A/N: I'm sorry this is short, and I DO NOT own Harry Potter. Reviews are appreciated, and if you want more, I'll add some, but otherwise I'll stick to one.
Andrew Kirke grinded his teeth. Why did Angelina expect so much of him? And why did the rest of the team keep shooting nasty looks at him? Sure, he wasn't the greatest Beater in the world, but he was still better than those trolls in the tryouts. It was perfectly reasonable for him to be picked. Yes, Andrew was not quite as good as Fred and George Weasley. But they were older than him, and therefore had more time to practice. Taking off sulkily, Andrew swung his bat randomly... and hit Angelina. Angelina flew in circles, swearing, but no apparent damage had been done. Hey, he thought. I'm better than Jack, and he doesn't get any dirty looks! Andrew was jolted out of his pool of self-pity when a Bludger came flying at him. He ducked, swinging his bat, causing him to roll over, and fall off his broomstick, landing in a heap ten feet below. His team dismounted to make sure he was okay, but none of them showed the concern that was essential to an injured teammate. As if you could survive in a game without me, he sniffed in his head. Turned out, in his next game against Hufflepuff, he would do the same exact thing again...
