Chapter 7: The Tryouts



The week seemed to pass quickly, except for the Defense Against the Dark Arts. Every day they sat it the same desks, taking note after note, memorizing spell after spell. Hermoine was glad, however, that Coeur had only given them one assignment over the weekend. It was relatively simple. They had to find one common spell that had been cast on all of them.

Hermoine was bent over her books, doing Potions work, when Ron came up behind her.

"Hermoine, will you come and watch the tryouts today?" he asked. Hermoine looked up, surprised.

"Sure," she replied reluctantly. "Why?" Ron flushed.

"I'd like someone to cheer me on," he admitted. Hermoine smiled.

"No problem, Ron." Ron brightened, and returned to his normal colour.

"Thanks, Hermoine," he whispered. He took off toward his dorm. "We'd better get going!"

Hermoine dropped her books on her bed.

"Patrice?" she called. There was no answer. Shrugging, Hermoine headed back down. Ron was waiting for her. His grin ran from ear to ear now.

"Come on!" he said impatiently. Hermoine shook her head, and hurried after him.

The Quiddich field was filled with potential Keepers. Hermoine saw Dean and Seamus with their brooms. Neville watched some of the older students practicing, but he shook with fear when someone offered him a broom. Ron ran to Dean. Hermoine followed.

"Come on, Neville," she said gently. "Let's get a seat in the stands. Then no one will think you're here to try out." Neville nodded thankfully.

Alicia called out drills, while the other two Chasers sent the Quaffle flying at the individual who was trying to be Keeper. Most of them possessed a little skill, but as the ball came at them harder they were unable to make the saves. Hermoine was impressed with Ron's playing. He was doing extraordinarily well. He made the first set of cuts. So did two girls and another three boys.

One of the three girls looked extraordinarily familiar. She looked like Patrice. Hermoine couldn't be sure, but Patrice had the same long blond hair. Ron was staring at her too. Maybe it was Patrice. . . .

The second round of drills was much more difficult, more like a real game. The Beaters were sending Bludgers at the Keeper-wanna-be's, so that they had to dodge and goal tend at the same time. Two of the boys fell, along with the brunette girl. Alicia sent them up into the stands. Hermoine cheered loudly.

"GO RON!"

The kids in the stands were roaring now, cheering on the three finalists. Alicia brought out a second Quaffle. She pointed her own wand at her throat.

"The object now is to stop both Quaffles and dodge the Bludgers. The finalist who stays the longest without falling or letting a Quaffle in is our new Keeper!" announced Alicia's modified voice. The students erupted into cheers. Alicia blew her whistle, and the biggest of the three finalist started.

Hermoine watched with interest while counting the seconds in her head. The biggest candidate had let in a Quaffle after three minutes of brutal work. He waited down below, watching expectantly. Ron was next.

"Go Ron!" shouted Hermoine. He dodged and saved as well as the other boy. Hermoine held her breath as the three minutes ticked by. Then four minutes, then five. Ron was doing wonderfully! He made it for six minutes, before a Bludger knocked him down. Hermoine screamed excitedly, until she lost her voice.

At last the girl went. At first, she seemed to be nothing spectacular. Then, as the time went on, she picked up her pace. She caught a Quaffle, and threw it at the Bludger that was heading straight for her. The Bludger was deflected. The crowd let out a collective gasp. The girl was hit by the second Bludger from behind. She toppled over, hanging to her broom with one hand. A Quaffle went into the goal. Hermoine looked up at the magical clock. It read 6 minutes and 3 seconds. Ron's read 6 minutes and 2 seconds.

Hermoine grimaced. Ron was so close. He had come in second. That surely meant that he was out. . . .

"Congratulations," Alicia's voice said. "Since our competitors were so very close, it is our decision that they both practice with us up until our first game. Then the new Keeper will be announced. Well done, Ron, Patrice. Welcome to the team!" Hermoine screamed excitedly, calling out Ron's name. Ron looked pleased with his own efforts. He, Patrice and the other finalist headed back through to the school.

Hermoine found Harry with Ron and Patrice. All three fifth years looked extraordinary pleased with themselves.

"Ron," said Patrice, "if you win, I want you to use my broom." She held it up. The name was covered by masking tape. Patrice peeled it away.

"No way," whispered Ron, his eyes going wide. Hermoine peered around him. The broomstick was a Firebolt. Hermoine looked up at Patrice in surprise.

"Way," replied Patrice with a smile. "I couldn't stand to see those Slytherinth jerks walk off with the Quiddich Cup. Especially since Malfoy's their Seeker. If I'm not on the team, then I want to say I helped to make our victory possible."

"It will make my brothers so jealous!" whispered Ron in a tight voice. Patrice grinned.

Hermoine suddenly felt the rock of worry come back to her stomach. She was giving Ron a Firebolt? Patrice gave her a smile. Hermoine returned a smile, but her insides had gone cold. Was Patrice crazy, generous, or something more?