AU!
THC
Prompt: (event) Quidditch tryouts
WC: 994
Thorfinn stood in the back of the crowd of players that had gathered on the Quidditch pitch. Someone bumped against Thorfinn's side, and he scowled as he shoved the man away.
"Next, we have the Beater tryouts," Augustus Rabnott, the Appleby Arrows' captain, called out over the players' loud chattering. "Beaters, line up!"
Holding his broom under his arm, Thorfinn strode past the players, elbowing them away just because he could, and made his way to the end of the short line. Only seven other men stood in the queue beside him, and Thorfinn was glad he had already thought of a plan to get the open position.
Rabnott called out, "Alright, I want you all up in the air and when I blow my whistle, I'll let out the Bludgers. Whoever survives the longest will get the position. Clear?"
"Yes, Captain," the men (except for Thorfinn) chorused before mounting their brooms. Thorfinn took his time, reminding himself of the plan.
Once they were all in the air, Thorfinn leaned forward, ready to do his best. The moment the whistle blew, four Bludgers flew up into the air and began attacking the players. Thorfinn held his Beater's bat high and made a beeline for the closest Bludger.
He swung his bat and smacked the Bludger towards the black-haired man flying nearby. Before the man could use his own bat to strike the Bludger, Thorfinn surreptitiously cast a spell at the man's broom.
It bucked and distracted the man from the Bludger's attack; the resounding crash and crack of bones made even Thorfinn wince. The man cried out in pain and clutched his arm to his chest protective, but he didn't seem to be giving up.
Thorfinn pursed his lips and focused on the other players for the time being. He knew the black-haired man would be in too much pain to react to the other Bludgers and would be taken out of the game soon enough.
Thorfinn flew in a smooth loop-the-loop and flexed his arm before he struck the other Bludger with all his strength. He hid his smirk when it sailed straight at the nearest player and got tangled in his swishing robes. The man tried to untangle the Bludger from his clothes, but the furious Bludger refused to let him; it spun and twisted and rolled itself a nice cosy spot in the man's robes before dragging him—and his broom—down towards the ground.
Thorfinn was so busy watching the hilarious spectacle that he almost missed one of the other players whacking a Bludger in his direction. It was only when the large iron ball grazed the backend of his broom that Thorfinn remembered he had to pay more attention to his surroundings. He had to get his head in the game; he couldn't allow himself any distractions. It could very well be fatal.
He soared over the other players' heads and under their brooms while dodging and ducking the Bludgers' aggressive assaults. Every now and then, he would cast a completely innocent wandless spell on the players; after all, Light spells weren't forbidden or considered fouls—only Grey and Dark spells were listed. They really should have thought of that earlier.
It took two more hours of rigorous flying and subtle cheating for the rest of the players to finally give up. In the end, only Thorfinn and that black-haired man with the broken arm were up in the air, relentlessly attacking the Bludgers as they pelted them from all sides. Even though they were outnumbered by the balls, Thorfinn reluctantly realised that the man and he made a good team.
Every time he ducked from an oncoming Bludger, the man would go on the offensive, and when the man dodged, it was Thorfinn's turn to attack. They never spoke; they only communicated via glances and nods, but somehow, they made it work.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Rabnott blew his whistle and both the players made their way down to the ground. Sweat beaded on the man's brow and dipped down the side of his angular face, and his arm hung limply by his side, but Thorfinn had noticed that other than that one pained cry, the man hadn't complained about his injury.
"Rowle and Dolohov, you two were pretty good out there," Rabnott commented, writing something down on the paper on his clipboard. "The team management will look over my report and will get back to you in about a month or so. You may leave."
Thorfinn rolled his eyes but made his way towards the changing rooms, and the other man followed right behind, his arm held to his chest.
Exiting the shower, Thorfinn looked at the man towelling his hair dry single-handedly and said, "You should get that looked at."
The man cocked an eyebrow at him before smirking. "Good to know you care about your victims."
"There's no proof it was on purpose." Thorfinn leaned against the lockers and crossed his arms.
"Of course. A Slytherin never leaves evidence behind; it's in the unofficial rulebook," the man said, snickering under his breath. He winced, massaging the back of his almost-purple arm.
Dolohov… I know that name… Thorfinn cocked his head and ran his fingers through his thick blond hair, thinking where he'd heard that name before. "You're… Antonin Dolohov? I thought you were a Curse Breaker..."
"No, that's my oh-so-brilliant cousin. I'm Catulus Dolohov, former Gryffindor. The one who's not good at anything except for Quidditch."
"Thorfinn Rowle." Thorfinn's heart twinged with guilt at the man's self-deprecating comment. All his life, he had been pigeonholed as the 'big, dumb Viking,' and he didn't like the feeling.
He hesitated for a second before saying, "You can't prove I broke your arm, but... I can at least help you out now. Come on, I'll take you to St Mungo's."
The man grinned. "You know, for a Slytherin, you're not so bad."
Thorfinn grunted. "Don't get used to it."