Author's Note: Thank you my lovelies for the reviews and support! Another chapter 24 hours later and my hands hurt! PLEASE REVIEW, TELL ME EVERYTHING. EVEN COMMENT WHY YOU LOVE THE HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE! I do not mind! All my love.
Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle.
Chapter Four: Hiraeth
By Sunday morning, Isabelle was beginning to realise that her weekend was not for blissful relaxation. And as such, it was turning out to be a complete disaster.
Not only did McGonagall inform them that they had to begin hardcore exam revision, but the lessons were becoming more demanding than ever before. Isabelle barely understood what the Professor was saying during her Transfiguration lessons; asking once or twice for help.
Nonverbal spells were also expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Charms and McGonagall's subject. Isabelle was repetitively looking over at Lily and Amelia for help during her final lesson on Friday. The evening wasn't full of laughter or cheer, like it used to be. Her fellow sixth years were going red in the face, nearly purple, straining to try and turn a toad into a teacup without uttering a word. Isabelle was dreading Herbology on Monday and apprehensive for Potions.
On top of the enormous workload, McGonagall had informed them that homework would begin heavily from now on. She set a two-meter essay on how a wizard under pressure can't manipulate and ruin a non-verbal spell. All Saturday, Marlene, Lily and Amelia had been panicking in front of the Gryffindor fire to try and remember everything.
Isabelle was also worried for Hagrid. She hadn't visited again and the others hadn't seen him at all, except for afar at dinner.
"We've got to go and explain," said Lily, looking up at Hagrid's huge empty chair at the staff table on Sunday, at breakfast.
"I've got Quidditch tryouts this morning!" said Amelia, she was in Quidditch robes, her cheeks the same colour as the Gryffindor emblem. The girl felt as if her heart could beat out her chest. "And we're supposed to be practicing that Aguamenti Charm from Flitwick. Anyway, explain what? How are we meant to tell him our exams are more important than his company?"
"Why don't we see him afterward?" Isabelle asked but Amelia began hyperventilating slightly, she started fanning her warm face.
"I'm so nervous. There hasn't been a female chaser in seven years. I know I'm fast but... how fast is fast enough?" She threw her head down, nearly splattering her cereal everywhere. She rested her head her shaking hands and stared down at the bland bowl of cardboard pieces mixed with almond milk.
"Well, that's not entirely true," Isabelle replied. "We can go down after seven, we don't need to revise all the time, not until exam time."
"I have to revise Potions tonight," Marlene whined. "I've completely forgotten all the uses of wolfsbane and that's what our first topic is on. I really need to focus on my NEWT and Hagrid is not the way to do that. He's got Dargis and those pumpkins outside."
"I hate not talking to Hagrid," said Lily, looking upset.
"We'll go down after Quidditch," Isabelle assured her. She was missing Hagrid's kind words because they were empty of prejudice and pure blood mania, he understood everything Isabelle needed to be reassured with."I'm not sure what time it'll finish, apparently dozens are applying for Gryffindor team."
"Dozens?" Amelia gulped. She went sickly pale, the thought making her feel sick. "And there's only three places available."
Putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, Isabelle gave a brave smile. "And one to land an apprenticeship with the Harpies. You'll do great and we'll all be there cheering you on. Dozens of them are lame prats compared to the best Quidditch player in the school."
Lily grinned. "You'll smash it, querido."
They knew Amelia always felt better if you spoke to her like her mother spoke to her; kindly and with reassurance. The auburn haired girl smiled at Lily, but still felt like she was going to vomit.
In the common room, two Quidditch-clad Gryffindors were looking at their outfits with heavy chests, weighed down with inevitable tiredness.
"We've got to, Prongs." Sirius clapped his friend on the shoulder, assuming a brave expression. "Just do it, alright? How bad can it be?"
James frowned. "I can't, Padfoot. They can't really make us, can they?"
"No," Sirius shook his head. "But if we don't, you realize that we won't have a Quidditch team."
"A tragedy, I'm sure. Four isn't that bad, Alois can fill in for all the chasers and we can go to the library to read or study."
"We are not going to watch Evans study, Prongs." Sirius deadpanned. His arms were full of Quidditch gear, spares for the second years who bought a thin shirt against the freezing September morning mist. James unraveled the parchment he'd been clutching. "Besides, Williams said Evans would be in watching."
