"Oliver, this is a terrible idea," Percy repeated for the billionth time as the twins finished forcing him into Gryffindor robes. Despite several weeks of practices (during which he had, as far as he could tell, failed miserably), they had for some reason not given up on the idea that he ought to play Seeker. He really wasn't very good at this. Certainly nothing compared to Charlie had been. "Why me?" he asked in despair.
"You're slightly better than our other options," replied Fred cheerfully, because Oliver, the target of this question, was studiously ignoring him. George added, somewhat seriously, "C'mon, Perce, at least do us a favor and try?"
Percy sighed and picked up his broom. Fred did have a point, to his annoyance. Oliver had, reluctantly, held tryouts a few weeks ago (although Percy had refused to participate), and apparently they'd actually failed to find an adequate replacement. Considering the low standard of "capable of flying a broomstick without crashing into anything", Percy had been absolutely, completely shocked. So shocked, in fact, that he'd agreed to do it, a decision that he was currently very much regretting. Surely there was a better option. Like, they could get Katie to do it, maybe, she was a better flier than he was, and littler, that was supposed to be a good thing for Seekers, wasn't it?...
"Good man," said George brightly, clearly unaware that this was all going to go horribly wrong. "Let's do this."
Lee Jordan, as usual, had got hold of the microphone. He'd been doing this since the first game of his first year, and Percy genuinely had no idea how that had happened. "Alright everybody, it's our first game of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin!" he yelled, clearly unaware that the point of microphones is to prevent you from having to yell. "We've all been wondering who Oliver Wood would get for a Seeker this year, and today he's fielding Gryffindor prefect Percy Weasley! After a few years of trying to replace Charlie Weasley, it looks like he's banking on genetics!"
Right, because that was totally a sensible way to pick Quidditch players, thought Percy, squashing the little voice in his head that said but the rest of your family is good at this game, you know. "This is a bad idea," sighed Percy aloud, again, as they mounted their brooms. He glanced into the stands longingly, thinking that watching a Quidditch game sounded dramatically more desirable as an afternoon activity when compared to playing in one. Then he wondered if if Penelope was there. He half-hoped she was and half really hoped she wasn't, because he was probably going down in flames. She probably would show up for the Ravenclaw/Gryffindor game, but as that one came last, he was holding out hope that Oliver would find someone better by then, and Percy could go back to studying in peace.
The captains shook over the grounded Quaffle; as usual, Oliver and Marcus Flint were doing their level best to break each others' hands.
Then, at the sound of a piercing whistle that made Percy wince, they were in the air, and Percy did not have time to wonder whether injuring your opposite number before the game started was technically a foul. He was instead occupied with just trying very hard not to get in the Chasers' way. Only vaguely was he aware of Lee yelling about how Angelina had the Quaffle. That was ... presumably good. He understood the rules of Quidditch, but less so the tactics, and had never been totally clear on the strategical problem of possession and Bludger attraction (apparently, the Bludgers unguided would preferentially attack the player with the Quaffle), because there were a bunch of complicated guidelines about whether or not it was good, in any given situation, to actually - Wait, he'd been told not to worry about that. He had a job, or something.
With any luck he'd only have to do it once, but he might as well try while he was up here.
Where was the other Seeker? Something Higgins, Percy thought his name might be, a seventh-year Slytherin. Oliver had told him that the Slytherin Seeker was really good, and that his best choice would be to mark him and try to stall him in hopes that Gryffindor could pull a significant point lead. Which meant he basically had to try very hard be an annoyance ... and that, of course, meant flinging himself headlong into the way of speeding broomsticks. As opposed to doing the sensible thing and simply staying out of everyone's way, which would have been his natural inclination.
This was going to be a really long day, Percy thought to himself with yet another long-suffering sigh, and accelerated.