99 Problems but a Snitch Ain't One
Summary: A Quidditch AU. Arthur has little faith in his new Seeker, Merlin, but despite his clumsiness and childish wit, he turns out to be quite a good asset to the team. Gryffindor would surely crush Slytherin in the upcoming House Cup! Now if only Gwaine weren't commentating…The one where Merlin tries out for Seeker, he and Arthur hate each other maybe, and just about everyone has a place on one team or another.
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter or the Merlin universe.
It's nice to free-style once in a while, innit? I owe everything I've learned about Quidditch to Kennilworthy Whisp's Quidditch through the Ages.
~1~
"Watch where you're going!" snapped an irritable voice.
Merlin, having been knocked to the ground from the force of the collision, glared up. A tall teen with golden hair haloed by the early morning sun was glaring right back at him, eyes squinted threateningly. "Me?" Merlin retorted indignantly, pushing himself back up to his feet. His second-hand broomstick was still clutched in his hand, the grass stains from the dewy pitch invisible on his black school robes. "You're the one who ran into me, you prat!"
At the insult, the older boy raised an eyebrow. "And just who do you think you're talking to, boy?"
"A prat who blames the person he knocks down when he doesn't look where he's walking," Merlin spat, drawing himself to his full height. He came to half an inch taller than the other, though he was far lankier than the stocky build before him.
"I can take you apart with one blow."
"I can take you apart with less than that."
The prat opened his mouth, cheeks reddening in anger, but before he could say (or rather, shout) anything, another person ran up. "Sorry I'm late!" he exclaimed, sweeping his dirty blond curls from his forehead. "Professor Agravaine really held us up in history."
Following at his heels was a tan-skinned girl with curly dark hair that she was knotting at the back of her head, broomstick tucked between her neck and shoulder as she did so. "Have try-outs already started?" she asked.
The prat shook his head, folding his arms. "I couldn't start without you two. Everyone else is over there." He pointed carelessly toward the sideline, where a group of people were sitting or standing, some talking or fidgeting nervously. His sharp blue eyes narrowed in on Merlin again, looking him up and down, and he stared back defiantly. Instead of the expected comment on the obvious poor look he bore (his patched, too-short robes over his skinny frame doing a good job to make him look homeless), the prat said, "You're here for try-outs, right? Get over there."
Merlin lifted his chin and strolled across the pitch. He'd been heading that way, anyway, looking admiringly up at the fifty-foot high silver goalposts at the far end of the field. He spotted his friends Will and Freya, who waved him over. Merlin grinned and joined them. Will was trying for the team as well, but Freya, who was actually in Ravenclaw but had grown up with the two, had only come to support them.
"Nice run-in with the Prince, Merlin," Will complimented.
"Who?" Merlin asked quizzically, dropping down beside them.
Will smirked and cocked his head back toward the prat, who was apparently still conversing with the two late-comers. "That's Arthur Pendragon."
Merlin nearly choked, eyes going wide. "The Arthur Pendragon?!" He groaned and fell back onto the grass, closing his eyes both in dismay and to protect them from the sun. "I bet I've just buggered up my chances at getting on the team."
"What, 'cause you ran into him?" Freya asked, frowning.
"No, 'cause I called him a prat." Merlin turned and gave her a wide-eyed, emphatic look. "In my clotpole voice."
"Ooh," his friends winced sympathetically in unison.
"Well," Freya said kindly, "maybe he'll still give you a fair chance."
Merlin rolled onto his side and eyed the rest of the hopeful participants. There were several nervous third years, some fourth years like him, and quite a few calm students who were older. He was sure that they'd be given higher consideration. He sighed. "Perhaps it's not meant to be. Ah, well. At least Mum will be happy." Merlin's mother had tried to persuade him to join the Gobstones Club rather than Quidditch; she had never quite recovered from his father's death during a game-related accident.
Will slapped him hard on the shoulder. "Buck up, Merlin! You look like you've been walloped in the stomach by the Whomping Willow. Practice hasn't even started yet! Besides," he said, smirking, "you're the best flyer in our year."
Merlin chuffed. "Maybe, but no one else's called the Captain, Gryffindor Prefect, and headmaster's son a prat."
A new voice, dripping in mirth, interjected, "Ye did what now?"
