****Author's Note: Here it is, the long awaited Quidditch Trials! Whoo hoo! This chapter marks our entry into what I would call "Act 2" of the fic… I suppose it's a book now… Anyway, Act 2 promises answers to current mysteries, and much more action.
Enjoy,
Neoepiphany****
Chapter Thirteen
Gryffindor Quidditch
Harry awoke the next morning to find the empty basket that had housed Mira's fudge bars propped up on his nightstand, beside his glasses. Despite his worries, no one had had any ill effects from the treats, and Harry felt both stupid and cheated out of some Mira's gooey junk food.
They had an uneventful week, the most exciting event of which was the potions lesson in which they finally tried the Polyjuice potion. It made a lot of people unusually giggly to see themselves looking like their partners. Malfoy looked like Pansy Parkinson, which Harry would have found incredibly funny if he hadn't been wearing Hermione's face at the time. Still, nobody looked more sullen than Ron and Parvati Patil, who were both staring at the other, horrified. Thankfully, the effects wore off of most people by the time Snape had finished marking the class, and only a few people had to go to their next class looking like their partners.
The second DA meeting of the semester went well, despite the fact that Harry's stomach was full of pre-quidditch jitters. He felt as excited as he did before a match, even though he knew he had much less to worry about than the people trying out. It was his first real test as captain, and he was anxious about everything coming off smoothly.
It was agony sitting through all their classes on Tuesday. Harry checked the time so often that he was sure his watch was broken. At last, classes ended, and Harry and Ron had time to make a few last-minute plans before dinner. They had decided to make a try-out form, like the one Ron described Angelina handing out last year, so they wrote out a handful of questions on a piece of parchment, and, when Hermione got back from class, she showed them a charm to make the paper duplicate itself. They quickly grabbed sandwiches and ran toward the quidditch pitch. They had planned to arrive almost a full hour early so that the pitch would be empty while they made their preparations for the try outs. To their surprise, they weren't the only ones on the field. Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were sitting in the Gryffindor section, eating sandwiches of their own and chatting animatedly.
"Come to support Ginny?" Ron said, as they walked toward the group. He and Harry sat down in front of them to eat their own sandwiches.
"No," Seamus grinned. "Here to try out."
"What—all of you?" Ron sputtered.
"Absolutely, mate," Dean said, now grinning himself. "It's a beater's life for me."
"I am definitely not trying out," Neville interrupted. "I'm not too keen on flying, you see." He grinned sheepishly.
"That's okay," Seamus said. "When we're all on the team, you can be our official groupie." Neville grinned.
Ron, however, was giving Dean a calculating look. "I thought that you were a muggle football supporter," he said accusingly.
"Still am," Dean said, swallowing his last bite of sandwich. "But—well, I saw our beaters last season, and I thought I could do better than that. Anyway, I've always been a quidditch supporter too."
"Well, good luck," Harry said, cutting Ron off before he opened his mouth again. "Of course—you know, we can't put you on the team unless you're the best for the position. I don't want to hurt anyone's—"
"Leave it out, Harry," Dean said.
"Yeah, we don't expect you to pick us just because we're your friends," Ginny added. "We want to win, not just be on the team."
"Then just good luck," Harry said grinning. He stood up, and nodded toward Ron, who was looking a bit glum. "We have to go set things up. See you in a bit."
"Yeah, bye," Ginny said. She looked flushed with excitement.
Harry and Ron went down to the dressing room where they had stored the targets and things they had spent the weekend enchanting.
"I can't believe that Dean and Seamus are trying out, too," Ron said.
"Yeah, I know. Isn't it great? I hope they're good. Seamus is always on about what a great flyer he is," Harry said.
Ron glared at Harry, and Harry realized he was supposed to react differently. He cleared his throat. "Well, of course it is a surprise—" he began, but sighed. "Listen, Ron. You really need to get over this thing with Ginny."
"What thing with Ginny?" Ron snapped.
"The thing where you hate—oh, never mind. But since when do you have a problem with Dean? He's a nice guy, and you liked him perfectly well until Ginny told you she was—"
"That's not true," Ron said fiercely. "I always had my doubts."
Harry thought it would be best to just drop the subject.
They got to work, hauling things out onto the field and arranging them. Once it was all set up, they went back downstairs and sorted out the papers that Hermione had helped them copy. They changed into their full quidditch gear, just like they were preparing for a game.
At five minutes to six, Harry grabbed his Firebolt, Ron took his Cleansweep, and they headed out. The clouds had broken, and the sun was just shining through, giving everything a beautiful, golden hue. There were around twenty people sitting near Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and Neville, most of them looking a bit anxious and clutching their brooms.
"All of you are trying out?" Ron said, raising his eyebrows. There was a mixture of nodding and headshaking in the little crowd, and Harry frowned.
