It's the final lacrosse game of the year and we're tied for the win.
Everything resides on this last play.
My eyes lock on the midfielder of the opposing team rushing toward me as the rubber ball comes soaring my way. I inch closer and position myself at the perfect angle. I hold my breath as it nears, my grip tightening on the lacrosse stick.
I was going to sink this one without a doubt.
A powerful force unexpectedly shoves me from behind. I'm sent face first into the ground and my mouth and helmet fills with grass and dirt. The muffled whistle of the referee rings through my ears as I yank the helmet from my head.
I turn my neck to find my teammate, Sean, towering over me from behind with an evil grin beaming through his helmet.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?!" I shout throwing my helmet to the side. "I WOULD HAVE CAUGHT THAT!"
"Consider this a favor; I prevented the embarrassment of yet another failed catch," Sean pesters. "You'll never go professional with that deformity of yours. Just give up already."
Four years of being bullied by this wanker, on and off the field, and I finally had had enough. He was twice my size.. but from what I had experienced, my anger provided a unique ability to morph into someone, something else.
I black out charging the lower half of his body. My adrenaline ignites as I rip the helmet from his fat head and repeatedly swing my fists at him left and right.
As he fights me onto my side, we roll off the field and down a hill engulfed in 12-inch grass.
The impulsive fight with the massive bloke instantly knocks the wind out of me. Though he was clearly winning the fight, he mounts me; continuing to sucker punch me over and over.
"FIGHT BACK!" he taunts grasping the front of my jersey and pulling my back from the ground.
Everything is spinning and I'm certain if I take one more blow to the head I'll knock out. My fingertips dig into the dirt as he winds back his fist ready to throw one last power punch.
My eyes widen as I relentlessly cough and gag off a healthy dose of grass, dirt, sweat and blood.
Sean suddenly freezes in place; his black eyes peering into mine, his fist still cocked back. "What the fuck," he mutters as the tightening of his grip on my jersey alleviates. "What's your eye doing?"
I viciously blink in an attempt to push the bodily fluids from my eyes. Beginning to feel a bit of strength restored, I fearlessly match his gaze and spit in his direction.
I didn't know that it was possible to get punched so hard that you could lose the ability to see color.. but I suddenly can only see in black and white from out of my left eye.
A heavy rustling of the grass next to us distracts Sean who fully releases me from his grasp. "What're.. what're you doing?" There's a sudden hint of fear in his tone as he exchanges glances between myself and the weeds. "What're you bloody muttering?!"
My head lethargically hangs to the side with my eyes steadfast on the shaking shrubbery. My lips move, but I don't pay attention to what's coming out of them.
I'm in an entranced daze while holding intense focus on the bushes beside us.
"Harry, what are you.. what're you- AHH!"
After hoisting myself up I find Sean scooting his body away from me as fast as he can, stumbling on all fours. I rub my bum eye in an attempt to make sure that I was properly perceiving the scene in front of me.
The lack of ability to see color in my left eye had transitioned to a new phase; some sort of ultraviolet vision.
Either way, black and white or ultraviolet vision, I'm certain that the numerous blows to my head were causing hallucinations. Because If I didn't know any better, a fucking 6-foot-long diamondback rattlesnake had just slithered past my feet on a relentless mission toward Sean.
Its upper body towers over him; rigid as a board. Based off what I'd seen on television, this snake had cornered its prey and was about to strike.
"S-stop man, please.. Harry, I'm-I'm begging you."
My lips continue to move, my eyes widened, my breath hitched in my throat.
The snake turns its body toward me while its tongue rapidly flickers in my direction.
I'm oddly at ease.
I hold stern eye contact with the serpent that has warm green and brown toned scales shimmering against the sunlight. Its body sways back and forth in a small dance. It's hypnotic movements gives the impression that it's contemplating something..
Pausing.
"Harry," Sean pleads. "Please. Don't make it hurt me."
But I don't listen. I feel powerful; in control.
There was no stopping this exhilarating feeling.
I mutter something to the snake that I still can barely make out myself. But the serpent clearly understood what I was instructing while contently listening..
Obeying.
The gargantuan reptile keeps its line of vision directed at me as I slowly nod my head.
Faster than the speed of light, the rattlesnake attacks him; sinking it's fangs into his left cheek. His screams can presumably be heard from across the field.