"Watching?"
"Well, not watching you... but she'll be there."
James sighed again. "Yeah. Why are tryouts so terrible?"
"I don't know mate, but we have to do it."
"But I don't want to."
Sirius led the way out of their room, hurrying down the steps quickly. It was quiet, a Sunday, which only made the idea of tryouts even less appealing. Two-thirds of Gryffindor weren't out of bed yet which meant it was peaceful and quiet against the roar of the fire.
James sighed. Pulling a tack off the Gryffindor Common Room notice board, the Quidditch Seeker placed a slip of parchment squarely in the center of the board and pushed the tack through the top. It was usually Remus' job but he had hobbled over to medical bay for an anti-headache ointment that morning. Potter looked up at the parchment, his friend's scribbled handwriting plastered in thick ink:
GRYFFINDOR TRYOUTS
2ND-7TH YEARS ONLY
TODAY 9 A.M.
"How many first-year Hufflepuffs do you reckon will show up?" Sirius wondered.
"Oh, at least half of them," dropped James. "C'mon. Let's get to breakfast. Looking at this just makes me want to knock myself off a broom."
Sirius left the Common Room with him, but said as they started down the corridor: "I can't have breakfast this morning with you, Dumbledore wants to see me."
"Really? What about?"
"I don't know. Apparently, there's a confidential letter from my mother, so I assume I've been put up for adoption. Or at least, I hope."
James looked down, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "You always have the worst summers, mate." There was a heartbeat of silence then he looked back up. "But other than that, nothing about behavior?"
Sirius' lip turned up on the right, the only answer to just how rough the break away from Hogwarts had been. "Who knows?" He said lightly. "Maybe he found out those dungbombs were us and not Mulciber like everyone thought."
James laughed. "Speaking of, I saw the git down that corridor walking to the hall." They both looked down the deserted walkway, annoyance poking them both. The Slytherin seeker was a pointy-eared, first-class bint.
"I can already hear his girlfriend screeching."
James scoffed, Agatha Emericson was a pure-blood Slytherin who was convinced her great grandfather was Emeric the Evil. She had a hooked nose that made you think she was constantly smelling something rancid and a pair of beady eyes that seemed to be in everyone's business. Both boys thought they'd never seen a girl so horrendously ugly, her personality was the only thing worse to encounter.
With his mood lifted by his friend, but the inevitably Quidditch practice that loomed overhead. James offered a half-hearted smile as they reached the oak doors to the hall. "This is where I leave you."
"Yeah mate, have a good breakfast. Don't hit anyone," Sirius lightly hit his friend's shoulder, a grin on his face.
They parted ways and Sirius took a slow stroll to Dumbledore's office, he hadn't said anything because internally his heart was thundering away. He dreaded opening the letter from Walburga, because that meant bad news.
It could've been about the attacks several days ago, but he couldn't imagine why his mother would so openly admit in the headmaster that their pure-blood mania was excelled beyond the normal distaste towards muggle-borns.
The slow walk wasn't slow enough, Sirius stood before the Gargoyle and stared up. He began clicking his finger nervously at his side. He didn't know the password. Mrs. Norris slithered out from behind a tapestry, turning to look up at him with lamplike eyes.
"Might surprise you but I'm meant to be here. Now, piss off," Sirius hissed which caused Mrs. Norris to slunk away back to her hiding spot.
Sirius tried to remember what the note had said. Remus' owl had flown through the window to deliver it.
"All the best wishes. P.s my favourite puddings are french fancies!"
"French Fancy," said Sirius.
The gargoyle sprang to life and leaped aside: revealing a splitting wall that made way for a spiral staircase. He stepped onto the moving stairs, listening the wall close with a thud.
It stopped outside a large oak door, furnished with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. Going to pull on it, his hand missed and grabbed mid-air; the door was already opening.
"Good morning, Mr Black!" Professor Dumbledore's voice called from deep within his office.
The room was bathed with dull September skies, it's grey appearance created a dull shine on the silver instruments on the shelves and tables. Sirius tried to shake off the sickness in his stomach.
Looking up, Sirius' eyes landed on Dumbledore. He was sat at his high-backed chair: leaning forward over a stack of parchment. In a deep purple set of robes, embroidered with gold stars.
