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“Kennilworthy Whisp’s painstaking research has uncovered a veritable
treasure trove of hitherto unknown facts about the sport of warlocks.
A fascinating read.” — Bathilda Bagshot, author, A History of Magic
“Whisp has produced a thoroughly enjoyable book; Quidditch fans are
sure to find it both instructive and entertaining.”
— Editor, Which Broomstick
“The definitive work on the origins and history of Quidditch. Highly
recommended.” — Brutus Scrimgeour, author, The Beaters’ Bible
“Mr. Whisp shows a lot of promise. If he keeps up the good work, he
may well find himself sharing a photoshoot with me one of these days!”
— Gilderoy Lockhart, author, Magical Me
“Bet you anything it’ll be a best-seller. Go on, I bet you.”
— Ludovic Bagman, England and Wimbourne Wasps Beater
“I’ve read worse.”
— Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet
Text copyright © 2001 by J. K. Rowling. Illustrations and hand lettering copyright © 2001 by J. K. Rowling.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, a division of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC,
SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and the LANTERN LOGO are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc. HARRY
POTTER and all related characters, names, and related indicia are trademarks ofWarner Bros.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information
regarding permissions, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 555 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
Scholastic Inc. has arranged for twenty percent of the retail sales price less taxes from the sale of this book to go to Comic
Relief U. K.’s Harry’s Books fund. J. K. Rowling is donating all royalties to which she would be entitled. The purchase of this
book is not tax deductible. Comic Relief may be contacted at: Comic Relief, 5th Floor, Albert Embankment, London SEI 77P,
name in the United Sutes.
ISBN 0-439-32161-1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available
20 19 18 17 16 15 14
07 08 09
Printed in the United States and bound in Mexico 23
First hardcover boxset edition, September 2001
K
About the Author
ENNILWORTHY WHISP is a renowned Quidditch
-177expert (and, he says, fanatic). He is the author of many
Quidditch-related works, including The Wonder of Wigtown
Wanderers, He Flew Like a Madman (a biography of
“Dangerous” Dai Llewellyn) and Beating the Bludgers – A
Study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch.
Kennilworthy Whisp divides his time between his home
in Nottinghamshire and “wherever Wigtown Wanderers are
playing this week.” His hobbies include backgammon,
vegetarian cookery, and collecting vintage broomsticks.
Foreword
Contents
vii
1. The Evolution of the Flying Broomstick
2. Ancient Broom Games
3. The Game From Queerditch Marsh
4. The Arrival of the Golden Snitch
5. Anti-Muggle Precautions
6. Changes in Quidditch Since the
Fourteenth Century
Pitch
Balls
Players
Rules
Referees
7. Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland
8. The Spread of Quidditch Worldwide
9. The Development of the Racing Broom
10. Quidditch Today
vi
1
3
10
15
17
17
20
23
27
30
31
38
47
51
Foreword
Q UIDDIT CH THROU GH THE AGES is one of the most
popular titles in the Hogwarts school library. Madam Pince,
our librarian, tells me that it is “pawed about, dribbled on, and
generally maltreated” nearly every day – a high compliment for any
book. Anyone who plays or watches Quidditch regularly will relish
Mr. Whisp’s book, as do those of us interested in wider wizarding
history. As we have developed the game of Quidditch, so it has
developed us; Quidditch unites witches and wizards from all walks
of life, bringing us together to share moments of exhilaration,
triumph, and (for those who support the Chudley Cannons)
despair.
It was with some difficulty, I must own, that I persuaded Madam
Pince to part with one of her books so that it might be copied for
wider consumption. Indeed, when I told her it was to be made
available to Muggles, she was rendered temporarily speechless, and
neither moved nor blinked for several minutes. When she came to
herself she was thoughtful enough to ask whether I had taken leave
of my senses. I was pleased to reassure her on that point and went
on to explain why I had taken this unprecedented decision.
Muggle readers will need no introduction to the work of Comic
Relief U. K. (which, funnily enough, has nothing to do with the
American organization of the same name), so I now repeat my
explanation to Madam Pince for the benefit of witches and wizards
who have purchased this book. Comic Relief U. K. uses laughter to
fight poverty, injustice, and disaster. Widespread amusement is
converted into large quantities of money (over 250 million dollars
since they started in 1985 – which is the equivalent of over 174
million pounds or thirty-four million Galleons).
