Quidditch Tryouts

“I can’t believe I have to fly on this ancient thing,” Draco complained.

The two of you were the first ones to arrive at the Quidditch pitch. You had selected the best-looking Shooting Stars from the broomshed and decided to do some warm-up laps.

You were pleased that you were able to keep pace with your roommate. You hadn’t actually gotten a chance to see Draco fly during Flying Lessons but if he was half as good at flying as he said he was then being able to keep pace with him boded well for you going into the tryouts.

“You’ve got a Comet Two-Sixty at home, right?” you inquired as you flew next to him.

“Yes, it’s reliable and it’s much faster than these brooms,” the Malfoy heir insisted, “I bet students in my father’s year flew on these old things!”

“I put in an order for a broom of my own,” you admitted, “But we’ll worry about getting our own broomsticks after we make the team.”

“It would be easier to do that if we had better brooms,” Draco groused.

“The point is to show that we’re talented without relying on fancy, expensive brooms,” you pointed out. “If we can outperform everyone else on these old things then that’ll make us look even better.”

“Here comes Flint now,” Malfoy observed. You looked down to see Marcus Flint trudge onto the field in his green Quidditch robes. The large boy had a crate tucked on under his arm which likely held the Quidditch balls. You and Malfoy quickly landed and joined Flint and the other Slytherin hopefuls in the middle of the pitch. Slytherin spectators for the tryouts were starting to file into the stands around you.

“I’m Captain,” Flint addressed everyone. “It’s my team so what I say goes. Anyone that’s got a problem with that should leave now.”

No one left.

“Some of you were on the team last year,” Flint continued, “But I wasn’t the Captain then. You’re gonna haveta fight to keep your position. I’m gonna pit the Chasers against the Keepers so I can weed out the weaklings and keep the biggest and strongest players. Everyone else, get out of the way.”

Draco walked off to the side with the rest of the Seeker and Beater hopefuls.

“Hey, wait a minute,” an unidentified second year spotted you. “What’re Gaunt and Malfoy doing here? They’re first years.”

“I said they could come,” Flint stated.

“I waited a whole year to try out!” the same second year complained.

“GET OUT!” Flint barked at him. “There’s no place here for anyone who second guesses my decisions.” The surly second year stomped off as the first cut. Flint stared at everyone else as if daring them to speak up against him. Finally, he stared at you. “Just because I’m allowing you to try out doesn’t mean you’re gonna make the team. I don’t like the idea of having puny little first years on our team. One good hit could kill you little runts. So you’re gonna haveta be extra impressive if you wanna avoid being cut.”

“...” You nodded. You weren’t expecting special treatment. You were determined to earn your spot on the Slytherin Quidditch Team.

“That idiot’s gone so now we’ve got five Chasers and five Keepers,” Flint noted. “Keepers stand on one side in order of year. Chasers stand opposite them in the opposite order.” You realized what Flint was doing as you took your place at the end of the Keeper line. He was putting the oldest hopefuls up against the youngest.

You gulped when you found yourself standing across from a huge, hulking sixth year with sharp eyes and long gorilla-like arms. The only person on the pitch that was bigger than the man-sized ‘boy’ you were supposed to go up against was Flint, who you heard rumors was part troll.

“First pair, go!” Thankfully, Flint decided to start from the other end of the line which meant the youngest Chaser was facing off against the oldest Keeper first. Flint opened the ball crate and tossed the Quaffle to the first Chaser hopeful, a nervous-looking second year. You recognised the Keeper going up against him as fifth year prefect Damian Perriss.

The second year took five shots at the hoops. Damian ended up blocking all but one of them.

You recognised the next Chaser as Cassius Warrington, the third year who had given you directions to the Owlery on your first day. He scored on four out of his five shots.

Next Graham Montague went up against Miles Bletchley. Both were third years along with Warrington. Maybe there was some colluding because Bletchley seemed like he let Montague score twice before blocking the following three shots.