"Hello, Sirius," Dumbledore smiled again. "Are you settling well into your new school year?"
Sirius went to nod and then asked what was so important about his mother's letter that he had to be called to the office but then his eyes landed on a tall figure sat next to Dumbledore's desk.
The boy was in fourth year, as tall as Sirius and with thick curly hair that was a shade lighter. His black eyes were watching him silently, like he was calculating what would happen.
Sirius gave Regulus a cold glare. "What are you doing here?"
"Mother knows you're taking Muggle Studies, she told me she was going to send you a letter but I guessed it would be a howler. I know how much you love those, so I had Dumbledore intercept it so save you the embarrassment at breakfast today. You don't have to thank me."
"Wasn't planning on it," he hissed.
"You should, it's caused an uproar, Sirius. It's going to get blown out of proportion—"
"Why do you care?" Sirius snarled at his brother.
Why did he care? Regulus asked himself, he stopped moving forward and recoiled like Sirius was burnt him.
"I'm the only person in that house that knows you."
"You don't know me. You only know our family name, the Black name. You're just as sick as the rest of them," Sirius spat. "I heard you talking with our father about... about You-Know-Who."
Regulus glanced at Dumbledore, who did not meet his eye but watched Sirius struggle to control himself.
"Mr Black, if you please," he said softly, holding up a vicious red envelope. "I do believe this is yours."
Storming up to the desk, Sirius ripped the letter from the headmaster's grip and nearly faltered in opening it. He slid a finger under the dried red wax and felt the paper begin to grow warm.
Smoke sizzled from the card, smelling of burnt lavender and the ointment his mother used on her wrinkled skin.
It then burst open, scaring Sirius so he tripped and went crashing down the stone steps. He landed on his back with a painful groan.
"Sirius." Regulus went to help his brother but his mother's shrill voice startled him. Both brothers stared at the red card as it flew towards Sirius.
"SIRIUS ORION BLACK, HOW DARE YOU DECEIVE ME!" Walburga screamed. "HOW DARE YOU DEFY THE ORDER AND BELIEFS OF THIS FAMILY — TAKING A MUGGLES STUDIES CLASS AND THINKING THAT I WAS FOOLISH ENOUGH TO NEVER FIND OUT." Sirius felt his stomach drop, like a bomb of self-hate and regret. He stared breathing heavily, watching with wide eyes.
"THE DISHONOR YOU PUT ON THIS NAME, THE DISHONOR YOU PUT ON YOURSELF —"
"IT'S APPALLING. YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN SO DISGUSTINGLY MENDACIOUS AND YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT, SIRIUS ORION." The voice was relentless, it's tone hit the drum of your ear and Sirius wanted nothing more than to go deaf and not listen to anything ever again. "YOU WILL REMOVE THE SUBJECT, AND YOURSELF FROM PARTAKING IN ANYTHING DO TO WITH THIS DISGUSTING WAY OF LIFE.
OUR WAY IS THE OLD WAY, OUR WAY IS THE RIGHT WAY. YOU WILL RETURN HOME AT THE END OF TERM AND YOUR FATHER SHALL ENJOY ENFORCING THE RULES OF THE BLACK FAMILY UPON YOUR MUGGLE-SATURATED AMOUR PROPRE."
The howler let out a loud screech and collapsed on the floor. In the corner of the paper was the Black family crest; special howler paper that didn't burn because the Black way is the best way; they meant what they said.
Silence settled inside Dumbledore's Office. It was a deep, heavy silence full of ominosity Sirius felt it sitting on his chest as he sat up on the palms of his hands, staring at the spot where his Mother's voice was once screaming at him.
Eyes falling down to the collapsed paper, he blinked away the hot tears. Dumbledore could not see him cry and neither could his brother. He hated when his mother shouted and he despised it when she screamed.
Regulus open and closed his mouth, trying to think of the right thing to say. It was his fault their mother found out about Muggle Studies, he'd left Sirius' results letter on his pillow at home after reading it. Something in his throat forced him choke on his words and all he did was watch his older brother struggle to his knees and then to his feet.
Professor Dumbledore had moved foreword in his seat and had his hands clasped together loosely. He looked down at Sirius through his spectacles as if the boy was a question.
Black's back ached from the fall down the stone steps, the muscles cried out when he stretched down to pick up the letter. Holding it out in his hand, his let it sit there before crushing the paper into a fist.
