Elliot Phippen

Nov. 8, 2020, 5:02 p.m.

You need the eye of the tiger

Broom in hand, Elliot was all ready to practice Seeking (not that he didn’t get enough practice during Aquila team exercises, but sometimes it was just nice to hunt the Snitch when there was no chance of an iron ball whacking you in the back) when he noticed a dead body lying in the grass on the Pitch.

This was worth investigating, especially because—Elliot realized as he got closer—the body was Eugene’s. It had been hard to tell at a distance because the other boy wasn’t wearing his glasses, but that was definitely Eugene’s curly hair and stupid cute face and shirtless torso. And his stomach was rising and falling so that meant he was not dead, just asleep. Alone. In the middle of the Quidditch Pitch.

So Elliot did what any good friend would do: he put his broom on the ground and laid down alongside Eugene. Like that one episode of Scrubs where JD knocked himself out trying to play basketball so Turk laid down on the ground next to him in the parking lot so everyone would think they were just chilling. Elliot had no idea what Eugene had been doing beforehand, but if he’d knocked himself out on a goalpost or something (which Elliot wouldn’t put it past Eugene to do) that would be hella embarrassing and as a friend, Elliot needed to help.

Except that Elliot really did want to chill with Eugene (specifically, with a Eugene who was conscious and talking and stuff), and he had no patience, so he’d only been lying there with his arms crossed behind his head for a few moments before he started to get bored. He tried to look for pictures in the clouds, but they were all just cloud-shaped. He fidgeted with his broom, smoothing down all the twigs at the bottom so none of them were rucked up. He plucked a wide, flat blade of grass from the ground and did the harmonica thing with it, with squeaky success.

Then he decided Eugene had been sleeping long enough. Using the blade of grass that was no longer a harmonica, Elliot tried to get Eugene’s attention by poking him in the ear. “Psst,” he hissed. “Wake up.” When that still didn’t seem to have worked, he yelled, “Look, a ghost!” That would definitely wake Eugene all the way up.

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Rocky Balboa - eat your heart out - Eugene Hardie || October 18
You need the eye of the tiger - Elliot Phippen || November 08