With one more head nod the snake strikes again, missing his eye this time by centimeters.
Our coach makes an appearance charging toward us. "God dammit! What the hell is going- OH MY GOD! Call an ambulance!" he shouts kneeling beside Sean.
"Get him away from me!" Sean screams, kicking his feet toward me. "Fucking freak!"
My lips twist as I fail to withhold a sinister grin.
Blood continues to pour from my teammate's face. The chaos surrounding us gives the serpent the perfect opportunity to slither away unnoticed.
But it hadn't left my sight for one moment.
It camouflages amongst the lengthy grass until it's no longer in view.
Our goalie throws his equipment on the ground next to me. "Harry, what the bloody hell just happened?!" I accept my teammate's offer to help me up, grasping onto his arm and putting myself back on my feet.
I'm coming to; confused, drained.. vindicated.
"Potter."
I toss on my side gliding a hand over my sweaty face.
"Potter."
I groan as I lash on my other side pulling the covers up to my chin.
"Bloody hell Potter, get your arse up."
My eyes flicker open to find a bloke standing over my bed with icy blonde hair and grey eyes. He holds a wand directed at me which abruptly yanks the blankets from my shoulders to my ankles.
It takes a moment to recognize him or remember where I was.
"Malfoy," I note absent mindedly.
My roommate narrows his eyes at me as he tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms. "Did someone have a bad dream?" he taunts with a smirk.
Bad dream.
More like a nightmare of a memory.
I honestly hadn't remembered the details of that day; the day where my teammate ended up attacked by a diamondback, and the day that ultimately got my scholarship revoked from UCL.
Surely the memory was distorted and out of context like most dreams.. there was simply no way that I single handedly controlled the vicious attack..
Controlled the snake.
That's a load of rubbish.
Reptiles of that size are dangerous creatures and Sean simply ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
At least, that's what I kept reassuring myself.
"Get up you pansy," Malfoy orders. "Unless, of course, you wish to forego the tryouts today. I'm content with it either way, really."
"Doesn't seem that way with you yapping in my ear," I complain throwing my legs over my bed.
He rolls his eyes at me before turning to his full-length mirror in the corner of our room. I watch him throw the black and green cape-like quidditch robes around his shoulders.
After feeding Hedwig I roll out of bed.
I'm trapped inside my head regarding the memory - I mean nightmare. I try to calm myself with the notion that a stressful dream during this time, especially related to sports, was plausible.
On the positive, I had passed the first phase of the quidditch tryouts with flying colors. And I was one of the first to finish the written exam.
But today would be measuring in my personal opinion the most important of skills.
Taking flight.
The Slytherin quidditch team wouldn't just be measuring our ability to get up in the air. The test would be indicative of balance, speed, and most importantly; accuracy.
After I finish throwing on the tryouts uniform, Malfoy and I make our way across the field. I sluggishly drag my feet alongside my roommate who has much more of a pep in his step than me.
It's 7 A.M. on a Saturday and the sun is still in the process of rising.
We find the line of chaser candidates and take our place. I balance the bushy tail end of the broomstick against the grass leaning my weight against it.
We'd been waiting for over 30 minutes and I resent the fact that I could have slept in longer.
From a distance I make out a woman strutting toward us. Her black robes hypnotically gallop in the wind behind her. She's wearing a velvety scarlet dress underneath that ties around her neck. A large pair of matching sunglasses neatly tuck the auburn hair behind her ears.
My brain finally registers what my eyeballs were consuming before me. It was the mystery redhead from the party; the one who fancied teasing me from afar at Main Hall meetings.
Her persona is entirely different with a hardened facade and intense expression.
"Oi, you lot!" she shouts demanding the crowd. "I'm Ginny; Gryffindor team captain. I will be taking place for Marcus, Slytherin's team captain, who's fallen terribly ill." With a quick flash of a smirk she adds, "How unfortunate.."
My jaw hits the floor.
The Gryffindor quidditch team captain?!
I have to lodge my fist beneath my chin against the broom to prevent my mouth from involuntarily opening again.
"Congratulations on making it to the second phase. Today I'll be judging you, along with the rest of the Slytherin team, on a very strict set of qualifications."
Naturally, everyone in Slytherin universally bitches and moans. Knowing that their fate rested in the hands of a Gryffindor didn't settle well.