Everyone involved in getting this book to you, from the author to
the publisher to the paper suppliers, printers, binders, and
booksellers, contributed their time, energy, and materials free or at
a reduced cost, making it possible for twenty percent of the retail
vii
sales price less taxes from the sale of this book to go to a fund set
up in Harry Potter’s name by Comic Relief U. K. and J. K.
Rowling. This fund was designed specifically to help children in
need throughout the world. By buying this book – and I would
advise you to buy it, because if you read it too long without handing
over money you will find yourself the object of a Thief’s Curse –
you too will be contributing to this magical mission.
I would be deceiving my readers if I said that this explanation
made Madam Pince happy about handing over a library book to
Muggles. She suggested several alternatives, such as telling the
people from Comic Relief U. K. that the library had burned down,
or simply pretending that I had dropped dead without leaving
instructions. When I told her that on the whole I preferred my
original plan, she reluctantly agreed to hand over the book, though
at the point when it came to let go of it, her nerve failed her and I
was forced to prise her fingers individually from the spine.
Though I have removed the usual library book spells from this
volume, I cannot promise that every trace has gone. Madam Pince
has been known to add unusual jinxes to the books in her care. I
myself doodled absentmindedly on a copy of Theories of
Transubstantial Transfiguration last year and next moment found the
book beating me fiercely about the head. Please be careful how you
treat this book. Do not rip out the pages. Do not drop it in the
bath. I cannot promise that Madam Pince will not swoop down on
you, wherever you are, and demand a heavy fine.
All that remains is for me to thank you for supporting Comic
Relief U. K. and to beg Muggles not to try playing Quidditch at
home; it is, of course, an entirely fictional sport and nobody really
plays it. May I also take this opportunity to wish Puddlemere
United the best of luck next season.
viii
N
Chapter One
The Evolution of the Flying
Broomstick
o spell yet devised enables wizards to fly unaided in
-218human form. Those few Animagi who transform
into winged creatures may enjoy flight, but they are a
rarity. The witch or wizard who finds him- or herself
transfigured into a bat may take to the air, but, having a
bat’s brain, they are sure to forget where they want to go
the moment they take flight. Levitation is commonplace,
but our ancestors were not content with hovering five feet
from the ground. They wanted more. They wanted to fly
like birds, but without the inconvenience of growing
feathers.
We are so accustomed these days to the fact that every
wizarding household in Britain owns at least one flying
broomstick that we rarely stop to ask ourselves why.
Why should the humble broom have become the one object
legally allowed as a means of wizarding transport? Why
did we in the West not adopt the carpet so beloved of our
Eastern brethren? Why didn’t we choose to produce flying
barrels, flying armchairs, flying bathtubs – why brooms?
Shrewd enough to see that their Muggle neighbours
would seek to exploit their powers if they knew their full
1
extent, witches and wizards kept themselves to
themselves long before the International Statute of
Wizarding Secrecy came into effect. If they were to keep
a means of flight in their houses, it would necessarily be
something discreet, something easy to hide. The
broomstick was ideal for this purpose; it required no
explanation, no excuse if found by Muggles, it was easily
portable and inexpensive. Nevertheless, the first brooms
bewitched for flying purposes had their drawbacks.
Records show that witches and wizards in Europe were
using flying broomsticks as early as A.D. 962. A German
illuminated manuscript of this period shows three
warlocks dismounting from their brooms with looks of
exquisite discomfort on their faces. Guthrie Lochrin, a
Scottish wizard writing in 1107, spoke of the “splinter-
filled buttocks and bulging piles” he suffered after a short
broom ride from Montrose to Arbroath.
A medieval broomstick on display in the Museum of
Quidditch in London gives us an insight into Lochrin’s
discomfort (see Fig. A). A thick knotty handle of
unvarnished ash, with hazel twigs bound crudely to one
end, it is neither comfortable nor aerodynamic. The
charms placed upon it are similarly basic: It will only
move forwards at one speed; it will go up, down, and stop.
As wizarding families in those days made their own
brooms, there was enormous variation in the speed,
2
comfort, and handling of the transport available to them.
