Quidditch time baby.

You can't help but sigh, of course she doesn't like Quidditch players. She probably had an ex or something, tough, Quidditch isn't something you're willing to give up for anyone, it's an itch you can't scratch, the freedom of the wind and the thrill of competition are addicting to you. "Ugh, you're one of them aren't you? I knew I had you pegged for a jock." Funny, she's giving you the slyest smirk right now, mixed with a slight look of annoyance. "Am I that transparent?"

"You were practically drooling over their broomsticks." She rolls her eyes.

"So were you." You wink before finishing up your sandwich and picking up your bags. The last you see of Coral is her spitting her soup back into her bowl. "Turner!"

You dash off to your dorm room, you need to get changed first. Once there you take off your robes and put on some black workout shorts, a dark green tank top and jogging shoes. Hopefully the team will have broomsticks for use, you're much to broke to afford one. You rush out the door of the common room, jogging softly to the Hogwarts pitch. The hallways are wide so you have no problem getting there, even with all of the students. Some of the girls look at you, glancing up and down, no doubt happy to see some muscles and sweat after listening to old farts talk about even older books all day. Blue banners start to adorn your vision, you must be in the Ravenclaw wing. A smirk spreads across your face as you spot Coral turn the hall. She nearly drops her books. Perfect. You walk right up to her, filled with confidence. She's not meeting your eye, her fingers are fidgeting all over the place and you swear her breathing changed. "S-so you're really a Quidditch player?"

"You don't hate me now do you?" You take a step closer, the scent of her skin brushes against your nose.

"I... uh. Um." Is she squirming? You step closer, just eager to see her reaction at this point. "Give a guy a chance."

"N-no." she stumbles off. Bright red and refusing to look anywhere near you.

Fresh grass, brisk air that lifts your spirits, and the mean mugs of about forty different young aspiring Quidditch players. Yep, this is home. "Turner! Didn't think I'd see you here." Martin gives your shoulder a shake, "Not that I'm unhappy, we'll need all the players we can get to defeat Gryffindor this year."

"Hope I can impress you today." You give him a nod before joining up with the other players.

"Good afternoon men. I hope you're ready to put yourselves to the test today. The trials we have set up will determine what positions you would best serve the team in." Martin mounts his broomstick and floats above the crowd, you and the rest of the players go to mount your brooms but Martins stops all of you.

"First are suicide sprints. From where you're standing to the other side of the field, ten times back and forth." Martin zooms off to the other side of the pitch, you hear grumbling but the young wizards around you begin to take off into dead sprints.

You follow suit, relishing in the feel of the soft lush grass pounding against the bottom of your shoes, the wind roars through your hair, reminding you to go faster and faster. You're among the first ones to reach the other side of the field first, there are two others, one is a girl with tan skin and the other is a young man with bright green dreadlocks, Martin nods at your group, commending your effort.

You suffer through the suicides again and again, reminding yourself constantly to take deep steady breaths from the stomach. You collapse in a heap of sweaty limbs. "Those of you who didn't fail." Martin looks at a group of those who quit out of the sprints with disdain. "Go grab broomsticks from the shed. Drink some water and be back on the pitch in five." The boys rush towards the broomstick shed, eager to get their hands on a good stick. You manage to grab a decent model, the Ghost Wind 400, known for it's break neck speeds and incredible turn rate, Quidditch broom sticks are known to be incredibly heavy and thick, due to the heavy speeds and impact forces common in the sport. Broom sticks can be as heavy as sixty five to one hundred pounds. "Damn, you got the Ghost Wind." It's the girl you met at the sorting, the one with the jade eyes. Her small chest is heaving through a thin white tank top. Merlin's cockles what is she thinking with that outfit. "Is the Bulldog 1200 in there?" she asks you before trying to shuffle past, the smell of her fresh sweat and perfume blasts past you. "It is!" she grabs the broomstick happily before rushing out and riding it of into the wind. You smile, confused but amused and follow suite.

The game of Quidditch takes place twenty stories in the air. To fall from one's broom is to fall to one's ****. So needless to say you're gripping your broomstick pretty tight right now. There's a crew of nurse wizards and witches casting protection spells for any would be fallers, but even magic isn't perfect, and falling is fast. The players are flying in a half circle around Martin, eager for instruction. "First trial! I want you guys and girls to form teams of three, you'll then be flying head to head against another team of three, the goal is to secure and score the quaffle. Last team standing wins. And remember this isn't elementary school Quidditch, you can really die here, just look down if you aren't sure." Martin takes a moment to let his words sink in.

You fly to the girl with the Bulldog, "Team?"