Sirius held it so tightly that his hand began to hurt. The burning of his bitten nails digging into his palm created a static noise in his ears; he wanted it to hurt.
"Mr Black," Dumbledore repeated. "If you will, please stop trying to turn your letter to dust. I can burn it in my fireplace, would that make you happy?"
He wasn't in the mood for jokes, he wasn't in the mood for anything. However, he still reluctantly hobbled back up the stairs and put it in front of Dumbledore with a sour face.
"I'm not dropping Muggle Studies," Sirius said. "It's just a lesson, I don't care."
"I do not agree with the reasoning but if it would make you happy to avoid the confrontation, then I can arrange extra potions, perhaps?"
"No. Don't."
Regulus stood up, his dark eyes on his brother glaringly. "You need to drop it, Sirius. Mother won't stop."
"Good. I don't care if she doesn't, does she think I'll become a muggle if I learn about them?"
"That's exactly what she thinks." Regulus said icily. "She's not well, we know that, but you need to listen to her. Muggles are dangerous for us."
"I'm not talking to you about something that's none of your damn business. I won't reply, I'm not going to bring it up. She can suffer for all I care."
"Sirius —"
"No! Regulus, I'm done here and so are you. Write back to Mummy and tell she's insane, tell her the whole lot of you deserve to choke."
Dumbledore watched the exchange between the two brothers, not flinching when they raised for voices or making a move to stop Sirius when he stepped towards the door. His expression was calm and detached.
"Sirius," Dumbledore said gently. "Please do not take it out on Regulus. I do believe there is a lot going unsaid here—"
"Professor," Sirius' voice came sharply, he met the twinkling eyes with bitter ones. "I'm sorry but I've said everything and I think I've had enough embarrassment for one day." His eyes met his brother's coldly. "Do not try and talk to me about this, Reg. Or I'll curse you."
He stormed out of the office without listening to Regulus try and call him back. The moving steps were going too slow, the statue moved as if it had all the time in world.
Sirius burst through the half-opened wall and ignored the Gargoyle shouting: "You're welcome! Ignorance is bliss!"
There was raging, hot fury coursing through him. Never had he opened a howler in front of the headmaster, there had been ones before but always with his friends and now teachers would know that belonged to a name who were the foulest family in the wizarding community.
His mother's voice, her screams and shouts. It all filled up Sirius' head, he couldn't get away from it. And the screech, that screech at the end was her when she lost control.
Throwing a hand out, he slammed a fist against the wall and the skin split open. "FUCK!" He shouted.
And now the rest of his day would be Quidditch practice, and Sirius just wanted to throw himself back into bed.
James Potter was exhausted, annoyed and craving his bed that morning. He ducked around a corner of the castle and withdrew his cigarettes, entirely unsure of what the rules were in regard to it.
In fact, he knew that it wasn't something the school condoned. James just didn't want to be the one who influenced any first years to copy him. Remus would've joined him today except he had gone to the Quidditch Pitch early to make sure only Gryffindors had turned up.
As the Quidditch Seeker, James was thankful that he didn't need to be there to welcome the newbies. He lifted his head up and exhaled, watching grey smoke into blur into the pale morning air. All he could think of was how much he didn't like smoking alone.
"I half expected you to go back to bed," remarked a voice that made James nearly jump. Sirius appeared with a smirk.
"Believe me, I'm in the right state to put myself in a coma and sleep the rest of the year off." Replied James, offering Sirius a cigarette.
He took it from James' outstretched fingers.
"How did the meeting go? With Dumbledore?"
Sirius inhaled the nicotine, relishing the sour taste and heavy lining of warmth it gave his throat. Leaning against the wall, he slipped his other hand into the pocket of his Quidditch trousers.
Both boys were geared up in their house robes for tryouts, about to commence. In addition to the black trousers (with a red and gold stripe against the outside of the leg); was their scarlet and gold robes; long-sleeved undershirts; and knee pads, elbow pads, gloves, and boots all of the same brown leather. It still let the chilly Autumn wind in.