By the twelfth century, however, wizards had learned to
barter services, so that a skilled maker of brooms could
exchange them for the potions his neighbour might make
better than himself. Once broomsticks became more
comfortable, they were flown for pleasure rather than
merely used as a means of getting from point A to point B.
Chapter Two
Ancient Broom Games
B
room sports emerged almost as soon as broomsticks
-232were sufficiently advanced to allow fliers to turn
corners and vary their speed and height. Early wizarding
writings and paintings give us some idea of the games our
ancestors played. Some of these no longer exist; others
have survived or evolved into the sports we know today.
The celebrated annual broom race of Sweden dates
from the tenth century. Fliers race from Kopparberg to
3
Arjeplog, a distance of slightly over three hundred miles.
The course runs straight through a dragon reservation,
and the vast silver trophy is shaped like a Swedish Short-
Snout. Nowadays this is an international event and
wizards of all nationalities congregate at Kopparberg to
cheer the starters, then Apparate to Arjeplog to
congratulate the survivors.
The famous painting Gьnther der Gewalttдtige ist der Gewinner
(“Gunther the Violent Is the Winner”), dated 1105, shows
the ancient German game of Stichstock. A twenty-foot-
high pole was topped with an inflated dragon bladder.
One player on a broomstick had the job of protecting this
bladder. The bladder-guardian was tied to the pole by a
rope around his or her waist, so that he or she could not
fly further than ten feet away from it. The rest of the
players would take it in turns to fly at the bladder and
attempt to puncture it with the specially sharpened ends
of their brooms. The bladder-guardian was allowed to use
his or her wand to repel these attacks. The game ended
when the bladder was successfully punctured, or the
bladder-guardian had either succeeded in hexing all
opponents out of the running or collapsed from
exhaustion. Stichstock died out in the fourteenth century.
In Ireland the game of Aingingein flourished, the
subject of many an Irish ballad (the legendary wizard
Fingal the Fearless is alleged to have been an Aingingein
4
champion). One by one the players would take the Dom,
or ball (actually the gallbladder of a goat), and speed
through a series of burning barrels set high in the air on
stilts. The Dom was to be thrown through the final barrel.
The player who succeeded in getting the Dom through the
last barrel in the fastest time, without having caught fire
on the way, was the winner.
Scotland was the birthplace of what is probably the
most dangerous of all broom games – Creaothceann.
The game features in a tragic Gaelic poem of the eleventh
century, the first verse of which says, in translation:
The players assembled, twelve fine, hearty men,
They strapped on their cauldrons, stood poised to fly,
At the sound of the horn they were swiftly airborne
But ten of their number were fated to die.
Creaothceann players each wore a cauldron strapped to
the head. At the sound of the horn or drum, up to a
hundred charmed rocks and boulders that had been
hovering a hundred feet above the ground began to fall
towards the earth. The Creaothceann players zoomed
around trying to catch as many rocks as possible in their
cauldrons. Considered by many Scottish wizards to be
the supreme test of manliness and courage, Creaothceann
enjoyed considerable popularity in the Middle Ages,
5
despite the huge number of fatalities that resulted from it.
The game was made illegal in 1762, and though Magnus
“Dent-Head” Macdonald spearheaded a campaign for its
reintroduction in the 1960s, the Ministry of Magic
refused to lift the ban.
Shuntbumps was popular in Devon, England. This
was a crude form of jousting, the sole aim being to knock
as many other players as possible off their brooms, the last
person remaining on their broom winning.
Swivenhodge began in Herefordshire. Like
Stichstock, this involved an inflated bladder, usually a
pig’s. Players sat backwards on their brooms and batted
the bladder backwards and forwards across a hedge with
the brush ends of their brooms. The first person to miss
gave their opponent a point. First to reach fifty points was
the winner.
Swivenhodge is still played in England, though it has
never achieved much widespread popularity; Shuntbumps
survives only as a children’s game. At Queerditch Marsh,
however, a game had been created that would one day
become the most popular in the wizarding world.