She nods, "Team. Yik, get over here." Yik nods and flies over. With your team set you get in line and put on black vests, looks like you're first up. Your opposing team has two girls and one guy, the guy is named Frank Kursastok and the girls are Lina and Lisa Curltail, they're in blue." Martin flies above your two teams and readies the quaffle. "Ready! Fly!" Martin drops the quaffle and it descends towards your two teams. The six players rocket upwards, Yik tapers off to the left, cutting an inside route. The girl with the bulldog shoots straight up, already the closest to the ball within seconds. You decide to trail her as support. She nabs the ball with her right hand and yanks a turn left, nearly losing her head to an elbow thrown by the opposing male player. You grunt in anger and slam into the dude, shifting your body weight on the broom to shovel your right shoulder into his ribs. Your teammate uses the space you've created to blaze off into left field, Yik is already positioned ahead, one pass and he's in scoring position. Lina and Lisa are all over Yik though, a pass could lead to an interception, the green eyed girl looks back at you, nodding at you to cut in. You oblige and give Frank a sharp kick to the shin. "Fuckin cocksucker!" Frank attempts to speed up but spins out due to your kick. Lisa moves to the goal posts in a hurry, the jade eyed girl is still going full speed ahead, you struggle to catch up with her, thirty feet from the goal, twenty, ten, Lisa moves forward to intercept the girl. The girl with the green eyes swerves downwards, twirling upside down on her broom to toss you an upwards pass, you manage to catch the upwards pass just before railing the goalie in the jaw with your entire body weight. Lisa goes limp in an instant and falls off her broom. You steady yourself on your broom, your muscles and core straining with intense effort to stay balanced. You cock back your right arm and cannon off a shot into the middle goal. You look down searching for Lisa's falling form, instead you find her resting in Yik's arms. He gives a nod.

"Goal Hallow!" Martin waves your teams off. "That's why we don't have girl goal keeps. Girl nearly died." he mutters. You fly to the back of the line, "I'm Reina, Turner Hallow was it? That was a nice catch back there. How long have you been playing Quidditch?"

"Not long to be honest, maybe three months?"

"Well keep it up." Reina gives you a respectful nod before looking back onto the pitch. The next three on three is taking place. This time all the players on the pitch are men, the air is filled with tension. Martin readies the quaffle.

"Fly!"

Chasers are often specialists in certain areas, choosing your chasers based on their skills can make a big impact in the air. Some chasers are skilled passers, long outlet passes and short range dimes are both great weapons to have. Some chasers specialize in maneuvering and riding the broom, in order to cut the distance between the ball and the goal. The skills a chaser must possess are numerous, but the highest value skill a chaser can possess is the ability to score the quaffle. When one thinks about incredible Chasers of the past, one thinks of the high volume point scorers.

A skilled shooter is a threat from almost anywhere on the field, the size and freedom of the Quidditch pitch allows for incredible creativity and skill when it comes to shot creation and attempts. Exceptional shooters have been known to go full speed from the mid field line in order to use their momentum to hurtle the quaffle with as much power as possible, these shots have been known to break bones. Shots from high up are also a common occurrence, their trickiness and unpredictability causing havoc for goalkeepers. If a chaser is able to possess and utilize all of these skills, then surely he or she would control the tempo of the game at all times.

"Purple team looks good." Reina says. You take a second to look at them, all of them have solid builds and long limbs, each one looks like a bruiser in his own right. You look to the team in the orange vests, they look more wiry and lean, like hungry wolves, quick and agile. "Let's go boys!" The leading man in purple shouts before blasting into the air, both of his teammates follow at the breakneck pace flying through the air in a tight line.

Orange team is there first though, a single player with blazing red hair, he nabs the ball with two hands, way before anyone in purple can put a paw on it. The three purple players freeze for a split second before deciding to risk it all. One grabs for the end of the ball handler's broomstick attempting to pry it from him, the man with the red hair shifts his broom, altering his flight path ever so slightly, all the grabber gets is a grip of air. A straight kick flicks out in the same moment, headed straight for the purple player's left temple . The purple player manages to defend but is knocked off balance and stunned. The other two lunge, using their window of opportunity with full abandon. One lowers his shoulder to bash his body into the red head and the other readies his red oak wood broom, picking up to max speed in order to ram into the red head's ribcage. The two brutes clash forwards on the red head, both determined to break him. You see the red head smile while in the air, it looks like he's enjoying himself.

The red head flows through the air weaving and dodging, managing to change course just before the defenders crash into him, he does all this while still moving full speed down the field. The defense levies their attacks with swooping arcs, one man tries to stay on the ball handler at all times, disrupting and limiting his movement. if the other two miss, then they can swoop around and try again. It's a good system that pros use often, to see it in full display in a practice scrimmage speaks volumes of the purple team's defensive capabilities. The red head remains unflappable though, his broom control is simply extraordinary. His teammates are wide open in front of him, it looks like the orange team is playing wide, spreading the field then looking for long passes.

Will the redhead pass? With so many fliers around him, it would just be asking for someone to swipe it out of the air. His teammates aren't closing in at all either. "It looks like he's going to just keep flying the ball in, what a crazy guy." Yik says to you, eyebrows up in surprise.

"Tell me about it, the guy's insane." You struggle to imagine how difficult it would be to fly down the field with three defenders hounding you.