Sirius exhaled. "He had a letter from home." he laughed. "Well, that house. It was a howler he'd got a hold of so I didn't embarrass myself at breakfast. Regulus was there, too. She found out I take Muggle Studies, bloody muggle studies." James didn't say anything, only watching Sirius as he fought to keep himself relaxed. "I don't know what was worse, the fact I couldn't hide that I'm a coward when Walburga screams at me or having Dumbledore listen to the entire thing and not say a word."
As it was, James was grateful for his cigarette.
"You always have a place at mine, Sirius. Just leave."
For a while, they were quiet. No conversation was necessary for each to know what the other was thinking, when it came to the tryouts. They usually went terribly. Last year, fifteen students had flown and proved inadequate, especially when half smashed against the goal posts.
If that happened this year, Sirius didn't know what he'd do with himself. Loving the game and hating the practice were two different things.
"What did your brother say about the howler?" James asked in the silence.
"He told me I should take our mother's advice and drop the subject. I don't think he cared about the reputation, just trying to avoid a domestic over Christmas break."
"Stay at mine. Don't go there."
Sirius exhaled quickly, letting all the nicotine out in one exasperated blow. "I might have to take you up on that offer."
There was a unified chatter around the side of the castle. Peering round, James watched a group of girls laughing their way down to the Quidditch Pitch. The one he saw first was the girl with bright red hair that reached down to her waist.
James didn't feel like he had it in him to call out Evans' name. She'd just throw him her middle finger again, or ignore him entirely.
She always did that and no matter how hard James thought, he couldn't figure out what he was doing wrong. Earlier, Remus was walking beside Greta Catchlove with several brooms in his arms as well as her books, a shy smile on his face. Potter would give anything to be a stumbling mess in front of Lily as long as he could have a five minute conversation that didn't involve: 'leave me alone,' or 'how many time do I have to say, I can't stand the sight of you'.
"Come on." James threw his cigarette down and stomped his boot on it. This time, he didn't hurry Sirius because he couldn't stand the idea of Lily ignoring him again.
Isabelle blew into her gloved hands, eyes on the field. It was absolutely freezing, the temperature was colder than normal with an air so thick the sun's warmth was not destined to hit all day. Up in the Quidditch stands, the wind hit her cheeks like a bite.
Beside her, Marlene shivered in her red, gold embroiled shawl. Greta Catchlove had also joined their group, she had been sat on her own before and was occupied with stroking Eris, immersed in his elegance.
Isabelle rolled her eyes at him, he loved attention far too much. But that factor was also a blessing. If you were kind, Eris knew that and it meant Isabelle knew the right sort of friends and the wrong sort.
"He's lovely," she said in a wispy voice. "He's very tame, did you have to train him?"
"No, he was really scared when I got him. Sort of just grew as I did when I came to Hogwarts."
Lily cooed Eris. "I'm in love with him, Merlin. I wish I had a bobcat instead of an owl. And she doesn't like the owlery here so she stays at home - might as well not have one at all."
"You can use my rat," Greta said vaguely, her eyes were always glossy like she was thinking of something else far away. "Rats are excellent message carriers."
"Thanks Gretes. Next time I'm sending a box of pumpkin pasties, I'll let you know."
Isabelle covered her mouth so Greta didn't hear the snort she choked on.
The lanky arm of Alistair then caught her attention. He hooked it around her shoulders as the stands began to get busier. Seat were filling up quickly, people were using Quidditch as an excuse to not revise and they'd ditched their books for binoculars. It was so difficult to see what was happening from where Isabelle was sat.
On the pitch, there were two groups; a smaller one, with four Gryffindor players (Remus, James, Sirius and Alois) and a larger one. Isabelle strained to see Amelia's tiny figure stood a little off from the rest of them.
Peter Pettigrew crept in front of Isabelle's line of vision. He was timidly waving. "Can I sit with you?"
Alistair hit the seat beside him, a large grin on his face. "'Course, Pettigrew."
He took the empty spot with a pleased smile. Peter was so scared of being rejected, it made Isabelle want to be his friend even more. Leaning forward, she looked at the timid Gryffindor.
"Have you ever tried playing Quidditch, Peter?"
He shook his head, looking down at his friends. "Oh, no. Well, I tried out with them but I kept falling off. I'm not strong enough to hold onto the broom." He caught Isabelle's pitiful expression. "N-not that, that makes me upset. I prefer being in the stands, I like cheering."
"That's good. You can always stand with us at the next game. I don't usually go, but if you want Lily and I will make an appearance."
