"So Buffy, did you guys do any holiday planning yet?"
"Nah. With mom gone, it's kind of different. Probably just dinner and a few presents with Dawn and Xander. What about you? Are you home-bound?"
"I thought I'd stay here with Grey, neither of us being big on the whole Christmas thing."
"That's right! He's Jewish. Should make your parents happy."
"If I ever tell them. Also, it could be canceled out by the whole Jedi-evil fighter-wizard parents-thing."
"Oh, yeah. I guess it kind of would. That's a little different than being in a band. So you guys are staying there. What about Giles and Tara?"
"Well," Willow said, pausing to let the suspense build. She had called specifically for the purpose of dropping this on Buffy out of the blue. "We were kind of thinking along the lines of you three coming to visit all of us here. How 'bout it?"
Buffy squealed with delight at the idea, then explained to a bewildered Dawn, who began squealing as well. A minute later they gathered themselves.
"Do we have to do that fireplace thingy that Harry and Grey did?"
"Unless you want to spend mucho dinero for a plane ticket."
"Nope. Fireplace it is. What is that, three weeks from now?"
"About that. At least you're automatically out of work for vacation. How's the counseling gig going?"
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Hermione still harbored concerns about Ron's shoulder, despite his protestations that it was fine.
"Bloody hell, 'Mione, yes, it's fine!" His yelling drove her back a step involuntarily. He softened his tone, embarrassed. "Sorry, hon, it's jus' that I'm sure it's healed, an' I'll never get a better chance than this, even if I hadn't been on a broom in months before last week." Hermione nodded, hugged him, and went to sit with the others.
The second Quidditch match of the season had gone poorly, as Gryffindor's game of musical Keepers took a fearful shelling from Ravenclaw. Even Harry catching the Snitch had not been nearly enough; he had done it to end the humiliation. The match against Slytherin, which would conclude the initial round of games, was scheduled for after Christmas. After a team discussion, Gryffindor decided to hold Keeper tryouts five weeks in advance. Then the selectee would have five full weeks of training prior to the match, no matter how bad they might be.
Fred, George and Harry had all leaned on Ron to try, despite his injury. George once again had lent him a broom, and then the four of them had drilled for three days. Grey had even helped, teaching Ron several hand-eye coordination drills that he had learned for fighting. Ron felt confident, but he had no idea what the competition would be like. He also had no idea where he would get a decent broom if he was selected. Harry had given him the Firebolt for the tryout.
The Saturday of the tryouts dawned cool and crisp. Fortunately, despite the imminent onset of December, snow had yet to fall. Except for Spike, the entire gang had turned out to watch Ron, establishing a camp on the nearby hilltop. Wrapped in a blanket, Willow reclined in Grey's arms. Tara, Giles, Neville, Ginny and Harry surrounded them, eating lunch from a picnic basket provided by Winky and her fellow house-elves. Hermione walked up and took a seat on Harry's left, shaking her head at the picnic basket's origin. With delight, Willow noticed that Ginny was less than subtly leaning against Harry's right arm. The boy seemed not to notice Ginny's advances, but Willow could tell the girl had subtly begun to worm her way into his life. As Ginny shifted her weight, Harry unconsciously draped his arm around her. Willow nudged Grey, who saw the two of them and nodded. He pulled her closer, warming her outside and in.
"So what exactly will Ron have to do?" Giles barely understood the rules of Quidditch.
"Simple," Harry responded. "Our Chasers will scrimmage our Beaters, who will let them take shots on each Keeper candidate. Then, all of them will work together to try and score, as they would in a normal game. The only difference is there's no distance limit for Fred and George to harass the Keeper with Bludgers. McGonagall and Oliver Wood, who used to be the captain, are watching from the announcer's booth. He came in especially for this. McGonagall and the seventh-years will choose, but Wood's recommendation is what really matters. He was a great Keeper, the best in a long while." Giles clearly understood no better, but he let the matter drop.
"Where are the o-other candidates?" Tara could see only Ron near the field.
"Over there." Harry pointed to four boys and two girls sitting in the stands. All six of them seemed nervous, swaying from side to side or jabbering to each other. "Ron's last."
McGonagall blew her whistle, signaling the commencement of the program. Each of the first six went in turn; all of them had, at one time or another, been part of the Keeper rotation. One young man, a third-year named Michael Silver, stopped all but three of the shots and stayed on the broom the entire time. All of his misses, though, came in game situations. The Gryffindor players, and Wood in particular, knew he would be weak in a real contest.
The others were less impressive; none of them managed to balance the art of dodging the Bludgers and handling the Quaffle with any skill. Fred and George Weasley consistently used the Bludgers to keep the candidates from settling into a rhythm, as they often did to opposing Keepers. Each of the recruits grew increasingly nervous and frustrated, often leading to a painful impact courtesy of the twins.
As the sixth candidate left the field, Harry silently mourned the loss of the Quidditch Cup. He could see his teammates looking equally dispirited, and wondered if they would even bother to put Ron through his paces.
Ron's turn finally arrived. Watching the other obviously weak candidates made his stomach churn and now, when he had to fly, his legs felt like oatmeal. Above him, Fred and George traded a look. They had argued repeatedly over whether to go easier or harder on their brother. He knew their tricks from years of fooling around; Wood and McGonagall knew it, and so would be looking extra closely at Ron. Fred nodded, and George returned it. Harder. They had a few new tactics worked out, and now seemed a good time to use them. Neither had any doubt whether Ron could handle them, and the judges had to see his skill rather than his familiarity.
Ron flew up to guard the goal. As the whistle blew, his mind went blank. The Chasers came on, harried weakly by Fred and George. The Quaffle seemed huge as Katie Bell tossed it towards Ron. He spun the broom hard, accelerating quickly and snatching the Quaffle from the air with his left hand. It had been an easy opening shot, but he suddenly knew he could do this. With enthusiasm, he tossed the Quaffle back and readied himself for the rest.
They repeated the exercise six times; the passing became more intricate and the shots harder to stop, but Ron got them all. The next ten came even faster and harder, with his brothers now aiding the opposition. Ron missed two, but made up for it on the last one.
Fred and George came at him first. They batted the Bludger back and forth, almost as if passing the Quaffle. Once Ron finally caught their rhythm, George slammed it straight for him, forcing him to move sharply left. Ron lost track of the Quaffle while dodging the Bludger, but picked it up again as Bell, hiding in the left corner, whistled it past his spot in front of the goal. He thought it had been a poor shot, but spied Melissa Norton, a fourth-year, waiting for the crossing pass on his far side. Skidding the broom sideways, he reversed field and forced a speed burst. He barely tapped her shot away, the Quaffle catching on the fingers of his fully outstretched right hand. The spectacular deflection made the scar tissue on his back howl, but he ignored it as the crowd went wild below him. The Gryffindors cheered, Fred and George the loudest of all. Then he heard McGonagall's whistle.
"I think we've seen enough," she said gleefully over the P.A. system. "Welcome to the team, Mr. Weasley."