Word count: 376
It's like this
"Merlin, I can't believe I'm doing this. What if I fail, what if they don't want me. Lisa, Quidditch is all I have!"
"Calm down Gwen," said soothingly Lisa as she rubbed her best friend's arms. "You'll do just fine. You were the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in years, and they'd be foolish not to want you. And there are other teams, you know."
"But they're the Harpies! You know I've always wanted to be part of the Harpies…"
Gwenog was pacing in the small waiting room all the prospective players had been ushered in as soon as they showed up. They had been there for hours already, and now she was the only one left who still hadn't had her try-outs.
Just as she was thinking that it might be better if she left and avoided the shame of being refused – because, come on, this was a try-out for the Holyhead Harpies, which were like the best team ever, and so there was no way she would ever be good enough at nineteen to be part of them – her name was called.
She felt ill. Her hands were shaking, but she stood with her back straight as she took her broom and went to the field.
"You'll blow their minds away, Gwen. I know you will!" Lisa told her as she left the room, but even the friendly encouraging words weren't enough to make her smile.
She was too busy trying not to puke. It was her first match all over again, back when she had first started Quidditch at Hogwarts. She had been so sick then it had been a wonder they had let her on a broom at all.
She stood in front of her idols – at least she would be able to say she had met the Harpies – and mounted her broom.
"Gwenog Jones, Beater."
And then she was up in the air, and she didn't feel ill at all.
No, in fact she felt wonderful. There, in the sky with a bat in her hand she had so much energy she could do this for hours.
(Two days later, she got the news – she was on the team. She didn't think anyone had ever been this happy.)