She ignored Alistair's huff. Ever since they'd started dating, Isabelle always wriggled out of watching the games because she found they were dreadfully boring.
"That would be great, Is." Peter nodded.
There was a loud whistle. Remus and the others were kicking off the ground and flying up into the middle of the pitch.
Isabelle recognized several lower year Gryffindors: Abernathy, Kole and Paxton Drew as well as Oakes and Yarborough. The others were students she'd never seen before.
Sirius Black was holding the quaffle and the bludger. It was amazing how he could balance on the broom without falling off. Throwing the balls up in the air, he shouted something and a couple of the tryouts shot off to grab the quaffle.
He was in the goal post, throwing an arm around, barking orders to the players. Remus looked on at his potential team members, he was best at studying, exceptionally good at judging whether someone was a good flyer. The couple dozens Gryffindors who attempted to score, failed and miserably flew to the back of the group. Isabelle watched, her eyes the size of saucers when it came to Amelia.
The Drew twins had gone before and left the stands whispering excitedly. Sirius couldn't catch the quaffle they'd lobbed at him, nearly knocking the Gryffindor keeper from his broom.
From the stands, you couldn't tell that Amelia was sweating her Quidditch clothes off, her clothes were soaked. She watched Remus fling the quaffle into the air and a sudden adrenaline kicked in. Flying across the field, Amelia dove past the Alois. Oakes screamed as she soared past and ripped the quaffle from it's descent. Her body became a blur of red and gold, the ringing of proud screams created a surge of pride.
Amelia threw the quaffle at the top goal post, missing Sirius' outstretched fingers by miles.
The Gryffindors in the stands shot up and started screaming with pride, cheering her name was mainly Lily and Marlene. Isabelle waved her arms around like a lunatic, brandishing a huge lion-crested scarf with happiness. "WOO!" Isabelle clapped with a smile. "YOU DID IT! I'M SO PROUD!"
"WELL DONE, AMELIA!" Lily shouted, hooking an arm around Isabelle's shoulder. "She's doing so well!" She said gleefully.
"Come on, Is. It's just tryouts." Alistair laughed, pulling her back into the seat. She slipped out of Lily's grip.
Slightly out of breath, she looked at him. "Yeah, but that's my best friend. And she's going to make the team!"
Alistair watched Marlene and Lily applauding still. "You never cheered like that for me."
"We weren't dating during your tryouts."
"But didn't you think I was incredibly attractive? My amazing hair and personality must have caught you attention early on."
"When I was thirteen, the last thing I was thinking of was boys." Isabelle giggled, she could barely remember what he looked like back then. Ali smiled down at her and asked. "Want to go back to the castle?"
She rolled her eyes and gave him a shove. "Stop being such a bore."
"Don't be daft," Alistair scoffed. "I really only came here to sit with you and check out this years' competition. Amos wants us to be ready, I'm like an unspeakable."
Isabelle shook her head, laughing. "You take Quidditch too seriously. Is it so hard to just sit here and not think of how you would've caught the balls before they went into the goal?"
"The balls? The goal?" He began laughing. "That's so muggle. They're called goal posts because they're hooped, not a rectangle on the floor of some muddy field."
"Muggle games aren't that bad, you know. My father likes to play golf and chase my mother around the field with the clubs."
Ali took her hand and didn't say anything, he tangled in his fingers between hers and offered a smile.
"When are Hufflepuff tryouts?" Isabelle asked.
"Next Saturday, but we have everyone on the team we need."
"Didn't you say last year that Xavier was completely useless?" Isabelle grinned. He was the reason Hufflepuff nearly lost the Cup, Alistair was so furious that he could barely speak to anyone. "You got stroppy with him."
"Stroppy?" He repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Quidditch means a lot to me, but we don't want any one ruining our chances. Xavier knows not to mess up again."
Isabelle didn't want to know whether the Hufflepuff team had threatened their chaser, so she didn't ask. Turning back to the pitch, she watched earnestly as the quaffles chased the others.
One hit the boy named Abernathy hard in the shoulder and he went spiralling down to the ground in a heap. Sirius put his fingers to his mouth and whistled.
"Clean that up!" He shouted to Abernathy's third year friends, who hurried onto the pitch and helped him limp away.