The trio turned and spotted a handsome wizard, Irish if his accent was anything to go by, who looked to be in his sixth year, with dark shaggy hair framing his amused face. His teeth were white and straight, revealed in a broad grin. Merlin flushed, embarrassed.
"Insulted the princess, have ya?" he nodded sagely, unbothered by the uncomfortable looks he was receiving from the younger students. "You needn't worry! He's quite used to it, I should think, all things considered: Morgana and I have a running bet to see which of us can push him hardest. I'm hoping to get him admitted to Mungo's one of these days." An apple was mysteriously procured from the sleeve of his robe, the Gryffindor patch visible on his chest. Around a crunchy mouthful, he continued, "Anyway, good luck, the both of ya! Arthur's a fair chap, in any case. He goes on potential, more than anything else. Ta!"
With that, he flounced off, flicking out his wand and causing an unattended broomstick to levitate and zoom off towards Arthur, whose back was still turned. His friends saw it coming, however, and ducked, giving him just enough time to do so himself without wasting time glancing over his shoulder. The broom whizzed off, performed a series of paper plane-esque loops, and then returned to its owner, all under the carefree waves of the perpetrator's wand.
"Gwaine! I'll report you to—"
"Just keepin' ya on your toes, Princess!"
Merlin wasn't sure how much faith to put into Gwaine's assertions.
It seemed that Gwaine's attack had wrapped up their conversation, because the three headed toward the sidelines, brooms held at their sides. Seeing them approaching, the crowd quieted and gathered more closely together, giving the Captain their full attention. His two friends joined the try-outs. It seemed that Arthur was giving everyone an equal chance, disregarding friendship to create a good team.
Obviously he was a winner.
"First things first," Arthur said, raising his voice to be heard clearly and planting his hands firmly on his hips. He squinted, something that Merlin was beginning to find incredibly annoying. Must he try to look so condescending? "If you are not from Gryffindor, you aren't trying for the team, so don't even try." As he said this, he fixated a stern glare at a third year girl from Slytherin, who slunk off dragging her broom behind her. "If you are a first or second year, it is against the rules for you to try out for the team." A gaggle of first years separated from the group, running off hollering back to the castle and not seeming put out in the least. "If you can't handle teamwork or long and hard practices whilst maintaining good marks, I can assure you that you'll not cut it." No one broke off this time, and Arthur seemed satisfied.
He took three steps back, eyes flitting across individual faces. "Now," Arthur said, "since there are this many of you, you will divide into three groups. If you're only a spectator here to support your friend, remove yourself to the wall out of the way."
Merlin felt Freya give his shoulder a squeeze as she left and joined four other people.
"Has everyone got a broom?"
Merlin's grip tightened on his Comet 200, feeling a bit self-conscious. He would have tried out last year, but he hadn't owned a broom then. The broom he had now was practically ancient, but it was all his mother had been able to afford, and she'd refused to let him so much as touch his father's old Cleansweep Three. He was sure that if asked, his Uncle Gaius would have lent them a Galleon or two, but the Emryses hated to rely on charity even from family. Besides, Merlin had worked for the broom, doing odd chores here and there for neighbors, like de-gnoming gardens or chasing out pixies. He'd even once rescued a cat from a tree. Most everyone else, though, had more recent models, like Nimbusses or Firebolts.
Somehow, during all the shifting, Merlin had ended up separated from Will, who was in the second group, while Merlin was in the last.
"Mount your brooms, group one," Arthur said. "You'll fly around the pitch three times. You'll want to demonstrate your best."
On his whistle, a party of six raised into the air.
Merlin thought it was brilliant of him to start off with such a simple test, because while some of the more experienced flyers shot off like arrows, two had a more wobbly start before catching up, and one only lifted a few feet off the ground and then crashed hard.
He craned his neck back in awe, watching them blur against the backdrop of blue sky. He noticed that the one in the lead was the curly-haired boy who had arrived late. Robes whipped fiercely behind them, hair tousled freely by cutting wind. A grin etched its way onto Merlin's face as he watched, a deep longing feeling his chest. People had often commented on how appropriate his namesake was: he often soared high in the air, where the winds became thinner but chillier, then drifted in lazy circles back to the ground, much like a falcon descending to its nest.