"Let's try it this way," he said. "If you're trying out for chaser, come sit on my left. If you're trying out for beater, sit on the right. And if you're just watching, stay where you are."
There was a lot of movement as people shuffled to the locations Harry had pointed out. Six or Seven people hung around in the stands, moving toward Neville. A few gave their more apprehensive-looking friends a supportive thumbs-up.
Once the group had divided, a small second-year boy was left standing in the middle. He just stared up at Harry with an expression of mixed awe and fear.
"Well? Which is it?" Ron asked in an exasperated tone. "Beater or chaser?"
"Er," the boy said, licking his lips. He smiled in what he clearly thought was a charming way. "Either?" he said tentatively.
Ron let out a snort of annoyance. "Just sit with the chasers now," Harry said. "They'll be going first."
Harry handed out the questionairres, and Ron proudly conjured some pencils. "These are just so that we have the name and information on everyone who tries out," Harry explained. "That way it's nice and fair." Everyone began hastily writing, bearing down on their knees or on the seats behind them.
"Quickly now," Ron said. "We don't have all day." Ginny shot her brother a deeply annoyed look as she filled out the form. A few of Ron's pencils crumbled when they touched the paper, which made Ron's ears flush red, but he and Harry manged to conjure up replacement.
When they had finished, and Ron had collected the forms, Harry addressed the chasers. "Right. Now, the first thing we'll be doing is running a few drills. I want you to get in formation, and we'll pass the ball back and forth. Go as fast as you can." He split the hopefuls into two groups, one of four, and the other of three. Then, as they began the passing drill, he and Ron mounted their brooms, and zipped along behind, making notes about who was good, and who was bad. The second-year boy, who was called Rupert Garlick, dropped the ball every time it was thrown in his direction.
After a moment, Harry had them change to a speed drill, flying back and forth across the pitch in pairs, passing a quaffle between them. Some of them zipped across the pitch, while others barely moved at a snail's pace. Then, he switched to a new drill, where each group tried to prevent the other from scoring. Harry kept note of the best fliers, blockers, and scorers. Last, they had to go one-on-one and try to get the quaffle past Ron, who, perhaps because he was feeling very confident after such a sad showing, was playing exceptionally well.
The beater trials they had borrowed from Angelina's plan the year before. First, the beaters had to hit a series of targets with the same zipping bludger, and Harry took notes about their aim and speed. Then, they moved on to the really difficult drill The beaters were paired off, and the aim was for them to protect their own partner, and hit the other teams. With all the people trying desperately to hit one another with the bludgers, however, this was easier said than done; more than one person had a bloody nose before the end. This went on for a long while as Harry and Ron flew around the edge, watching and taking notes. Finally, Harry called an end to the exercise.
"Right!" he called. "That was very good. Now, let's just run one quick speed drill, and then we'll call it a night." He summoned all of the hopefuls out onto the field, and had them race, relay style, back and forth across the pitch. Rupert ruined the odds for his team when he dropped the quaffle again, putting them well behind the other teams.
When it was over, Harry sent everyone away. "Ron and I need to talk before we can announce anything," he said. "But you all did really well. Don't worry. We'll post the results on the notice board by nine-o-clock."
Smiling, and just as jittery as before, the group dissipated, heading back for the castle. Ron and Harry settled themselves in the Gryffindor section of the stands and began to compare notes. "Chasers first?" Harry suggested.
Ron nodding, flipping through the information sheets. "Who'd you like?" he asked.
"Well, Ginny's in, obviously," Harry said. "She was terrific. Did you see her catch that ball when Rupert dropped it and still score with it? That was brilliant."
"Yeah, she's not bad," Ron said, with a touch of pride. "She got three quaffles past me, and I wasn't going easy on her or anything."
"I know you weren't," Harry grinned. "So who's next?"
"Much as I hate to say it," Ron grimaced, "how about Kirke? He really wasn't half bad."
"Chaser and beater are very different positions," Harry agreed. "And he was pretty good. How many times did he score?"
"Twice against me, and four times in the skirmish," Ron said. "Not bad at all."
"So he's in. Who else?"
Ron tapped his quill against his teeth. "What about that third year girl? The skinny little one with the black hair. What was her name?"
"Er," Harry said, sifting through the papers. "Eva Gregory. But you blocked almost all her shots."
"Not easily," Ron said. "And she was a terrific flyer. Did you see her in the skirmish? She completely outpaced everyone else. We could use her just to pass the quaffle if nothing else."
"Fair enough," Harry said. He hadn't been particularly impressed by any of the others. "She was your favorite?"
"Yeah."
"Then she's in," Harry said, jotting down the names. "Well, that was easy. How about the beaters?"
Ron groaned. "What a showing! Did you see that second year boy? Rupert? I think he clobbered himself in the head one time too many."
"You'd think that anyone trying out for two different positions would at least be good at one of them," Harry agreed.