"Oh, dear." Lily said softly. "Do you that was painful?"
"Dunno, but I hope it really hurt." Marlene said. She hated Abernathy because he once used her as a human shield when Peeves went on a slime-throwing rampage.
At the far side of the field was Alois and Remus, hovering next to each other in deep debate. They had picked three-quarters of the tryouts to leave the stadium. Isabelle couldn't understand why some would compete if they'd never flown before, the number of candidates she'd watched struggle to keep their brooms up was laughable.
Amelia was still doing exceptionally well for herself, she hadn't missed a goal and kept dodging the bludgers.
Kole and Paxton Drew were thrown bats and knocked them together, getting to work as if this was a normal day. They were in their fourth year and rumored to be able to talk telepathically. It wouldn't be a surprise, they spiraled through the air in a hypnotizing dance; looping and gliding under each other. Isabelle watched their symmetrical white-blond hair fly off around the field, whacking the bludgers hard. Some of the onlookers swooned.
Admittedly, Amelia wasn't that good at being a beater. She couldn't swing her arm far enough backwards to get a good hit and struggled on her own. If it weren't for her talent to dodge, she would've been pummeled by the bludgers.
"She was so nervous as well." Isabelle told Ali, she fought to keep him interested. "Gryffindor haven't had a female player in years." Isabelle threw a worried glance back to Ali then focused back on the players zooming past. "Hufflepuff haven't either, right?"
"Well, that's because we don't need one," he replied, looking away from James Potter practicing to catch the snitch over and over again. "Our team is amazing."
"Have any girls been to a tryout?"
"No, because girls don't particularly like Quidditch."
When Oakes fought to control his broom, Isabelle knew he wasn't going to make the team. He's slipped twice off the equipment and dangled there until he could clamber back up. However, when Amelia flew past again with a big smile, Isabelle went back to the ill-informed Hufflepuff.
"Clearly girls like Quidditch. Times are changing now. You do know Quidditch was created by a girl in the 11th century?
"Yeah, but Gertie Keddle didn't play the game."
"Yes, she did, you spoon. She used a cabbage as the first Quaffle with her friend Gwenog in Manchester. Aren't you meant to be a Quidditch genius?" Isabelle smiled widely. Ali tightened his grip on her hand and shook his head.
"Fine, fine. You're right as per usual, but we didn't need a girl to win last year."
Isabelle didn't want to argue with him anymore, once Alistair had an idea, he didn't let it go. She knew she would have to listen to him complaining about it later as well.
"Oh, look! Isabelle, there's Amelia! She's at the front of the group."
They watched and rooted for her until lunch, where most of the stand occupants left for food. On the way back to the castle, Isabelle fought of Alistair's claw-like hands, pleading that they went to the dormitories for the rest of the afternoon. He reluctantly accepted her decline and planted several wet kisses over her cheeks, running off to occupy his time elsewhere. Probably telling Amos about the Drew brothers or Johnson.
When the Gryffindors returned to the stadium, Peter was adorning a large jumper and gloves so he wouldn't shiver as much as he did that morning. Lily and Isabelle were holding some sandwiches and glass bottles of water for Amelia after the tryouts.
"She'll be so tired later," Lily sighed as they sat back down. Isabelle nodded, focusing on the pitch once again. On her lap, Eris was chewing a chicken slice, amber eyes enlarged as he watched the players zoom around. She ran a hand through his soft cheeks and cooed him.
In fact, Eris was more interested in Quidditch than any other creature she'd known. Bobcats were familiar to the workings of magic; the wrestling self-willed wayward of it all was also wrapped up in that small, furry bundle that... when in a good mood would sit on your knee and purr. Magic never sat on anyone's knee and purred.
The sun was setting behind the ashy clouds when James finally let out an exasperated groan.
"Remus," he said, looking out across the Quidditch pitch. There was a sudden stab in his left temple and his rubbed it harshly. "It's six o'clock. Six o'clock at night, and we've been here nine hours. I can't fucking believe this."
The rest of the Gryffindors exchanged worn out shrugs, stood in a semi-circle around Black, Lupin, Potter and Alois. They were all sweaty, panting a little as they clutched the balls, bats and brooms.
"We took a ten minute break," Sirius pointed out lightly.
"Eight hours and fifty minutes, then," James corrected himself. "Remind me to kill you in your sleep tonight, Black."