The third turn around the pitch, and the first group landed, looking exhilarated and windswept. Arthur nodded approvingly and told them to sit aside for a moment. Merlin rather thought that the curly-haired one had a position already, based solely on his superior flying skills. Maybe Freya's cousin, Lancelot du Lac, who had shown impressive maneuvering.
"Group two, mount your brooms," Arthur called. He waited a moment so that everyone was ready, then gave the signal.
Merlin watched Will. He'd gotten off to a bit of a shaky start—the twigs in his broomtail had once caught fire, and no, it hadn't been Merlin fault—but he had much practice in correcting its flight and did well compared to others. One girl tried to overcorrect and flew into a goalpost; another tried to turn too fast, taking out the boy on her left. He managed to catch them both, and they resumed the race, but had lost a lot of time. Merlin lowered his gaze to judge what the captain thought of the display.
Arthur was watching them with a hand shading his eyes from the sun, turning in place to mark their progress. His eyes were squinted even more than normal, reminding Merlin of the crotchety old man who'd lived down the road from Will. Other than that, though, Arthur's expression was pretty neutral.
There were no more mishaps, and the second group landed. Merlin noticed that the girl who had spoken with Arthur earlier had tied with an older boy who had strikingly similar features to her (he decided that they must be siblings).
"Group three, mount your brooms!" Arthur called once the second group had moved off the field.
Merlin nervously did so, white-knuckling the handle of his broom. He swallowed hard.
"All right there?"
He turned and saw a pleasantly-smiling girl, her cheeks rosy as though she'd just flown with the last group, but her auburn hair was still neatly brushed back into a bun that he was sure wouldn't stay unless she'd charmed it. He didn't quite trust his voice, so he simply returned her smile and nodded, heart thudding wildly in his chest. Arthur gave the signal.
Merlin shot straight up, pushing hard with his feet against the grass so that his stomach plummeted. All the others ascended in a smooth slope, picking up speed as they went. He bent low against the handle and shot forward, sweeping past the rest of his group in a blur. Several startled people cried out, and he could swear he heard Will whooping over the wind rushing in his large ears. His heart calmed and swelled happily in his breast as he flew. It was one of his favorite past times.
He was zooming toward one of the audience stands, the tall structure clothed in purple to hide the scaffolding. People watching were sure he was going to collide with it head-on, and at that speed he would likely cripple or even kill himself—but Merlin turned at the last second, barrel rolling as he made a sharp arc. Then he righted himself and sped along the pitch, performing the same type of turn at the opposite end. On the final turn Merlin grinned and hung upside down, clinging to his broom with only the bends of his knees.
"Show-off!" shouted Will good-naturedly.
The Comet dropped in altitude from an alarming height, appearing as a freefall. But a few feet above the ground the broom evened out and Merlin grasped the handle one-handedly, skimming the grass with his toes before coming a stop where he had started.
He hadn't been the first to finish—his old used broom was too slow—but if the way people stared at him was any indication, he'd been quite impressive. Freya beamed and waved at him from the sidelines, and he returned it. Merlin cast an overt look at Arthur, but he was as stoic as before.
"You all did well," he addressed them, "splendid work. Now we'll be seeing how you do with the balls. We'll start with the Quaffle."
With that he strolled to the center of the pitch, broom slung over his own shoulder. Merlin was slightly annoyed to see that it was the latest Firebolt model. There was the box that the balls were locked into after each game. The Quidditch balls were enchanted, each for a specific function. The Quaffle was the goal-scoring ball; the two Bludgers chased players around the field and tried to knock them out; and the Snitch, designed to look and act like the endangered Snidget bird, was the most important one, as whoever caught it earned his or her team 150 points.
The groups were further divided so that there were three in each. Merlin managed to snag Will, who had befriended the boy Merlin thought was Lancelot (it was Lancelot, Freya's older cousin who recently returned from studying abroad). Each group was called forth one at a time and took to the air with Arthur, who threw the leather Quaffle at each of them in turn, and then had them fly around and pass it to one another as he observed. Merlin wasn't too worried. He was rubbish at playing Chaser, and even more rubbish at playing Keeper (luckily, Arthur was Keeper, so they weren't testing for it), and even more rubbish at playing Beater, but he made an excellent Seeker, which was what he was trying for.