"Seamus wasn't bad," Ron said.
"He was no Weasley," Harry frowned, scanning his notes again. "But you're right, he was the best that showed up."
"He'll be happy," Ron grinned. "He always was a quidditch nut."
"One down, one to go. How about—"
"What about that fourh year girl? Mina Van der Felt? She was decent."
"Yeah, but look at her sheet," Harry said, passing it over. "She rates schoolwork as more important than quidditch. We can't have someone who would skive off practice just because she's behind on her charms homework."
"Oh, right," Ron said. "Er, how about Evan Roter? He wasn't too bad."
"Are you crazy?" Harry said. "He didn't get the bludger within five feet of the target! And, during the drill, he hit his own partner in the head twice."
"But there's really nobody else—"
"Ron," Harry groaned. "Face it. He was the best out there, after Seamus."
"But we can't have him. What if he and Ginny break up?" Ron protested weakly. "The resulting friction in the team could make us lose a critical match."
"Then we'll just have to do our best to keep the two of them together."
Ron scowled and sunk down low on his seat. "Then I guess Dean is in," he muttered.
"Sorry," Harry said, smiling a little. "We'll put the a few people on reserve, too."
He pulled out a big sheet of parchment, and wrote,
"QUIDDITCH TEAM POSITIONS:
Chasers:
Gregory, Eva
Kirke, Andrew
Weasley, Ginny
Beaters:
Finnigan, Seamus
Thomas, Dean.
Reserve:
Van der Felt, Mina
Roter, Evan."
"That ought to do it," Harry said. He and Ron changed back into their regular robes, dropped off their brooms, and headed back to the castle. They slipped through the portrait hole at around eight.
The Gryffindor common room was completely full of people. Most were laughing and talking. It looked like most people had given up any attempt at doing homework amid the din and excitement of the biggest bunch of tryouts for the quidditch team in recet memory. Harry stepped through the portrait hole just before Ron, and immediately, every face turned toward him, a sudden silence falling on the room. Ron entered, bearing the parchment, and everyone watched while he posted it on the board. Everyone remained still just long enough for Harry and Ron to walk away from the notice board. Then, as though they had been jerked toward it by invisible strings, fifteen or so people hurried toward the notice.
"Yes!" shouted Dean, pumping his fist up and down in victory. "We did it! We're in!" he shouted to Seamus, who was at the back of the crowd. Ginny, her face pink with excitement, gave Dean a hug, which made Ron throw her a murderous look.
"Eva! Eva—you did it! You're on the team!" shouted a curly-haired third year boy. Eva, Harry realized, was sitting in a squashy armchair, chatting liesurely with a friend. She barely looked up when her friend shouted.
"Did I?" she said in a smooth voice, a small, satisfied smile breaking her face, and her cheeks pinking. "Well. I knew I could do it."
"Oooh," said her friend in a teasing tone, "our little Evadne, on the quidditch team!"
"Eurgh. Call me that again," Eva said, grimacing, "and I will learn new curses just to try them on you."
Her friend laughed and aimed a throw pillow at Eva, who giggled as she ducked it.
"Yes!" said Andrew Kirke, who was standing near the notice board. "I'm back on!"
"Congratulations," Harry said, smiling. He shouted over the noise of the room. "First practice is Saturday morning! Our match against Slytherin is coming up in a little over a month, and we want to win! Good luck, everybody."
A cheer rose up among the Gryffindors, and a few people began to sing "Weasley is Our King," which made Ron's ears turn red, but his smile only widened.
The celebrating in the common room went on for quite a while, with many people congratulating each other with butterbeer toasts and snacks nicked from the kitchens. The Weasley twins' absence was particularly noticeable since, despite the high spirits of the room, no one was spontaneously turning into canaries, or biting into other bizarre homemade trick sweets. Still, this meant that everyone was a little more lax about accepting food from others, a fact that Harry noted for future use. He still had the sack of trick sweets that the twins had given him for his birthday.
After the dozenth time that someone cheered and told Harry that Gryffindor had better win, Harry looked around the room for Hermione, who he hadn't seen since before dinner. He finally spotted her, half hidden in an oversized armchair behind Eva Gregory's friends. She was reading the spellbook that McGonagall had given to Harry.
"Wow," Harry said, looking down at it. "You've really gotten through that." Hermione was already a quarter of the way through the book, reading a page half-filled by a rather gory depiction of a wizard turning into an octopus.
"I can't put it down," Hermione said. "I picked it up just after you two left, and I haven't stopped reading it. There's some really great stuff in Chapter Eight, Harry—all about magic's influence over the mind. It tells you how to modify memories, and how to alter perception!"
"Cool," Harry said, trying to sound enthusiastic. He didn't want to think about the book yet, and, anyway, he had an entire month to learn it.