"Please. You'd wake up and start crying if I was actually gone."
James scoffed as Remus ushered the tryouts to take a seat. Despite the chill, everyone was still boiling. Potter yanked off his gloves and threw them into a box of spare equipment, catching sight of red hair in the stands. Evans had been there all day, battling the chill just to watch Amelia Johnson.
"You noticed she's still up there?" Sirius' voice appeared. "She's been there as long as we've been down here."
"Yeah. She's here for Johnson, though."
Sirius looked back at the sixth year Gryffindor, she was waving up at her friends, who were waving back frantically. The girl had been so timid at the start of the day, but was blooming with pride now. He looked at Remus and Alois, both in deep debate about the tryouts.
Sirius had already figured out who should be on their team. It had been a long day but tryouts had gone better than his cigarette-induced morning had dreaded. "Johnson for chaser, Moony," he called out.
"Johnson?" James questioned. "Hm. What does Alois think? They have to be a team, and he's got social anxiety."
"No, he doesn't. Paxton has anxiety, look at him." Sirius pointed to the shorter twin. Sure enough, he was chewing his lip nervously and watching the lower years. "Poor git."
"They are kind of off-putting though, aren't they? That Yarbrough made me nervous with how he flew through the hoops..."
Remus blew a whistle. "Padfoot! Prongs, come here!"
They looked up to see Remus had taken a walk straight out to the middle of the pitch, away from the newbies' earnest stares. The two boys caught up with him quickly.
"Right," Remus said, looking around the stadium. He turned around, taking in the entire scale of the pitch; the long stands that surrounded him, the tall sky and it's impossibilities, the grass under his feet and posts painted gold. All the things that would help him win. "I want the Drew twins as beaters. I can see them working really well together under pressure."
Sirius scoffed. "Paxton can't work under pressure, he's over there shaking like a scared little boy."
"He does when his brother is around. The way they flew today was brilliant teamwork, maybe it's not apart they're good, but together they're great." Sirius looked at Alois for a long moment, thinking about how he envisioned the team. The chaser was right.
"I want Johnson on the team. She needs to be." Sirius said, looking back at the bustle of people waiting for an answer. "She's passionate about Quidditch. Yes, she can't be a beater, but she's fast."
Remus chewed the inside of his cheek. "I really like Matthews as a chaser," he said feebly. "But he wasn't as fast as Johnson, I'll admit."
"And he missed two out of seven goals," James interjected. "Johnson is who we need, Alois, the chasers are a team. What do you think?"
"I want her. She's remarkable, I can see what Williams was talking about to you, Remus."
The decision was finalized; the captain, seeker, keeper and beater all shook hands. For the first time that they, they all felt a relief that the hardest part was over and they could get to training. Sirius and James walked behind their captain with Alois and watched as the names of everyone who wasn't successful get named and shamed.
A couple of the second years got teary and ran off to the changing rooms, the rest just shot them dirty looks and left in silence. When Johnson and the Drew boys were the only ones left, the three of them were bursting with excitement. It meant they'd made it, they were the three Remus was looking for.
Or, they did so awfully that the current team wanted to give them a good telling off.
Sirius and James shared an amused look when they caught Amelia rocking on the balls of her feet.
"Johnson," Remus called. "Congratulations, you're our new chaser. Kole and Paxton, you're our beaters. Can't say we've ever had twins on the team before."
There was no one to scream and hug Amelia so she stood there and tried to supress her huge grin. The brothers roared with happiness, clapping for one another with joy until Remus coughed for them to quieten down.
"We train every Friday afternoon or Sunday morning," he said. "Someone will let you know which is which during the week. When the first game is announced, training will go three times a week. Are you ready to make that commitment?"
Amelia nodded quickly, her ponytail swishing. "Good," Remus said. "Welcome to the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."
References:
"Magic never sat on anybody's knee and purred." is a reference to Robin Mckinley's Spindle's End which is an adaptation of Sleeping Beauty. I love his writing so much.
- 'AMOUR PROPRE' basically means a sense of one's worth.
- Xavier is a name I got from the book version of Pretty Little Liars.
Author Comment: when I was writing Walburga's howler, all I could think of was Mushu from Mulan screaming 'dishonour on you, dishonour on your cow!' and if you thought too then I am sorry