Some players were better than others; some caught the Quaffle more easily, some had better aim, and some had neither of those skills. Merlin, as expected, was categorized in the latter. When his group took flight and circled around the field making passes, Lancelot by far outstripped them. Will dropped the Quaffle once, but made a quick save. Merlin caught the thing whenever it was passed to him, but he constantly dropped it, and only Will's quick reflexes saved him from being hit in the face when Merlin aimed for Lancelot but threw it at him.
Needless to say, he was much relieved when Quaffle time was over, and Arthur called for the teams to further split so that everyone was paired. There was a mad shuffle, and Merlin somehow ended up paired with that boy whom he thought was the brother of Arthur's friend. "Elyan Smithson," he'd friendlily introduced himself.
They were one of the first couples to be called up for Beater try-outs. Merlin had half a mind to ask whether he could just sit this one out, but as far as he could see there was no other partner for Elyan, so he bit his tongue and went up, heavy bat in hand. He had little practice with the thing, and in any case he didn't think a stick was adequate defense against metal Bludgers that deliberately tried to knock your brains out midair.
Once they were in position, Arthur released the Bludger he had trapped in his arms, laying his body across it and struggling to keep it confined. It rushed at Elyan first, as he was the closer player, and the boy swung his arm hard—pelting it directly for Merlin.
Instinctively Merlin dropped the bat and grabbed his broom handle, doing a Sloth Grip Roll to avoid being hit. The Bludger overshot its target, and by the time Merlin had righted himself the Bludger was arching back for him. His broom leapt up several feet at the last possible second, the wind from the ball actually ruffling the hem of his robes. Elyan, ready again, knocked it back toward Merlin. He rolled again to the right, then to the left as the Bludger came back.
"I think it's safe to—"He ducked as Elyan hit it back, damn him—"I think it's safe to say that I'm not a Beater!"
Elyan laughed heartily, twirling the baton in his hand as the Bludger tried a new tactic: circling around Merlin to get at Elyan. The stocky teen hit it downwards toward the captain, who had his wand out.
"Accio Bludger!"
The ball zoomed toward Arthur, who caught it against his chest with an 'oomf!' as the force knocked him to the ground.
"Next—pair!" he grunted, writhing about. Two girls hurriedly flew up into position as Elyan and Merlin landed together.
"You've got some great flying skills," Elyan complimented him, patting him on the shoulder.
Merlin grinned. "Thanks. And you're not bad yourself—you've got a strong arm and great aim to boot!"
"I've not been a Beater three years running for nothing."
The pretty curly-haired girl approached, congratulating Elyan on a good try-out. She turned to Merlin, smiling. "And I think you've got all the makings of a Seeker! My name's Guinevere Smithson, but my friends call me Gwen."
"Hullo, I'm Merlin Emrys," he said.
"Accio Bludger!" Arthur shouted again. They turned to watch him wrestle with the enchanted metal ball, slightly amused.
"Merlin's beard, Merlin!" Will greeted, slinging a heavy arm round Merlin's scrawny shoulders. "Excellent flying, mate, but I tell you—if you'd have let the Bludger get your face (just once, mind you) then the girls would have been all over you!"
"Only one girl as far as I'm concerned," Merlin said, shoving him off playfully, "and it would have been Auntie Alice's healing touch."
"Auntie Alice?" Gwen gasped. "So you're that Merlin!"
"Um?"
She smiled. "Once in my second year I got hit by a stray pimple jinx and a bat bogey hex, both at once. It was awful. While Alice was fixing me up she got to talking about her favorite nephew Merlin, and all the antics he got into."
Merlin blushed. "I'm her only nephew," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as Will made mocking googly eyes at him. But her laugh was infectious and he ended up joining her.
"Accio Bludger!" Arthur shouted.
Merlin wandered over to sit with Freya, who had been on her own long enough. He was sure she must have been bored—she'd never been one for sports, even one as great as Quidditch—and besides which, he rather liked talking with her. His mother had expressed her surprise that Merlin hadn't been in Ravenclaw with her. So far as she could trace back through their history, Merlin was the first to be placed in Gryffindor House (Hunith herself had been from a long line of Hufflepuffs, and Balinor from Slytherins and Ravenclaws.) He sat with her for the rest of the Bludger try-outs, which took longer than he expected due to several casualties—one girl received a broken nose, and two boys were still unconscious.
So far, so good, then.
Merlin rejoined the group as it crowded Arthur, who had at last forced the Bludger back into its harness. The captain brushed grass clippings from the front of his robes as he straightened, pocketing his wand.
