"Trials?"
Harry smirked to himself internally as the receptionist glanced at him briefly before returning to her copy of Witch Weekly. How would this lady have reacted if he wasn't in disguise?
"Yes please."
"Name?"
"Vernon Dudley."
The receptionist's Quick-Quotes Quill leapt off the desk and started transcribing notes onto some parchment.
"Position?"
"Seeker."
"Age?"
"17."
The quill paused as the receptionist stopped reading her magazine to look up at him.
"I don't recognise you from the youth academy."
"I'm not from the youth academy." Harry replied, confused.
"Listen, kid," The receptionist grumbled irritably, "we don't have time for fans off the street, what's your junior club?"
"Uhhhh…"
"You don't even have a junior club?"
"I played at Hogwarts…?"
The receptionist rolled her eyes. "Oh, well why didn't you say so? I'm sure your mammoth 20 games of experience have prepared you adequately for the NQL."
Harry decided this wasn't the time to bring up the fact that he hadn't played 10 games, let alone 20.
"Can you give me a single good reason why I should let you through?" The receptionist huffed, massaging her forehead in annoyance.
Harry swallowed. "Well, if you let me through you'll be able to read your magazine in peace instead of arguing with me for the next few hours…"
The receptionist's eyes narrowed and she pierced Harry with a calculating stare for a few moments before…
"Fine. It'll serve the coach right anyway for dragging me in here during the off-season. I already let one kid through who pulled the same stunt you did…"
Harry opened his mouth to thank her but she had already returned to her magazine. The parchment with his information folded itself into a paper plane and took off from her desk. Harry briskly jogged after it, the flying paper leading him down a couple of long corridors before eventually emerging into the open air of the first tier stands. He watched as the paper plane sailed over the rows of seats, unfolded itself in mid-air, and landed neatly atop a pile on a table.
Harry's gaze moved upwards as he took in the inside of the stadium. Thousands and thousands of empty seats towered above him, like a grey tsunami was crashing in from all sides. Just like at Hogwarts, three long poles rose up from either end of the bright green oval, with wide hoops attached to the top of each pole. However unlike Hogwarts, there were hundreds of witches and wizards on brooms flying around the pitch all at the same time. Some were racing each other, others were throwing a Quaffle back and forward, and down on the ground some were even stretching or swinging their bats.
Harry kicked off and rose up to join them in the air, but he hadn't made it up one storey before a booming voice interrupted him.
"ALL APPLICANTS TO THE GROUND NOW!"
One of the roundest men Harry had ever seen was standing next to the table full of papers. He had tufts of brown hair with a large bald spot in the middle, and his whole head seemed to be sinking into his body. A big bushy moustache completely covered his top lip, the hairs quivering from the magical magnification of his voice.
Harry joined the swarm of flyers touching down on the pitch in front of the beefy man, and edged his way through the crowd until he was somewhere in the middle. Even though his appearance had changed, he still didn't want to take any chances of being recognised.
An excited murmur ran through the applicants as four people in blue Quidditch cloaks with crossed golden bulrushes on the front landed next to the coach. Harry smiled as he recognised one of them, these must be Puddlemere players.
"Alright, listen up!" The beefy man removed his wand from his throat and started pacing back and forward. "My name is Philbert Deverill, head coach of Puddlemere United. For those of you who don't know, professional Quidditch squads are made up of 21 players. 7 players on the first team, 7 players on the reserves team, and 7 more players as backups. The 126 of you here today are trying out for a place as a backup, that is, there are only 7 spots up for grabs. When you are eliminated from selection please exit the pitch immediately, it's much more pleasant to leave on your own accord than to get expelled by a banishing charm… OK! Chasers! You'll be with the lady to my right, the captain of the reserves team, Felicity Myers!"