6
Chapter Three
The Game From Queerditch Marsh
W
e owe our knowledge of the rude beginnings of
-232Quidditch to the writings of the witch Gertie
Keddle, who lived on the edge of Queerditch Marsh in the
eleventh century. Fortunately for us, she kept a diary, now
in the Museum of Quidditch in London. The excerpts
below have been translated from the badly spelled Saxon
of the original.
Tuesday. Hot. That lot from across the marsh have been at it
again. Playing a stupid game on their broomsticks. A big
leather ball landed in my cabbages. I hexed the man who
came for it. I’d like to see him fly with his knees on back to
front, the great hairy hog.
Tuesday. Wet. Was out on the marsh picking nettles.
Broomstick idiots playing again. Watched for a bit from
behind a rock. They’ve got a new ball. Throwing it to each
other and trying to stick it in trees at either end of the
marsh. Pointless rubbish.
Tuesday. Windy. Gwenog came for nettle tea, then invited
me out for a treat. Ended up watching those numbskulls
7
playing their game on the marsh. That big Scottish warlock
from up the hill was there. Now they’ve got two big, heavy
rocks flying around trying to knock them all off their
brooms. Unfortunately didn’t happen while I was watching.
Gwenog told me she often played herself. Went home in
disgust.
These extracts reveal much more than Gertie Keddle
could have guessed, quite apart from the fact that she only
knew the name of one of the days of the week. Firstly, the
ball that landed in her cabbage patch was made of leather,
as is the modern Quaffle – naturally, the inflated bladder
used in other broom games of the period would be
difficult to throw accurately, particularly in windy
conditions. Secondly, Gertie tells us that the men were
“trying to stick it in trees at either end of the marsh” –
apparently an early form of goal-scoring. Thirdly, she gives
us a glimpse of the forerunners of Bludgers. It is
immensely interesting that there was a “big Scottish
warlock” present. Could he have been a Creaothceann
player? Was it his idea to bewitch heavy rocks to zoom
dangerously around the pitch, inspired by the boulders
used in his native game?
We find no further mention of the sport played on
Queerditch Marsh until a century later, when the wizard
Goodwin Kneen took up his quill to write to his
8
Norwegian cousin Olaf. Kneen lived in Yorkshire, which
demonstrates the spread of the sport throughout Britain
in the hundred years after Gertie Keddle first witnessed
it. Kneen’s letter is deposited in the archives of the
Norwegian Ministry of Magic.
Dear Olaf,
How are you? I am well, though Gunhilda had got a
touch of dragon pox.
We enjoyed a spirited game of Kwidditch last Saturday
night, though poor Gunhilda was not up to playing Catcher,
and we had to use Radulf the blacksmith instead. The team
from Ilkley played well though was no match for us, for we
had been practising hard all month and scored forty-two
times. Radulf got a Blooder in the head because old Ugga
wasn’t quick enough with his club. The new scoring barrels
worked well. Three at each end on stilts, Oona from the inn
gave us them. She let us have free mead all night because we
won as well. Gunhilda was a bit angry I got back so late. I
had to duck a couple of nasty jinxes but I’ve got my fingers
back now.
I’m sending this with the best owl I’ve got, hope he makes it.
Your cousin,
Goodwin
Here we see how far the game has progressed in a century.
Goodwin’s wife was to have played “Catcher” – probably
the old term for Chaser. The “Blooder” (undoubtedly
9
Bludger) that hit Radulf the blacksmith should have been
fended off by Ugga, who was obviously playing Beater, as
he was carrying a club. The goals are no longer trees, but
barrels on stilts. One crucial element in the game was still
missing, however: the Golden Snitch. The addition of the
fourth Quidditch ball did not occur until the middle of the
thirteenth century and it came about in a curious manner.
Chapter Four
The Arrival of the Golden Snitch
F
rom the early 1100s, Snidget-hunting had been
-232popular among many witches and wizards. The
Golden Snidget (see Fig. B) is today a protected species,
but at that time Golden Snidgets were common in northern
Europe, though difficult to detect by Muggles because of
their aptitude at hiding and their very great speed.
The diminutive size of the Snidget, coupled with its
remarkable agility in the air and talent at avoiding
predators, merely added to the prestige of wizards who
caught them. A twelfth-century tapestry preserved in the
Museum of Quidditch shows a group setting out to catch
a Snidget. In the first portion of the tapestry, some
hunters carry nets, others use wands, and still others
attempt to catch the Snidget with their bare hands. The
10
tapestry reveals the fact that the Snidget was often
crushed by its captor. In the final portion of the tapestry
we see the wizard who caught the Snidget being presented
with a bag of gold.