"Alright," he said, voice beginning to get scratchy from all the shouting he'd been doing. "You've all done well today. I must implore those of you who have been injured to pay a visit to Nurse Alice at the infirmary. The try-out is now concluded. I will be personally telling you if you've made the team tonight at dinner, so be sure to be in the Great Hall tonight. Thank you all for coming."
"But what about the Seeker?" piped up one voice.
Arthur paused swiftly, and answered, "That was doubled as the flying test at the beginning."
That seemed to satisfy everyone, and people began collecting their brooms and things and making their way off the field, animatedly discussing their own performances. Merlin waited for Freya and Will to catch up, feeling oddly disappointed. He'd half-wanted to impress the Captain with his Snitch-catching skills.
Freya and Will were laughing together as they approached, but when they looked up at Merlin they suddenly turned serious. Merlin frowned in confusion. Had he looked angry? He opened his mouth to ask them what was up, but a voice spoke behind him: "You. Merlin."
He looked over his shoulder to see Arthur squinting at him. Merlin raised an eyebrow in imitation of his Uncle Gaius, supposing that Arthur had gotten his name from Gwen. "Yes?"
"Come with me. Your friends needn't wait." The last he said loudly enough that Freya and Will heard, and they hesitated to leave. Merlin gave them a nod, feeling just as confounded as they looked, and turned to follow the Quidditch captain to the middle of the pitch. Freya and Will continued on their way, shooting Merlin a look that meant they'd be waiting out on the grounds and that they'd come looking for his body if he were gone for too long.
"Um, is this about what I said earlier?" Merlin asked tentatively as Arthur knelt in front of the Quidditch box. He had a vague sense that he was going to beat him to death with Bludger.
"Huh?" Arthur said distractedly. "Oh, that." He stood up, kicking the lid closed. His fingers were curled around something. "No, but I have to ask—what the hell is a prat?"
Merlin smirked. "In two words? Captain Arthur."
"It's Captain Pendragon to you," he said, but with a roll of his sapphire eyes that belied humor. "Now, I assume you know what a Snitch is?" Arthur opened his hand, holding a walnut-sized golden ball between his thumb and forefinger.
Merlin's eyes widened, and he nodded a bit too enthusiastically.
This time Arthur smirked. "You're a good flyer, I'll give you that," he said. "But you're rubbish at catching, so far as I could see." With a toss of his arm and a flick of his wrist, the Snitch zoomed off into the air and flitted out of sight. "You have ten minutes. Starting now."
It took a couple of seconds for Merlin's brain to catch up with his ears, but when he understood his task, he grinned and mounted his Comet. With a whoop, he shot off and circled the pitch, ignoring the lone figure watching him to scan his surroundings for the Snitch. Falling into habit, Merlin went as high as he could go—about a seventy feet, give or take, before his broom started shuddering in protest. Then he made wide circles around the pitch, each successive loop taking him a bit lower.
He drifted lazily for a few minutes, biding his time. The Snitch probably wasn't going to reveal itself too quickly, in any case. But then he saw it glint in the sunlight, drawing his sharp eyes instantly.
It was floating about Arthur's head, almost kissing the golden hairs.
Merlin grinned swiftly and dove, allowing the broom to gain speed naturally. Arthur didn't move even when it became obvious that Merlin was heading straight for him—a direct collision course. As the young flyer became parallel several feet over Arthur's head, he pressed for a last burst of speed and spun into his upside-down position, one arm outstretched.
His fingers curled around the light, feathery-feeling metal. His hand closed around it as he swung himself upright. Merlin slowed to a halt, clutching the Snitch with a victorious grin. He turned the broom to face Arthur, still hovering over the grass, expecting an astonished gape.
But Arthur merely squinted at him. "That was twelve minutes and forty-four seconds, Merlin," he said, holding out his hand for the Snitch. Merlin released the ball, and it flitted to the captain and snugged into his palm. Ignoring Merlin's indignant expression, he went to place the Snitch back in its proper place.
Merlin stormed off the field as soon as his feet were back on the ground. "Prat," he muttered vehemently under his breath as he passed him.
A/N: Okay, I don't have all of this story typed out. I've not even got an outline written for it like I usually do. But this is a side project anyway, and I'll update whenever I've written the next chapter. Ta!