Ron made a noise of disgust behind him. "Hermione—with all this celebrating going on, how can you possibly sit there reading that?"
"I happen to find it interesting," Hermione said, turning a page. "I could try this one out on you, Ron. The Nemesis Charm—makes an object aggressive toward a target." She smiled at Ron, who scowled at her, and returned to the party. Harry laughed, and walked back over to where Ginny, Dean, and Seamus were toasting one another loudly with butterbeer.
The celebrating lasted until late in the night, when Hermione, after the third complaint from fifth-years who had early study sessions, stood up and ordered everyone to bed. Harry lay in bed, happier than he had been in ages, wishing there were someone he could share his excitement with. As soon as he realized this, though, a pang of sadness welled over him; he wished he could tell Sirius about the tryouts… He would have appreciated Harry's blow-by-blow account of the tryouts. He rolled over, and tried hard to think about something else. He began to plan their practice on Saturday; that occupied his mind until at last, he drifted off to sleep.
**************
Reviewer Responses
To Everybody (from Neo) Ahhhh! The chocolate wasn't evil after all! It was just… chocolate. ;)
Wind Whisperer: Thanks bunches. I love cliff hangers… They ensure you'll come back.
jbfritz: Here you go, more posted as soon as I could manage. I love evil cliffies—they indulge my minorly evil nature. Hope you enjoy!
EriEka127: Thanks. It's good to be loved by an HP-obsessed Slytherin Werewolf. How many people can say that, really?
Drajjen: Thanks so much! I work very hard to follow cannon, to the point that I double-check absolutely everything in the books, or (when I'm at work) the HP Lexicon (fanfic writer's best-friend). Good catch about the Death Eaters! You're right—Hermione, Harry, and all have forgotten. But I haven't. ;) They will be reminded in the next chapter or so, and the solution to that mystery shall rear its ugly head.
Tike: I take umbrage at that remark, buddy! For this to be "the worst fanfic ever" it would require all of the following…
--repeeted and obnokshus spelling misstakes
--ALL CAPS EVERYWHERE ALSO NO PUNCTUATION
--A pregnancy involving Hermione, Ginny, McGonagoll, Winky, etc. etc.
--A slash relationship involving Harry, Draco, Neville, Ron, Snape, Lupin, Sirius, Dumbledore, MadEye Moody, etc. in some very unlikely pairing. (Draco and Moody, for example. Or Filch and Neville. Take your pick.)
--Any relationship between people of different generations (a personal pet-peeve) or really incompatible people (Ron and draco? Bellatrix and Harry? Might as well be Aberforth and the Goat.)
--More sex than a University of Florida Dorm building sees in a year.
--Lots of bizarre things happening and no attempt to explain them (I will explain them, we just haven't gotten there yet! It's very soon now.)
--A Mary Sue character
--Really, really bad dialogue ("Wow Harry look its Voldemort" "Wow Ron I see him" "Wow Harry" "Dam it!" "what" "Hermiones snogging draco again")
And while I'm far from perfect, I'm nowhere near topping off the whole list. I mean, even the worst fanfic I've ever read only had 7 out of 9, and I'm sure there are worse ones than that out there.
(Please bear in mind that I'm not knocking all these things—some of the best fanfics I've ever read involved pregnancies, relationships (both slash and otherwise), and so on. But you can't put all of them together—although I'm sure someone will try.)
So, you see, Tike, that is why this could not possibly be the worst fanfic ever.
Of course, since you added this story to your "favorite stories" list, your remark could be intended as ironic. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.
Fubbubbubba to you too.
Scorpion Lord: You're dying for answers? Well, we can't have anyone dying on my account. Very well. ANSWERS!
The chocolate wasn't evil. It was a red herring (or just me having a good tease). Which is good, really, because poisoned candies are so cliched. If Mira is evil, one would hope she'd be more creative. (Ditto for Voldie's other followers.)
When is Peter Pettigrew coming back? We'll see him again in January (Harry's time) although he will play a part in events around the Christmas Holidays, too.
Does it have to be either Pure or Evil? Couldn't it be… Mostly-pure-but-a- little-cranky-on-Tuesdays? Or Evil-with-pure-tendencies? And we can't overlook the possibilities that it's just a ring. Or just a ring with a spell on it. Or just a ring with some kind of power that will manifest itself at a critical moment. Or a cunning link to Sirius beyond the veil which will resurrect him when Harry kills Bellatrix at the end of the fic—although I wouldn't count on that one.
Wynjara: Snape is being a pain, isn't he? Almost like he's.. angry about something…
Wiccan PussyKat: The Chocolate is.... not evil after all. Oh well. Although I promise I didn't do it just to make you look like an idiot. :)
As much as I want you to read my story, don't read it in class!! I'd hate to be getting angry emails from your teachers... Especially being a teacher myself, and all. ;)
Yep, this was the longest. There's an even longer chapter coming up, too.