Snidget-hunting was reprehensible in many ways. Every
right-minded wizard must deplore the destruction of
these peace-loving little birds in the name of sport.
Moreover, Snidget-hunting, which was usually under-
taken in broad daylight, led to more Muggle broomstick
sightings than any other pursuit. The Wizards’ Council of
the time, however, was unable to curb the sport’s
popularity – indeed, it appears that the Council itself saw
little wrong with it, as we shall see.
Snidget-hunting finally crossed paths with Quidditch in
1269 at a game attended by the Chief of the Wizards’
11
Council himself, Barberus Bragge. We know this because
of the eyewitness account sent by Madam Modesty
Rabnott of Kent to her sister Prudence in Aberdeen (this
letter is also on display in the Museum of Quidditch).
According to Madam Rabnott, Bragge brought a caged
Snidget to the match and told the assembled players that
he would award one hundred and fifty Galleons1 to the
player who caught it during the course of the game.
Madam Rabnott explains what happened next:
The players rose as one into the air, ignoring the
Quaffle and dodging the Blooders. Both Keepers
abandoned the goal baskets and joined the hunt. The
poor little Snidget shot up and down the pitch seeking
a means of escape, but the wizards in the crowd forced
it back with Repelling Spells. Well, Pru, you know
how I am about Snidget-hunting and what I get like
when my temper goes. I ran onto the pitch and
screamed, “Chief Bragge, this is not sport! Let the
Snidget go free and let us watch the noble game of
Cuaditch which we have all come to see!” If you’ll
believe me. Pru, all the brute did was laugh and
throuw the empty birdcage at me. Well, I saw red,
Pru, I really did. When the poor little Snidget flew
1. Equivalent to over a million Galleons today. Whether Chief Bragge
intended to pay or not is a moot point.
12
My way I did a Summoning Charm. You know how
good my Summoning Charms are, Pru – of course it
was easier for me to aim properly, not being mounted
on a broomstick at the time. The little bird came
zooming into my hand. I stuffed it down the front of
my robes and ran like fury.
Well, they caught me, but not before I’d got out of
the crowds and released the Snidget. Chief Bragge
was very angry and for a moment I thought I’d end
up a horned toad, or worse, but luckily his advisors
calmed him down and I was only fined ten Galleons
for disrupting the game. Of course I’ve never had ten
Galleons in my life, so that’s the old home gone.
I’ll be coming to live with you shortly, luckily they
didn’t take the Hippogriff. And I’ll tell you this,
Pru, Chief Bragge would have lost my vote if I’d
had one.
Your loving sister,
Modesty
Madam Rabnott’s brave action might have saved one
Snidget, but she could not save them all. Chief Bragge’s
idea had forever changed the nature of Quidditch.
Golden Snidgets were soon being released during all
Quidditch games, one player on each team (the Hunter)
having the sole task of catching it. When the bird was
13
killed, the game was over and the Hunter’s team was
awarded an extra one hundred and fifty points, in
memory of the one hundred and fifty Galleons promised
by Chief Bragge. The crowd undertook to keep the
Snidget on the pitch by using the Repelling Spells
mentioned by Madam Rabnott.
By the middle of the following century, however,
Golden Snidget numbers had fallen so low that the
Wizards’ Council, now headed by the considerably more
enlightened Elfrida Clagg, made the Golden Snidget a
protected species, outlawing both its killing and its use in
Quidditch games. The Modesty Rabnott Snidget
Reservation was founded in Somerset and a substitute for
the bird was frantically sought to enable the game of
Quidditch to proceed.