The mystery redhead - I mean Ginny - puts her arms behind her head tying her hair into a ponytail. She pauses for a moment visually sizing up the group before her. Her eyes jump from each row of applicants. From the keepers, to the beaters, to..
The visible inspection delays on my row of chaser candidates. I'm approximately the 8th person back yet her eyes choose me.
"You." She effortlessly points a nail polish chipped finger at me. "Come here."
My head rotates between the hopeful men and women on either side of me before making my way to the front.
With an impassive expression, she looks me up and down. "Your name?"
"Harry.. Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter," she repeats matter-of-factly with pursed lips. I struggle swallowing as all of the saliva from my mouth had conveniently depleted. "Stand over there," she commands directing another pointed finger toward a barren location on the field.
I compliantly nod my head and confidently stride to the instructed destination. I'm like a giddy school boy who had just been chosen first by the prettiest girl in school to join their kickball team.
The Slytherin quidditch team, minus the captain, appears on the field beside her and disperse to their corresponding row of applicants.
One player in particular singles himself out and stands on the side from the group. He is the only one on the team who's fully dressed in gear. He holds an enticing, sleek jet-black broom. I glance to my raggedy training broom while tossing it back and forth between my hands.
If I make the team, the first thing I'm doing is buying myself one of those wicked devices.
I'm too far out of earshot to hear what Ginny instructs the rest of the crowd, but I watch on as the three groups distribute well across the field from me.
Once they're situated she makes her way toward me.
I straighten my posture and smooth my hair in place. Cupping a hand in front of my mouth, I check my breath.
"Potter, huh?" Ginny's arms are crossed and the expression of fierce skepticism remains.
"Yeah."
"You've passed the second phase," she states dryly with a straight face. "Congratulations."
"Passed the second phase? But this must be some sort of mistake." I fidget with my fingers as my eyes dart from side to side. "How will I be able to make the team if I haven't learned how to fly yet?!"
"Not with that attitude."
I gulp shaking my head. The beautiful bombshell was downright crazy. Sure, my father may be legendary, but who's to say that had any effect on my ability to fly?
"The first-year initiation celebration; that was an impressive catch saving your girlfriend from the Spiffle ball."
"You noticed?" I question with a dumb smile. "I wasn't sure if you saw."
Ginny perches her hip to the side, smacking her lips together. "What, were you watching me at the party or something?"
"Erm, not really," I lie while shaking my head. "But apparently you were."
An amused smirk crosses her lips. Apparently our feisty dispositions were at par. "And Hermione's not my girlfriend," I add.
"I'm only joking, of course." She giggles as her eyebrows lower. "Don't think my little brother would take very kind to that, now would he?"
"Your.. brother?" My voice fades as two and two slowly comes together. Even though he hadn't admitted it, I could tell that Ron fancied Hermione.
"Let's get on with it then." She ignores my comment while swishing her hair to one side of her shoulders. "We won't be able to test your ability as the new seeker on the ground."
"The new seeker?!" I accidentally shout. "Bloody hell."
My eyes widen as she calls over the lone Slytherin team member in full gear.
"This is Terrence." The massive athlete shakes my hand with an agitated look on his face. "Whoever catches the snitch will either take or keep the coveted position."
I continue to panic burying my face in my hands. My heart is in my throat beating a million miles a minute.
Ginny forcefully exhales before pulling me to the side. "Tell ya what." She tilts her head to the side removing her sunglasses. Her newly revealed chocolate colored eyes demand mine.
"You catch the snitch, and get this wanker off the Slytherin team. Then you and my brother can celebrate."
"Your brother?" I repeat once more. "You're Ron's sister? And Fred, and-"
"George, yes," she cuts me off with raised eyebrows.
I roll my eyes at myself. Why hadn't I seen it before? She has the same infamous 'Weasley toned' red hair for fucks sake.
We're interrupted by Terrence clearing his throat from behind her. He mounts his broom immediately launching from the ground, reaching several feet above us in seconds.
"Can we get on with it, then?!" he hollers while effortlessly circling above us. "The kids a rookie. It'll take me 30 seconds to beat him, coach."
Ginny arches a brow lowering her sunglasses. "30 seconds faster than in bed, Terrence.. impressive."
I wince at the savage comment placing both hands on my broom. Who knew what comments or threats the assertive redhead would throw my way if I didn't get out of her face and up in the air STAT.
I don't waste another moment. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before kicking off from the ground.