Thanks for thinking of me, I'm all better now!!
Enjoy the quidditch tryouts? ;)
Enjoy,
Neoepiphany****
Chapter Thirteen
Gryffindor Quidditch
Harry awoke the next morning to find the empty basket that had housed Mira's fudge bars propped up on his nightstand, beside his glasses. Despite his worries, no one had had any ill effects from the treats, and Harry felt both stupid and cheated out of some Mira's gooey junk food.
They had an uneventful week, the most exciting event of which was the potions lesson in which they finally tried the Polyjuice potion. It made a lot of people unusually giggly to see themselves looking like their partners. Malfoy looked like Pansy Parkinson, which Harry would have found incredibly funny if he hadn't been wearing Hermione's face at the time. Still, nobody looked more sullen than Ron and Parvati Patil, who were both staring at the other, horrified. Thankfully, the effects wore off of most people by the time Snape had finished marking the class, and only a few people had to go to their next class looking like their partners.
The second DA meeting of the semester went well, despite the fact that Harry's stomach was full of pre-quidditch jitters. He felt as excited as he did before a match, even though he knew he had much less to worry about than the people trying out. It was his first real test as captain, and he was anxious about everything coming off smoothly.
It was agony sitting through all their classes on Tuesday. Harry checked the time so often that he was sure his watch was broken. At last, classes ended, and Harry and Ron had time to make a few last-minute plans before dinner. They had decided to make a try-out form, like the one Ron described Angelina handing out last year, so they wrote out a handful of questions on a piece of parchment, and, when Hermione got back from class, she showed them a charm to make the paper duplicate itself. They quickly grabbed sandwiches and ran toward the quidditch pitch. They had planned to arrive almost a full hour early so that the pitch would be empty while they made their preparations for the try outs. To their surprise, they weren't the only ones on the field. Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were sitting in the Gryffindor section, eating sandwiches of their own and chatting animatedly.
"Come to support Ginny?" Ron said, as they walked toward the group. He and Harry sat down in front of them to eat their own sandwiches.
"No," Seamus grinned. "Here to try out."
"What—all of you?" Ron sputtered.
"Absolutely, mate," Dean said, now grinning himself. "It's a beater's life for me."
"I am definitely not trying out," Neville interrupted. "I'm not too keen on flying, you see." He grinned sheepishly.
"That's okay," Seamus said. "When we're all on the team, you can be our official groupie." Neville grinned.
Ron, however, was giving Dean a calculating look. "I thought that you were a muggle football supporter," he said accusingly.
"Still am," Dean said, swallowing his last bite of sandwich. "But—well, I saw our beaters last season, and I thought I could do better than that. Anyway, I've always been a quidditch supporter too."
"Well, good luck," Harry said, cutting Ron off before he opened his mouth again. "Of course—you know, we can't put you on the team unless you're the best for the position. I don't want to hurt anyone's—"
"Leave it out, Harry," Dean said.
"Yeah, we don't expect you to pick us just because we're your friends," Ginny added. "We want to win, not just be on the team."
"Then just good luck," Harry said grinning. He stood up, and nodded toward Ron, who was looking a bit glum. "We have to go set things up. See you in a bit."
"Yeah, bye," Ginny said. She looked flushed with excitement.
Harry and Ron went down to the dressing room where they had stored the targets and things they had spent the weekend enchanting.
"I can't believe that Dean and Seamus are trying out, too," Ron said.
"Yeah, I know. Isn't it great? I hope they're good. Seamus is always on about what a great flyer he is," Harry said.
Ron glared at Harry, and Harry realized he was supposed to react differently. He cleared his throat. "Well, of course it is a surprise—" he began, but sighed. "Listen, Ron. You really need to get over this thing with Ginny."
"What thing with Ginny?" Ron snapped.
"The thing where you hate—oh, never mind. But since when do you have a problem with Dean? He's a nice guy, and you liked him perfectly well until Ginny told you she was—"
"That's not true," Ron said fiercely. "I always had my doubts."
Harry thought it would be best to just drop the subject.
They got to work, hauling things out onto the field and arranging them. Once it was all set up, they went back downstairs and sorted out the papers that Hermione had helped them copy. They changed into their full quidditch gear, just like they were preparing for a game.
At five minutes to six, Harry grabbed his Firebolt, Ron took his Cleansweep, and they headed out. The clouds had broken, and the sun was just shining through, giving everything a beautiful, golden hue. There were around twenty people sitting near Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and Neville, most of them looking a bit anxious and clutching their brooms.
"All of you are trying out?" Ron said, raising his eyebrows. There was a mixture of nodding and headshaking in the little crowd, and Harry frowned.
"Let's try it this way," he said. "If you're trying out for chaser, come sit on my left. If you're trying out for beater, sit on the right. And if you're just watching, stay where you are."