The invention of the Golden Snitch is credited to the
wizard Bowman Wright of Godric’s Hollow. While
Quidditch teams all over the country tried to find bird
substitutes for the Snidget, Wright, who was a skilled
metal-charmer, set himself to the task of creating a ball
that mimicked the behaviour and flight patterns of the
Snidget. That he succeeded perfectly is clear from the
many rolls of parchment he left behind him on his death
(now in the possession of a private collector), listing the
orders that he had received from all over the country. The
Golden Snitch, as Bowman called his invention, was a
14
walnut-sized ball exactly the weight of a Snidget. Its
silvery wings had rotational joints like the Snidget’s,
enabling it to change direction with the lightning speed
and precision of its living model. Unlike the Snidget,
however, the Snitch had been bewitched to remain within
the boundaries of the field. The introduction of the
Golden Snitch may be said to have finished the process
begun three hundred years before on Queerditch Marsh.
Quidditch had been truly born.
Chapter Five
Anti-Muggle Precautions
I
n 1398 the wizard Zacharias Mumps set down the first
-232full description of the game of Quidditch. He began by
emphasising the need for anti-Muggle security while
playing the game: “Choose areas of deserted moorland far
from Muggle habitations and make sure that you cannot
be seen once you take off on your brooms. Muggle-
Repelling Charms are useful if you are setting up a
permanent pitch. It is advisable, too, to play at night.”
We deduce that Mumps’s excellent advice was not
always followed from the fact that the Wizards’ Council
outlawed all Quidditch-playing within fifty miles of towns
15
in 1362. Clearly the popularity of the game was increasing
rapidly, for the Council found it necessary to amend the
ban in 1368, making it illegal to play within a hundred
miles of a town. In 1419, the Council issued the famously
worded decree that Quidditch should not be played
“anywhere near any place where there is the slightest
chance that a Muggle might be watching or we’ll see how
well you can play whilst chained to a dungeon wall.”
As every school-age wizard knows, the fact that we fly
on broomsticks is probably our worst-kept secret. No
Muggle illustration of a witch is complete without a
broom and however ludicrous these drawings are (for
none of the broomsticks depicted by Muggles could stay
up in the air for a moment), they remind us that we were
careless for too many centuries to be surprised that
broomsticks and magic are inextricably linked in the
Muggle mind.
Adequate security measures were not enforced until the
International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1692 made
every Ministry of Magic directly responsible for the
consequences of magical sports played within their
territories. This subsequently led, in Britain, to the
formation of the Department of Magical Games and
Sports. Quidditch teams that flouted the Ministry
guidelines were henceforth forced to disband. The most
famous instance of this was the Banchory Bangers, a
16
Scottish team renowned not only for their poor Quidditch
skills but also for their post-match parties. After their
1814 match against the Appleby Arrows (see Chapter
Seven), the Bangers not only allowed their Bludgers to
zoom away into the night, but also set out to capture a
Hebridean Black for their team mascot. Ministry of Magic
representatives apprehended them as they were flying
over Inverness and the Banchory Bangers never played
again.
Nowadays Quidditch teams do not play locally, but
travel to pitches, which have been set up by the
Department of Magical Games and Sports where
adequate anti-Muggle security is maintained. As Zacharias
Mumps so rightly suggested six hundred years ago,
Quidditch pitches are safest on deserted moors.
Chapter Six
Changes in Quidditch Since the
Fourteenth Century
Pitch
Zacharias Mumps describes the fourteenth-century pitch
as oval-shaped, five hundred feet long, and a hundred and
eighty feet wide with a small central circle (approximately
two feet in diameter) in the middle. Mumps tells us that
17
the referee (or Quijudge, as he or she was then known),
carried the four balls into this central circle while the
fourteen players stood around him. The moment the balls
were released (the Quaffle was thrown by the referee; see
“Quaffle” below), the players raced into the air. The
goalposts in Mumps’s time were still large baskets on
poles, as seen in Fig. C.
In 1620 Quintius Umfraville
wrote a book called The Noble
Sport of Warlocks, which included
a diagram of the seventeenth-
century pitch (see Fig. D). Here
we see the addition of what we
know as “scoring areas” (see
“Rules” below). The baskets on
top of the goalposts were
considerably smaller and higher
than in Mumps’s time.
By 1883 baskets had ceased to
be used for scoring and were
replaced with the goalposts we
use today, an innovation
reported in the Daily Prophet of
the time (see below). The
Quidditch pitch has not altered
since that time.
18
Bring Back
Our Baskets!