Fourth year Adrian Pucey straight-up destroyed the second year Keeper who had been standing next to you and made all of his five shots. The demoralised fourteen-year-old didn’t even wait for Flint to cut him and ran off on his own.

After seeing the second-youngest Keeper get torn apart you felt extra nervous as you took to the air against the hulking brute known as ‘Burke’. There were no seventh years at the tryouts since they had exams and would only be on the team for one year before needing to be replaced again next year. You suspected that Burke was a sixth year like Flint. That meant he was likely eighteen. In the muggle world, he’d be considered a legal adult. And here you were, a thirteen-year-old boy - and also the youngest person currently on the pitch - going up against him in your first time playing Keeper.

“GO FOR IT, GAUNT!” You looked in the direction of the shout and spotted the rest of the Slytherin first years sitting in the stands. They were all there. Pansy, Millicent, Daphne, Tracey, Blaise, Vincent, Gregory, and even Theodore - who had brought along a book to read. Your stomach did a flip when you spotted Gemma Farley and a vaguely familiar tall dark-haired girl from her year seated in the stands.

Stomach flip aside, you were now determined not to screw up. You hovered in front of the three hoops in the scoring area and boldly faced down your hulking adversary as he easily palmed the Quaffle in his large ape-like hand. You stared the large sixth year right in the eye as he flew toward you and tried to read what he was going to do. “Right hoop…”

He threw and you lunged to the side like a striking snake and swatted the Quaffle away from the left hoop which was the hoop on Burke’s right. 1 of 1

Burke retrieved the Quaffle and went for his second shot. Again you stared him right in the eye and tried to predict what he’d do. “Fake then left hoop.”

You leaned slightly to the side as he juked his arm to the left then dove and knocked the Quaffle away from the hoop on your right. 2 of 2

Your fellow first years cheered while Burke prepared for his third shot. You quickly noted that his free hand was clenched in a tight fist before you locked your eyes on his again. “Spike it at the left hoop.”

Burke threw the Quaffle up in front of him then smacked it with his big gorilla-like forearm. You swooped down to the right and kicked the Quaffle away. 3 of 3

Your cheering section got even louder. Gemma was applauding and Burke looked like he was getting angry. He was glaring at you but you still stared right into his eyes. “Powershot left.”

Burke actually grunted as he threw the Quaffle at the hoop on his left with all his strength. You lunged like a lightning-fast viper and smacked the ball out of the way. But you were left shaking your sore hand as you tried to recover from the extra strong throw. 4 of 4

Your yearmates were chanting for you at this point. “GAUNT! GAUNT! GAUNT!”

Burke seemed to realize that you’d ruined things for him. He had one shot left and he was going to make this one extra hard for you. “Powershot… middle.”

The burly eighteen-year-old flew straight at you and once again threw with all his strength. You reached out and were nearly knocked off your broom as the fast-moving Quaffle slammed into your chest. You squeezed your legs tightly around your broomstick and managed to keep yourself mounted on your broom and avoided going flying through the middle hoop. 5 of 5

Your cheering section erupted while you held up the Quaffle and did a victory lap around the hoops. Even Theodore had looked up from his book long enough to give a polite applause. Your stomach did another funny flip when you saw Gemma Farley clapping with a wide smile on her face.

You tossed the Quaffle back to a shocked Marcus Flint as you landed. He probably hadn’t expected you to do so well. Especially against a sixth year. But truthfully, you hadn’t expected to be so good either. That was your first time playing Keeper but somehow you were able to read Burke like a book.

“Alright,” Flint announced, “Pucey, Warrington, Montague, Perriss, Bletchley, and Gaunt… stick around. Everyone else, clear off.”

Burke shared a quick look with Flint then glared in your direction before he stomped off after the younger hopefuls that Flint had just cut. The original ten was now down to six.

You grimaced and you rubbed your temples as you felt the makings of a headache coming on. The dull throbbing seemed to be coming from behind your eyes. But you waved off the mild pain since you were way too happy about performing well and surviving the first round of cuts.