There was a lot of movement as people shuffled to the locations Harry had pointed out. Six or Seven people hung around in the stands, moving toward Neville. A few gave their more apprehensive-looking friends a supportive thumbs-up.
Once the group had divided, a small second-year boy was left standing in the middle. He just stared up at Harry with an expression of mixed awe and fear.
"Well? Which is it?" Ron asked in an exasperated tone. "Beater or chaser?"
"Er," the boy said, licking his lips. He smiled in what he clearly thought was a charming way. "Either?" he said tentatively.
Ron let out a snort of annoyance. "Just sit with the chasers now," Harry said. "They'll be going first."
Harry handed out the questionairres, and Ron proudly conjured some pencils. "These are just so that we have the name and information on everyone who tries out," Harry explained. "That way it's nice and fair." Everyone began hastily writing, bearing down on their knees or on the seats behind them.
"Quickly now," Ron said. "We don't have all day." Ginny shot her brother a deeply annoyed look as she filled out the form. A few of Ron's pencils crumbled when they touched the paper, which made Ron's ears flush red, but he and Harry manged to conjure up replacement.
When they had finished, and Ron had collected the forms, Harry addressed the chasers. "Right. Now, the first thing we'll be doing is running a few drills. I want you to get in formation, and we'll pass the ball back and forth. Go as fast as you can." He split the hopefuls into two groups, one of four, and the other of three. Then, as they began the passing drill, he and Ron mounted their brooms, and zipped along behind, making notes about who was good, and who was bad. The second-year boy, who was called Rupert Garlick, dropped the ball every time it was thrown in his direction.
After a moment, Harry had them change to a speed drill, flying back and forth across the pitch in pairs, passing a quaffle between them. Some of them zipped across the pitch, while others barely moved at a snail's pace. Then, he switched to a new drill, where each group tried to prevent the other from scoring. Harry kept note of the best fliers, blockers, and scorers. Last, they had to go one-on-one and try to get the quaffle past Ron, who, perhaps because he was feeling very confident after such a sad showing, was playing exceptionally well.
The beater trials they had borrowed from Angelina's plan the year before. First, the beaters had to hit a series of targets with the same zipping bludger, and Harry took notes about their aim and speed. Then, they moved on to the really difficult drill The beaters were paired off, and the aim was for them to protect their own partner, and hit the other teams. With all the people trying desperately to hit one another with the bludgers, however, this was easier said than done; more than one person had a bloody nose before the end. This went on for a long while as Harry and Ron flew around the edge, watching and taking notes. Finally, Harry called an end to the exercise.
"Right!" he called. "That was very good. Now, let's just run one quick speed drill, and then we'll call it a night." He summoned all of the hopefuls out onto the field, and had them race, relay style, back and forth across the pitch. Rupert ruined the odds for his team when he dropped the quaffle again, putting them well behind the other teams.
When it was over, Harry sent everyone away. "Ron and I need to talk before we can announce anything," he said. "But you all did really well. Don't worry. We'll post the results on the notice board by nine-o-clock."
Smiling, and just as jittery as before, the group dissipated, heading back for the castle. Ron and Harry settled themselves in the Gryffindor section of the stands and began to compare notes. "Chasers first?" Harry suggested.
Ron nodding, flipping through the information sheets. "Who'd you like?" he asked.
"Well, Ginny's in, obviously," Harry said. "She was terrific. Did you see her catch that ball when Rupert dropped it and still score with it? That was brilliant."
"Yeah, she's not bad," Ron said, with a touch of pride. "She got three quaffles past me, and I wasn't going easy on her or anything."
"I know you weren't," Harry grinned. "So who's next?"
"Much as I hate to say it," Ron grimaced, "how about Kirke? He really wasn't half bad."
"Chaser and beater are very different positions," Harry agreed. "And he was pretty good. How many times did he score?"
"Twice against me, and four times in the skirmish," Ron said. "Not bad at all."
"So he's in. Who else?"
Ron tapped his quill against his teeth. "What about that third year girl? The skinny little one with the black hair. What was her name?"
"Er," Harry said, sifting through the papers. "Eva Gregory. But you blocked almost all her shots."
"Not easily," Ron said. "And she was a terrific flyer. Did you see her in the skirmish? She completely outpaced everyone else. We could use her just to pass the quaffle if nothing else."
"Fair enough," Harry said. He hadn't been particularly impressed by any of the others. "She was your favorite?"
"Yeah."
"Then she's in," Harry said, jotting down the names. "Well, that was easy. How about the beaters?"
Ron groaned. "What a showing! Did you see that second year boy? Rupert? I think he clobbered himself in the head one time too many."
"You'd think that anyone trying out for two different positions would at least be good at one of them," Harry agreed.
"Seamus wasn't bad," Ron said.
"He was no Weasley," Harry frowned, scanning his notes again. "But you're right, he was the best that showed up."