That was the cry heard from Quidditch
players across the nation last night as it
became clear that the Department of
Magical Games and Sports had decided to
burn the baskets used for centuries for goal-
scoring in Quidditch.
“We’re not burning them, don’t
exaggerate,” said an irritable-looking
Departmental representative last night
when asked to comment. “Baskets, as you
may have noticed, come in different sizes.
We have found it impossible to standardise
basket size so as to make goalposts
throughout Britain equal. Surely you can
see it’s a matter of fairness. I mean, there’s
a team up near Barnton, they’ve got these
minuscule little baskets attached to the
opposing team’s posts, you couldn’t get a
grape in them. And up their own end they’ve
got these great wicker caves swinging
around. It’s not on. We’ve settled on a fixed
19
hoop size and that’s it. Everything nice and
fair.”
At this point, the Departmental
representative was forced to retreat under a
hail of baskets thrown by the angry
demonstrators assembled in the hall.
Although the ensuing riot was later blamed
on goblin agitators, there can be no doubt
that Quidditch fans across Britain are
tonight mourning the end of the game as we
know it.
“ ’T won’t be t’ same wi’out baskets,” said
one apple-cheeked old wizard sadly. “I
remember when I were a lad, we used to set
fire to ’em for a laugh during t’ match. You
can’t do that with goal hoops. ’Alf t’ fun’s
gone.”
Daily Prophet, 12 February 1883
Balls
The Quaffle
As we know from Gertie Keddle’s diary, the Quaffle was
from earliest times made of leather. Alone of the four
Quidditch balls, the Quaffle was not originally enchanted,
but merely a patched leather ball, often with a strap (see
Fig. E), as it had to be caught and thrown one-handed.
Some old Quaffles have finger holes. With the discovery
of Gripping Charms in 1875, however, straps and finger
holes have become unnecessary, as the Chaser is able to
keep a one-handed hold on the charmed leather without
such aids.
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The modern Quaffle is twelve inches in diameter and
seamless. It was first coloured scarlet in the winter of
1711, after a game when heavy rain had made it
indistinguishable from the muddy ground whenever it was
dropped. Chasers were also becoming increasingly
irritated by the necessity of diving continually towards the
ground to retrieve the Quaffle whenever they missed a
catch and so, shortly after the Quaffle’s change of colour,
the witch Daisy Pennifold had the idea of bewitching the
Quaffle so that if dropped, it would fall slowly earthwards
as though sinking through water, meaning that Chasers
could grab it in mid-air. The “Pennifold Quaffle” is still
used today.
The Bludgers
The first Bludgers (or “Blooders”) were, as we have seen,
flying rocks, and in Mumps’s time they had merely
progressed to rocks carved into the shape of balls. These
21
had one important disadvantage, however: They could be
cracked by the magically reinforced Beaters’ bats of the
fifteenth century, in which case all players would be
pursued by flying gravel for the remainder of the game.
It was probably for this reason that some Quidditch
teams began experimenting with metal Bludgers in the
early sixteenth century. Agatha Chubb, expert in ancient
wizarding artifacts, has identified no fewer than twelve
lead Bludgers dating from this period, discovered both in
Irish peat bogs and English marshes. “They are
undoubtedly Bludgers rather than cannon balls,” she
writes.
The faint indentations of magically reinforced Beaters’ bats
are visible and one can see the distinctive hallmarks of
manufacture by a wizard (as opposed to a Muggle) – the
smoothness of line, the perfect symmetry. A final clue was
the fact that each and every one of them whizzed around my
study and attempted to knock me to the floor when released
from its case.
Lead was eventually discovered to be too soft for the
purpose of Bludger manufacture (any indentation left on
a Bludger will affect its ability to fly straight). Nowadays
all Bludgers are made of iron. They are ten inches in
diameter.
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Bludgers are bewitched to chase players in-
discriminately. If left to their own devices, they will attack
the player closest to them, hence the Beaters’ task is to
knock the Bludgers as far away from their own team as
possible.
The Golden Snitch
The Golden Snitch is walnut-sized, as was the Golden
Snidget. It is bewitched to evade capture as long as
possible. There is a tale that a Golden Snitch evaded
capture for six months on Bodmin Moor in 1884, both
teams finally giving up in disgust at their Seekers’ poor
performances. Cornish wizards familiar with the area
insist to this day that the Snitch is still living wild on the
moor, though I have not been able to confirm this story.