“You were all good,” Flint said, “But now I wanna see who’s the best. Your gonna haveta do the same thing one more time.”

You bit your lip nervously when you realized that you were standing across from Adrian Pucey. He was the best of the Chasers. You didn’t know how you’d fare against him compared to that big brute Burke.

Flint seemed to be thinking along the same lines and actually came to your rescue. “Pucey, you’re up first against Perriss, Warrington you’ve got Bletchley, and Montague you’re going last against Gaunt.”

You let out a sigh of relief. Both that you didn’t have to go against Pucey and that you’d have a chance to recover after your time defending the hoops. However, you were fully aware of Montague sizing you up as Pucey and Perriss took to the air. You did the same. Despite being a year younger, both Warrington and Montague were bigger than Pucey. You also hadn’t gotten to see how good Montague really was since you were pretty sure that his yearmate Miles Bletchley had let him score his two goals.

The fifth year prefect was able to block two of the fourth year Chaser’s shots on the goal. It was more than that unfortunate second year had managed but Pucey came off as the clear victor. You were just glad it was Perriss going up against him instead of you. You honestly didn’t know how many of those shots you could have blocked. Combined with the first round Perriss had blocked six shots while Pucey had scored eight.

Next, third year Cassius Warrington took on his yearmate Miles Bletchley. Bletchley gave you a long look before he took his position. He seemed to realize that you were his strongest competition and that he'd actually have to try if he wanted the Keeper position. He blocked all but one of Warrington’s shots. Bletchley was now the man to beat. You would have to block all of Montague’s shots if you wanted to do better than him. Warrington had scored a total of five goals between the two rounds while Bletchley had blocked seven.

You mounted your school broom and flew up in front of the hoops. Montague tossed the Quaffle from hand to hand as he hovered in the middle of the pitch then shot right towards the hoop on your right. You swooped down to intercept him and managed to make eye contact. “Middle hoop last minute.”

Montague was less than three feet in front of you when he used the faster maneuverability of his broom to twist and chuck the Quaffle at the middle hoop. But you were already in motion and once again lashed out like a striking snake as you smacked the ball with both hands and sent it plummeting down towards the ground. 1 of 1 / 6 of 6

The third year swooped down and caught the falling Quaffle then looped back around to the middle of the pitch. He leaned forward on his broom and shot towards you again. You gripped your broom tightly as Montague showed no sign of slowing down. “Middle hoop right side.”

Montague nearly ran into you as he stretched his longer arm out and threw the Quaffle around you at the last minute. But you twisted to the left and swatted the Quaffle away with the tail of your broom. Montague swore as the ball went flying past him. 2 of 2 / 7 of 7

“GO GAUNT!” The Slytherin first years cheered as Montague spun around and retrieved the wayward Quaffle. You were already tied with Perriss and Montague still had three more shots.

Montague flew at you in a fast zigzag. His rapid swerving made it hard for you to make eye contact but you finally did and saw his eyes dart to your right side. “Long shot left hoop.”

You drifted to the left since he was flying right at the hoop on your left side. But once again your opponent only stopped a few feet away from you before he veered to the side and threw the Quaffle all the way across the scoring area to the hoop on the far right. You swung your leg around the front of your school broom and managed to kick the Quaffle off course. 3 of 3 / 8 of 8

A cheer and loud applause came from your cheering section. Gemma Farley was clapping too and you were pleased to see that she wasn’t upset about your outshining her fellow prefect. Montague looked annoyed as he collected the Quaffle again. He’d gotten a free pass by being paired off against his friend Bletchley in the first round. But there were only two Chaser spots open and Pucey’s performance meant he was likely to get one. Montague would have to make the next two shots against you just to tie his yearmate's goals from both rounds.