"He'll be happy," Ron grinned. "He always was a quidditch nut."
"One down, one to go. How about—"
"What about that fourh year girl? Mina Van der Felt? She was decent."
"Yeah, but look at her sheet," Harry said, passing it over. "She rates schoolwork as more important than quidditch. We can't have someone who would skive off practice just because she's behind on her charms homework."
"Oh, right," Ron said. "Er, how about Evan Roter? He wasn't too bad."
"Are you crazy?" Harry said. "He didn't get the bludger within five feet of the target! And, during the drill, he hit his own partner in the head twice."
"But there's really nobody else—"
"Ron," Harry groaned. "Face it. He was the best out there, after Seamus."
"But we can't have him. What if he and Ginny break up?" Ron protested weakly. "The resulting friction in the team could make us lose a critical match."
"Then we'll just have to do our best to keep the two of them together."
Ron scowled and sunk down low on his seat. "Then I guess Dean is in," he muttered.
"Sorry," Harry said, smiling a little. "We'll put the a few people on reserve, too."
He pulled out a big sheet of parchment, and wrote,
"QUIDDITCH TEAM POSITIONS:
Chasers:
Gregory, Eva
Kirke, Andrew
Weasley, Ginny
Beaters:
Finnigan, Seamus
Thomas, Dean.
Reserve:
Van der Felt, Mina
Roter, Evan."
"That ought to do it," Harry said. He and Ron changed back into their regular robes, dropped off their brooms, and headed back to the castle. They slipped through the portrait hole at around eight.
The Gryffindor common room was completely full of people. Most were laughing and talking. It looked like most people had given up any attempt at doing homework amid the din and excitement of the biggest bunch of tryouts for the quidditch team in recet memory. Harry stepped through the portrait hole just before Ron, and immediately, every face turned toward him, a sudden silence falling on the room. Ron entered, bearing the parchment, and everyone watched while he posted it on the board. Everyone remained still just long enough for Harry and Ron to walk away from the notice board. Then, as though they had been jerked toward it by invisible strings, fifteen or so people hurried toward the notice.
"Yes!" shouted Dean, pumping his fist up and down in victory. "We did it! We're in!" he shouted to Seamus, who was at the back of the crowd. Ginny, her face pink with excitement, gave Dean a hug, which made Ron throw her a murderous look.
"Eva! Eva—you did it! You're on the team!" shouted a curly-haired third year boy. Eva, Harry realized, was sitting in a squashy armchair, chatting liesurely with a friend. She barely looked up when her friend shouted.
"Did I?" she said in a smooth voice, a small, satisfied smile breaking her face, and her cheeks pinking. "Well. I knew I could do it."
"Oooh," said her friend in a teasing tone, "our little Evadne, on the quidditch team!"
"Eurgh. Call me that again," Eva said, grimacing, "and I will learn new curses just to try them on you."
Her friend laughed and aimed a throw pillow at Eva, who giggled as she ducked it.
"Yes!" said Andrew Kirke, who was standing near the notice board. "I'm back on!"
"Congratulations," Harry said, smiling. He shouted over the noise of the room. "First practice is Saturday morning! Our match against Slytherin is coming up in a little over a month, and we want to win! Good luck, everybody."
A cheer rose up among the Gryffindors, and a few people began to sing "Weasley is Our King," which made Ron's ears turn red, but his smile only widened.
The celebrating in the common room went on for quite a while, with many people congratulating each other with butterbeer toasts and snacks nicked from the kitchens. The Weasley twins' absence was particularly noticeable since, despite the high spirits of the room, no one was spontaneously turning into canaries, or biting into other bizarre homemade trick sweets. Still, this meant that everyone was a little more lax about accepting food from others, a fact that Harry noted for future use. He still had the sack of trick sweets that the twins had given him for his birthday.
After the dozenth time that someone cheered and told Harry that Gryffindor had better win, Harry looked around the room for Hermione, who he hadn't seen since before dinner. He finally spotted her, half hidden in an oversized armchair behind Eva Gregory's friends. She was reading the spellbook that McGonagall had given to Harry.
"Wow," Harry said, looking down at it. "You've really gotten through that." Hermione was already a quarter of the way through the book, reading a page half-filled by a rather gory depiction of a wizard turning into an octopus.
"I can't put it down," Hermione said. "I picked it up just after you two left, and I haven't stopped reading it. There's some really great stuff in Chapter Eight, Harry—all about magic's influence over the mind. It tells you how to modify memories, and how to alter perception!"
"Cool," Harry said, trying to sound enthusiastic. He didn't want to think about the book yet, and, anyway, he had an entire month to learn it.
Ron made a noise of disgust behind him. "Hermione—with all this celebrating going on, how can you possibly sit there reading that?"