Players
The Keeper
The position of Keeper has certainly existed since the
thirteenth century (see Chapter Four), though the role
has changed since that time.
According to Zacharias Mumps, the Keeper
should be first to reach the goal baskets for it is his job to
prevent the Quaffle entering therein. The Keeper should
beware of straying too far towards the other end of the
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pitch, in case his baskets come under threat in his absence.
However, a fast Keeper may be able to score a goal and then
return to his baskets in time to prevent the other team
equalising. It is a matter for the individual conscience of the
Keeper.
It is clear from this that in Mumps’s day the Keepers
performed like Chasers with extra responsibilities. They
were allowed to move all over the pitch and to score
goals.
By the time Quintius Umfraville wrote The Noble Sport
of Warlocks in 1620, however, the Keeper’s job had been
simplified. The scoring areas had now been added to the
pitch and the Keepers were advised to remain within
them, guarding their goal baskets, though Keepers may fly
out of this area in an attempt to intimidate opposing
Chasers or head them off early.
The Beaters
The duties of the Beaters have changed little through the
centuries and it is likely that Beaters have existed ever
since the introduction of the Bludgers. Their first duty is
to guard their team members from the Bludgers, which
they do with the aid of bats (once clubs, see Goodwin
Kneen’s letter in Chapter Three). Beaters have never been
24
goal-scorers, nor is there any indication that they have
handled the Quaffle.
Beaters need a good deal of physical strength to repel
the Bludgers. This is therefore the position that, more than
any other, has tended to be taken by wizards rather than
witches. Beaters also need to have an excellent sense of
balance, as it is sometimes necessary for them to take both
hands from their brooms for a double-handed assault on a
Bludger.
The Chasers
Chaser is the oldest position in Quidditch, for the game
once consisted wholly of goal-scoring. The Chasers throw
the Quaffle to each other and score ten points for every
time they get it through one of the goal hoops.
The only significant change in Chasing came about in
1884, one year after the substitution of goal hoops for
goal baskets. A new rule was introduced which stated that
only the Chaser carrying the Quaffle could enter the
scoring area. If more than one Chaser entered, the goal
would be disallowed. The rule was designed to outlaw
“stooging” (see “Fouls” below), a move by which two
Chasers would enter the scoring area and ram the Keeper
aside, leaving a goal hoop clear for the third Chaser.
Reaction to this new rule was reported in the Daily
Prophet of the time.
25
Our Chasers
Aren’t
Cheating!
That was the stunned reaction of Quidditch
fans across Britain last night when the so-
called “Stooging Penalty” was announced by
the Department of Magical Games and
Sports last night.
“Instances of stooging have been on the
increase,” said a harassed-looking Depart-
mental representative last night. “We feel
that this new rule will eliminate the severe
Keeper injuries we have been seeing only
too often. From now on, one Chaser will
attempt to beat the Keeper, as opposed to
three Chasers beating the Keeper up.
Everything will be much cleaner and fairer.”
At this point the Departmental rep-
resentative was forced to retreat as the
angry crowd started to bombard him with
Quaffles. Wizards from the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement arrived to
disperse the crowd, who were threatening to
stooge the Minister of Magic himself.
One freckle-faced six-year-old left the
hall in tears.
“I loved stooging,” he sobbed to the Daily
Prophet. “Me and me dad like watching
them Keepers flattened. I don’t want to go
to Quidditch no more.”
Daily Prophet, 22 June 1884
The Seeker
Usually the lightest and fastest fliers, Seekers need both a
sharp eye and the ability to fly one- or no-handed. Given
their immense importance in the overall outcome of the
26
match, for the capture of the Snitch so often snatches
victory from the jaws of defeat, Seekers are most likely to
be fouled by members of the opposition. Indeed, while
there is considerable glamour attached to the position of
Seeker, for they are traditionally the best fliers on the
pitch, they are usually the players who receive the worst
injuries. “Take out the Seeker” is the first rule in Brutus
Scrimgeour’s The Beaters’ Bible.
Rules
The following rules were set down by the Department of
Magical Games
