he crashed on concrete. It wasn't a pretty sight. Harry Potter was dead.

Luckily, I didn't get the blame. The bludger did, and it was taken away, far far away into the department of magic, probably the place where Ron Weasley’s dad works. I should be more careful. I don’t like playing quidditch anymore, because I just accidently killed one of the greatest heroes in the history of wizarding. Oh well, at least it wasn't me. Better luck next time.

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