Quidditch
on campus

McGill Muggles join in the bizarre international
Harry Potter broomsticks-and-balls game craze

END GAME: McGill Seeker Reid Robinson
goes for the Snitch at Middlebury College in Vermont

by DREW NELLES

“I’m sorry, my friend is too drunk to come over and ask this,” the woman says, “but what’s with the broomsticks?”

Standing in Gert’s, McGill’s unappealing undergraduate bar, four members of the university’s Quidditch team clutch their handmade oak brooms and tell a curious stranger that, yes, they are devotees of a magical sport made up in a children’s book. They get this all the time, even in the sport’s unofficial home of Vermont, where the McGill team travelled last October to compete in the second annual Quidditch World Cup. “We were in the middle of Burlington,” says Karen Kumaki, one of the team’s Chasers, “walking around with Quidditch equipment and Canadian flags, getting honked at.”

A generation raised on J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter is now in university, so, in the tradition of other bizarre activities started by procrastinating students, the boy wizard’s favourite sport has arrived. Muggle Quidditch, as its real-world incarnation is known, is a bit limited—flying brooms and winged balls are hard to come by—but the players don’t mind the absurdity. “It’s weird, because you can’t take it too seriously—” says Wren Laing, a Beater.

“If you do, then you realize that you’re straddling a broom,” quips James Di Paolo, a Keeper.

“—but it’s so much fun that we don’t even realize how silly it is half the time,” Laing concludes.

Throwing quaffles,dodging bludgers, seeking the snitch

Enthusiasts estimate there are hundreds of campus teams around the world, 14 of which played in the Cup at Vermont’s Middlebury College. It is a big deal. Rented live owls and stilt-walkers graced the Middlebury pitch, and the Intercollegiate Quidditch Association even has an official broomstick provider: a Florida-based company called Alivan’s, which specializes in Potter paraphernalia. Alivan’s brooms go for as high as $79, although, as the company’s Web site advises, “they DO NOT FLY!”

McGill placed seventh at the Cup—not bad for a young team. “We were the loudest and proudest team,” Di Paolo says, “but we were the worst.”

The university’s chapter started in September at Douglas Hall, a suitably Hogwarts-esque stone residence where a group of froshies watched YouTube clips of Middlebury’s trendsetting intramural teams and decided they wanted in. “The first time we practised, we asked people walking by if they wanted to play,” says Reid Robinson, the team’s Seeker. “That was embarrassing.” Things grew from there, and a nearby dollar store promptly sold out of plastic broomsticks. The team has since switched to Alivan’s mid-priced Scarlet Falcons.

Quidditch rules are as precise as spells, though modified from Rowling’s for Muggle benefit. On each team, there are three Chasers, who aim to throw a ball called the Quaffle through one of the opposing team’s hoops. Two Beaters launch balls called Bludgers at the opposing team; a successful hit renders the player temporarily “knocked out.” In the books, the Snitch is a tiny golden ball with a mind of its own, but is re-imagined here as a yellow-clad player who runs like hell. The Seeker aims to grab a tennis ball that hangs in a sock from the Snitch’s pants. The Keeper is a goalie. Broomsticks must stay between the legs at all times.

HOOP DREAMS: McGill team practice this winter

Geeks and others

A few team members agree to demonstrate the sport, though Quidditch in the Montreal winter might be even harder than its high-flying fictional version. The players gamely trip through the snow and hurl frozen volleyballs at each other. It’s not always graceful—running with a broomstick jammed between one’s thighs rarely is—but it has its moments: a Beater effortlessly twirls his Bludger, which bounces off a Chaser’s tuque. “James, you’re technically off your broom, dude,” Kumaki chides a teammate, who is wrestling another player on the ground. If this were the Quidditch of the books, poor broomstick-less James would be falling to his death.

With such devotion to the rules, these must have been the kids who lined up overnight to get the latest Harry Potter installment, right?

“I was that person,” Laing volunteers.

“I had it ordered from two places, just to be sure,” Di Paolo adds.

And what about Robinson, the Seeker, whose position was held by Harry Potter himself? “I only read the first two. They were read to me in, like, third grade,” he says. “I waited in line for Halo II. And for the iPhone. I don’t think I could ever justify waiting in line for a book.”