"I happen to find it interesting," Hermione said, turning a page. "I could try this one out on you, Ron. The Nemesis Charm—makes an object aggressive toward a target." She smiled at Ron, who scowled at her, and returned to the party. Harry laughed, and walked back over to where Ginny, Dean, and Seamus were toasting one another loudly with butterbeer.
The celebrating lasted until late in the night, when Hermione, after the third complaint from fifth-years who had early study sessions, stood up and ordered everyone to bed. Harry lay in bed, happier than he had been in ages, wishing there were someone he could share his excitement with. As soon as he realized this, though, a pang of sadness welled over him; he wished he could tell Sirius about the tryouts… He would have appreciated Harry's blow-by-blow account of the tryouts. He rolled over, and tried hard to think about something else. He began to plan their practice on Saturday; that occupied his mind until at last, he drifted off to sleep.
**************
Reviewer Responses
To Everybody (from Neo) Ahhhh! The chocolate wasn't evil after all! It was just… chocolate. ;)
Wind Whisperer: Thanks bunches. I love cliff hangers… They ensure you'll come back.
jbfritz: Here you go, more posted as soon as I could manage. I love evil cliffies—they indulge my minorly evil nature. Hope you enjoy!
EriEka127: Thanks. It's good to be loved by an HP-obsessed Slytherin Werewolf. How many people can say that, really?
Drajjen: Thanks so much! I work very hard to follow cannon, to the point that I double-check absolutely everything in the books, or (when I'm at work) the HP Lexicon (fanfic writer's best-friend). Good catch about the Death Eaters! You're right—Hermione, Harry, and all have forgotten. But I haven't. ;) They will be reminded in the next chapter or so, and the solution to that mystery shall rear its ugly head.
Tike: I take umbrage at that remark, buddy! For this to be "the worst fanfic ever" it would require all of the following…
--repeeted and obnokshus spelling misstakes
--ALL CAPS EVERYWHERE ALSO NO PUNCTUATION
--A pregnancy involving Hermione, Ginny, McGonagoll, Winky, etc. etc.
--A slash relationship involving Harry, Draco, Neville, Ron, Snape, Lupin, Sirius, Dumbledore, MadEye Moody, etc. in some very unlikely pairing. (Draco and Moody, for example. Or Filch and Neville. Take your pick.)
--Any relationship between people of different generations (a personal pet-peeve) or really incompatible people (Ron and draco? Bellatrix and Harry? Might as well be Aberforth and the Goat.)
--More sex than a University of Florida Dorm building sees in a year.
--Lots of bizarre things happening and no attempt to explain them (I will explain them, we just haven't gotten there yet! It's very soon now.)
--A Mary Sue character
--Really, really bad dialogue ("Wow Harry look its Voldemort" "Wow Ron I see him" "Wow Harry" "Dam it!" "what" "Hermiones snogging draco again")
And while I'm far from perfect, I'm nowhere near topping off the whole list. I mean, even the worst fanfic I've ever read only had 7 out of 9, and I'm sure there are worse ones than that out there.
(Please bear in mind that I'm not knocking all these things—some of the best fanfics I've ever read involved pregnancies, relationships (both slash and otherwise), and so on. But you can't put all of them together—although I'm sure someone will try.)
So, you see, Tike, that is why this could not possibly be the worst fanfic ever.
Of course, since you added this story to your "favorite stories" list, your remark could be intended as ironic. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.
Fubbubbubba to you too.
Scorpion Lord: You're dying for answers? Well, we can't have anyone dying on my account. Very well. ANSWERS!
The chocolate wasn't evil. It was a red herring (or just me having a good tease). Which is good, really, because poisoned candies are so cliched. If Mira is evil, one would hope she'd be more creative. (Ditto for Voldie's other followers.)
When is Peter Pettigrew coming back? We'll see him again in January (Harry's time) although he will play a part in events around the Christmas Holidays, too.
Does it have to be either Pure or Evil? Couldn't it be… Mostly-pure-but-a- little-cranky-on-Tuesdays? Or Evil-with-pure-tendencies? And we can't overlook the possibilities that it's just a ring. Or just a ring with a spell on it. Or just a ring with some kind of power that will manifest itself at a critical moment. Or a cunning link to Sirius beyond the veil which will resurrect him when Harry kills Bellatrix at the end of the fic—although I wouldn't count on that one.
Wynjara: Snape is being a pain, isn't he? Almost like he's.. angry about something…
Wiccan PussyKat: The Chocolate is.... not evil after all. Oh well. Although I promise I didn't do it just to make you look like an idiot. :)
As much as I want you to read my story, don't read it in class!! I'd hate to be getting angry emails from your teachers... Especially being a teacher myself, and all. ;)
Yep, this was the longest. There's an even longer chapter coming up, too.
Thanks for thinking of me, I'm all better now!!
Enjoy the quidditch tryouts? ;)