It felt like home. Being here, on the Quidditch pitch again, felt like home to him. The entire summer, Alastair had not stepped foot on the field and it felt like agony. He had, of course, been in the museum, and the Quidditch store thing, but being here was better than anything. Feeling the cold breeze sending his hair flying back, and the fresh air hit his lungs, the student found himself smiling as he stared up at the hoops in the sky.
Too bad that Quidditch wouldn't be on this year, what with the Triwizard Tournament and everything. Perhaps there was a high chance he could still practice at the weekends...maybe right now? There was nobody around, really, and the equipment was all put safely away. Nobody to bother him. So, smirking this time, Alastair made his way over to get his broom and fly around for a while. He hadn't done this for so long-three months was long to him-that he actually was afraid he might have forgotten how to do it. All good though; he was fine.
Going as high as he could, the Slytherin boy went through one of the hoops casually, as if he did it all the time, and then flew around the field, his mind full of Quidditch related stuff. Thank the Gods nobody was around, because if some teachers caught him he might have been in deep shit, seeing as he wasn't practicing with the entire team, and he would probably be suspected of bunking off. Thing which he never did! Well...he didn't do it most of the time anyway.