The big fifteen-year-old kept charging you and was clearly trying to use his size to intimidate you. He probably would’ve been more successful at that if you hadn’t gone up against the much bigger eighteen-year-old Burke first. You squeezed your broomstick as the larger boy once again barreled towards you with no sign of stopping. It was easy to make eye contact and the fact that his right hand was his throwing arm made him even easier to read. “Last minute to the left side.”

This time, however, Montague didn’t stop. He was less than a foot away from you when he wound up his right arm to throw. You lashed out with your left arm like a striking snake and chopped his arm as he threw. And then the big third year rammed into you. You were knocked clear off your broom and had a split second view of the Quaffle going under the hoop before you shot your right hand up and managed to grab your broomstick. 4 of 4 / 9 of 9

Montague flew away to retrieve the Quaffle and left you dangling from your broom. This was probably why thirteen-year-old first years didn’t regularly try out for the Quidditch Team. Everyone was bigger than you and one good clean hit could unseat you. You swung your other arm up and grabbed your broom then did a chin-up to pull yourself up high enough to straddle it again. Once they saw you were okay, your cheering section let out a cheer for your fourth save.

Gemma Farley wasn’t cheering. She’d drawn her wand and glaring at Montague. The big third year didn’t notice the fifth year prefect’s glare because he was busy glaring angrily at you. Even if he did score on this last shot he still wouldn’t have as many combined goals as Warrington. You already bested both Perriss and Bletchley in terms of combined total. But if you blocked the last shot and made two shutouts there would be no doubt who the best Keeper was.

Montague was going to ram you. You didn’t need to look him in the eyes to see that. He wasn’t even going to bother throwing the Quaffle. Instead, he was going to knock you aside and **** the ball into the hoop. You didn’t like this strategy. Your chest was still smarting from the last hit and your headache had returned. Actually, it hadn’t gone away but you’d thus far been ignoring it in favor of performing well.

You had two options: take the hit and block the last shot or dodge the hit and let him score. Neither of those sounded overly appealing. But then you realized that there was actually a third option. Hit him before he could hit you. On any other team, blatantly hitting another player would be uncalled for. But this was the ruthless Captain Flint and the Slytherin Quidditch team and they had gained a notorious reputation in recent years for playing rough and breaking rules.

Montague shot at you and once again showed no signs of stopping. You remained rooted in place but changed your grip on your broom as your opponent sped towards you. He entered the scoring area and you pushed yourself up and swung your legs around the front of your broom.

CLUNK!

You smacked both of your feet into the big third year’s head. The hard hit knocked him off course and he went around you instead of into you like he’d planned. You lashed out your foot again as he went passed and kicked the Quaffle out of his mostly unresponsive hand. Montague was still groggy as he plowed into the hoop while you dove after the Quaffle and caught it before it hit the ground. 5 of 5 / 10 of 10

“GAUNT! GAUNT! GAUNT!” You had done perfectly. You were the only Keeper to block all five shots during both rounds. You’d even done better than Adrian Pucey who had only scored eight goals in his two sessions. You turned your attention away from the crowd and focused on one important person: Marcus Flint. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain stared at you for a moment then his face broke out into an ugly grin as he started to clap.

“The kid’s scrappy,” he remarked as you landed. “I like that.”

“Not for long!”

You swallowed hard and looked up to see Montague flying down from the hoops. He had blood dripping from his nose. You weren’t sure if it was from your kick or from him plowing into the hoop. But it was abundantly clear that he was pissed. You picked up your broom and wielded it like a club to defend yourself as the angry third year advanced on you.

“Montague… stand down,” Flint ordered. “You’re making a fool of yourself. You got your face kicked in by a first year. You’re out.”

Montague growled and shot you one last glare as he stomped off. Warrington and Bletchley didn’t look overly happy about you kicking their yearmate either. But you weren’t going to feel sorry about defending yourself. You’d been hit once and got knocked off your broom. You didn’t want to suffer through a repeat performance.

Flint turned to Pucey and Warrington. “That means you two are the new Chasers.” And then he turned to you and Miles Bletchley.

You held your breath as you awaited the Slytherin Captain’s decision...