A slim, athletically built woman with slick black hair tied in a ponytail stepped forward. She seemed to have a permanent scowl on her face and took off without a word to one end of the pitch. Players kicked off en masse around Harry to follow her and suddenly he felt a bit exposed, the field of remaining applicants had thinned by half.
"Beaters! You're at the other end of the pitch with this man, you probably recognise him, our top Beater, Dermott Hall!"
A bulky, bald, man, swaggered forward with swinging arms, a wide sneering smile flashing from underneath his grizzly grey beard. He too left without a word, taking about 20 of the applicants with him.
"Keepers! I assume you're all here just to learn because you already know we have two of the best in the world in our squad. If you think you're getting game time you're going to be bitterly disappointed. Today's trials will be taken by our reserve Keeper Oliver Wood!"
Wood stepped forward, smiling at the crowd. Harry watched his eyes scan the applicants, passing right over him. His expression saddened for a brief moment before he turned and kicked off, taking another 10 applicants.
"Alright, so now we just have the heroes," Coach Deverill barked, "you're in luck, running your session today is Puddlemere's star Seeker, Benjy Williams!"
The coach led a round of applause that hadn't been offered to the other Puddlemere representatives as Benjy stepped forward. He was a slightly built man with blonde hair and a disarming smile. He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment and laughed nervously at the applause. A couple of girls to Harry's right giggled behind their hands, clearly two of the fans that the coach had been desperate not to let slow down the trials.
After the applause died down the coach gestured to Benjy that the floor was his, and then retreated to a chair that had been set up next to the table, sinking into it with a relieved grunt. He pulled out a pair of Omnioculars and started watching the Chaser trials while taking notes on his clipboard.
"Thanks for coming everyone," Benjy smiled earnestly, "we're so thrilled you all took the time and effort to try and make Puddlemere United the best team in the country! We'll just start off with something basic, an obstacle course! When I call your name, kick off and follow the trail up and around the top of the stadium, making sure you go through every hoop that appears. Any questions? No? Alrighty! Atwell, Emily. You're up!"
Harry watched the first applicant ready herself before taking off with all her might. She rose higher and higher until she was above the stadium, and then the hoops starting appearing. Unlike the fixed goal hoops at either end of the pitch, these hoops were much narrower and only appeared when the Seeker was within a few metres of them, forcing extreme manoeuvres every single time. Harry was actually quite impressed with Emily Atwell, she'd made it nearly three quarters of the way around the ground before a hoop appeared just too far to her left and she bounced off the edge. She quickly regained control of her broom, spun around, and continued around the course, but there was something in Benjy Williams' voice when she landed that was just a bit too kind that told Harry it had been a fatal mistake.
"Belby, Michael."
A man quite a few years older than Harry with short black hair and a stubble confidently stepped forward and started the obstacle course. Harry realised there were probably quite a few older witches and wizards, some maybe had spent their whole careers in and out of professional Quidditch squads trying to make it through trials like this one, it seemed like a cutthroat industry.
Michael Belby however was not humbled by the pressure. He rocketed through the last ring and skidded to a stop right in front of Benjy Williams.
"Excellent run!" Benjy complimented warmly. "Broadmoor, Kenneth."
Harry let his eyes wander to the other groups as another applicant took to the sky. Prospective Chasers were taking on prospective Keepers as Felicity Myers and Oliver Wood watched on keenly. The Puddlemere Beater, Dermott Hall, was ruthlessly hitting Bludgers at overwhelmed hopefuls, while Coach Deverill continued to watch on through his Omnioculars, unmoving.
Meanwhile, a few more Seekers had run the course, and much to Harry's annoyance most were finishing perfectly. Even those that didn't usually only made 1 or 2 mistakes.
"Dudley, Vernon!"
A few snide sniggers went up from the girls to Harry's right, but he was already in the zone and didn't hear them. The world slowed down as Harry closed his eyes; he let the rhythmic beat of his heart count him down.
10-9
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2-1
Go!
A/N: Thanks for reviewing :)