The rest of the week flew by, but Defense Against the Dark Arts on Friday was by far the most boring class James had been to so far, and that was saying a lot, since James also had History of Magic.
"This is a class of serious work," Professor McAfee began. She set her book down on the desk in front of Trevor, who froze. "No misconduct or fooling around will be tolerated."
The entire classroom was dead silent. Oliver looked petrified, something you didn't see every day. Sarah and James were the only two who looked even remotely relaxed, not at all the usual standard expected from the mischievous third years.
"Turn to page one in your books and begin reading," McAfee said sternly. "When you are finished with the first chapter, you will answer the questions on page 4, to be turned in to me by the end of the class. Begin."
And the rest of the class went on in complete silence, maybe an occasional cough, an audible sound of an uneven quill scratching on parchment, or maybe a page turn.
0o0o0o
"Torture, that class was," James moaned, massaging his sore fingers as they headed to the Great Hall for dinner.
"Tell me about it," Ariel said dully, pushing her glasses up her nose. "All of those questions had nothing to do with the passage we'd just read. And the passage itself was quite stupid, too."
The five of them moaned and griped all the way to the Great Hall, but all fell silent when they began eating roast beef and potatoes. After dinner, they headed back up the staircase toward Gryffindor tower, gave the Fat Lady the password (Planet orbit), and collapsed into the common room.
"Today was the worst day ever," Oliver said, his face pale. "All those words – what the bloody hell does obsolete mean?" He pulled a mousey first-year out of his chair and fell into it.
"It means old-fashioned," Ariel answered, kicking Oliver out of the armchair and helping the first-year back into it. "Out of date."
"Thanks for clearing that up," Oliver snapped. "It would've been useful information during class."
"Well, you heard McAfee, no talking," Ariel mimicked. "Whatever." She disappeared up the girls' staircase, tossing her red hair back.
"Nice job," Sarah said snappishly, collapsing into an armchair. "Herbology was the most awful, if you ask me."
"What is Professor Longbottom on about?" James said irritably, falling into an armchair himself. "Bubotuber pus? Why the hell would you want so much? There's only so many kids with acne in the school."
"Like Lionel Watters," Oliver said. He guided Dmitri to a chair, as Dmitri's head was stuck in a humongous volume.
"Stupid kid, trying to curse it off," Sarah muttered.
Suddenly, Ariel appeared at the table, holding a broomstick – a very good looking broomstick, but no, it couldn't be….
"Yup," Ariel said happily. "The Firebolt Three-Thousand. Perfect aerodynamic power, resistant against wind, repels water, never chafes, nearly unbreakable. Cost my dad a fortune, but he said it was worth it once I made the Gryffindor team."
James's jaw fell open. "You're actually considering it?" James said, glancing in Oliver's direction. "You weren't serious, were you?"
Ariel put her hands on her hips. "I wasn't joking, you know," she said stiffly.
Sarah leaned over. "Man, for a broom like this, I would do anything," she murmured, fingering the gold lettering on the handle.
"International Committee of Quidditch approved," Ariel boasted, stroking the broomtail. "Can't even bend a twig on this thing."
Oliver eagerly leaned forward, grabbed one of the twigs at the bottom, and pushed upward. Instead of the twig breaking, Oliver's finger merely bent under the twig.
Oliver was utterly baffled. "Merlin's pants," he yelped.
Ariel smiled thinly. "Think I could ace the tryouts with this thing?"
A chorus of "mm-hm"s and "definitely!"s came from her friends. Ariel grinned and ran off to put back her broomstick.
0o0o0o
Early the next morning, Ariel and James met up in the entrance hall. They ate breakfast quickly, long before anyone else was awake, and trooped down to the Quidditch Field early to practice flying before tryouts.
James looked on enviously as Ariel soared around the pitch, waving and yelling hysterically and even attempting the Wronski Defensive Feint, but decided to back out just in time and pulled upward again.
"OI!" yelled Joseph Wood, just as James was clipping the twigs on his Nimbus Four Thousand. "Come down onto the pitch."
James and Ariel shouldered their broomsticks and marched down to the field. A horde of people were already gathered around Wood, yelling and complaining.
Joseph looked around hopelessly, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and blasted the loudest whistle James had ever heard. The group quieted down.
"Thank you," Wood said firmly. He directed them to sit on the grass.
"We'll be holding the tryouts in groups," Wood said. "If you are a first-year or not in Gryffindor house, please leave now."
There was absolute silence, and a group of second-year Ravenclaws, snorting with laughter, scurried off the field.
"Any more?" Wood said, scanning the faces. "Good. You five." He pointed to the foremost five people. "Grab your broomsticks and go near the stands over there. The rest of you go sit in the stands."
James and Ariel stood by the stands while the rest of them sat down.
"Okay, you five," Wood said. "Mount your broomsticks and – is that a Firebolt Three-Thousand?"
"Yup," Ariel said happily. "Nice, innit?"
"I'll say," Wood said cheerfully. "Okay, make three rounds around the stadium. If you can't even do that, you're out."
Two people crashed as soon as their broomsticks left the ground, both second-years. Wood shooed them off the pitch. Now the only people remaining were Harriet Cresswell, James, and Ariel.
"Alright, then. We need a Keeper most of all, since Samuel Westly graduated last year. And the rest of the team will be easier to organize." Wood looked carefully at them all. "Ariel, you're the right build for a Chaser."
"Good, I was going to try out for that," Ariel said in a relieved tone.
"Good, then." Wood glanced at Harriet, a fifth-year. "How about you?"
"I wanted to be a Chaser," she said.
"Good," Wood said. "Light, speedy. That'll be good. And James, you'll try out for Seeker, of course."
"Right," James said.
"Excellent." Wood turned to the stadium and said, "Sonorus."
"All those trying out for Chaser come down to the field," Wood said. "And make a few rounds round the Quidditch pitch."
In the end, Wood ended up eliminating half of the Chaser hopefuls, who walked off the field, dejected. At last he narrowed down three – Ariel, Harriet, and a girl named Chelsea Bridgeway.
"Seekers!" Wood called.
James, Gretchen, and a girl named Lola Jamieson walked onto the field.
"Make a few rounds," Wood said.
James and Gretchen made it around okay, but Lola Jamieson fell off her broomstick halfway.
"Sorry, Lola," Wood said. "You better get that ankle checked out."
Lola limped off the pitch.
"That leaves you two," Wood said. "I'll throw a few Muggle golf balls. Whoever catches the most wins."
Wood called Ariel onto the pitch to throw balls for Gretchen, and they began.
As expected, James didn't miss one, while Gretchen spent most of the time being pelted by balls.
"Clear winner," Wood said, thumping James on the back. "Great. KEEPERS!"
At the end of the tryouts, they'd managed to relist their old, reliable Beater and a new, broad-shouldered Keeper named Terrence Hadley. Wood was still a Beater.
"Great turnout, everyone," Wood said. "Thanks for showing up."
The rejected hopefuls grumbled as they headed off toward the castle. Wood called back the team members into the stands.
"I want this team to train hard," Wood said clearly, looking around at them all. "Let's win this Quidditch Cup!"
They nodded. Wood dismissed them, and they headed off toward the castle.