Ch 3

I stared at him, rendered speechless for several moments. Trent recovered before me and voiced the question, actually two questions that had temporarily stunned his mind.

"What?!" he exclaimed and jerking his thumb at me, "Why her?"

Question one did not bother me so much as question two. Although I was never really good at ground level sports, it was amazing how naturally flying came to me as it does for our feather-brained bozos in the sky.

I discovered this sporting streak quite by accident.

It was the day after the last Halloween feast and I had overslept at the Astronomy towers after an all-nighter girl talk with some Ravenclaws. It was therefore was a bit of shock to us the next morning when we discovered that the first lesson was due to start in 15 minutes.

Dashing down the ladder and dodging several well-breakfasted students, I came to the fourth floor and had to pause. The stairs were jammed with noisy students hurrying to their classes and as luck would have it, my first class was Potions. Much as he dislikes latecomers, it irks Snape to no end having one from his own house.

Bearing this in mind, I desperately seated myself on the stair railing and was about to begin a painfully slow descent downstairs.

That's when I noticed the Ravenclaw Quidditch team coming back from their morning practice. Heading the team was their captain, a sniffy slender boy of fifteen named Raymond Brown, who was holding his broom over the student's bobbing heads making sure no-one scratched it's shiny surface.

As the saying goes, Inspiration struck.

Hesitating for a moment, I lifted the broom easily out of his hands, hoisted myself onto the thing and dived over the railing.

By curious luck, the staircases beneath had cleared on two floors leaving me enough free space for vertical flying. I say 'vertical' because that was the only position to be managed without hitting one of the stairs unexpectedly. Even Peeves the poltergeist, who happened to be hitting some second years with a peashooter gasped.

The first bit of trouble began when the broom began shuddering slowly then rapidly in an attempt literally to shake me off. There was an anti-theft charm on the blasted thing and without a firm grip I would be flung off to certain injury.

It must have looked funny, because Peeves was laughing and spinning backwards out of the corner of my eye. In an attempt to straighten the broom again I was hit instead by an incoming staircase that flipped me over.

I barely recovered from that shock when another staircase nudged the front of the stick and for a while everything went blurry in the recent ping-pong spate .

To this day, I don't know how I managed it.

Still hanging upside down and too disorientated to make any changes save to firmly interlock my legs on the stick, I flew down and did a sharp turn to what I thought was the left. The broom flew straight through the open doors of the Great Hall on the right and narrowly missed a headlong collision with a group of emerging third years.

When I finally opened my eyes, I was still upside down and clutching the broom for all it was worth, from the wall behind the staff table where the broomstick had made a deep indent.

After the week's detention with Snape was over (along with some really scathing remarks that still occasionally haunt me), I was handed a slip from Dorchester signaling the start of my official Quidditch training days.

"Dorchester," I said, shaking off the remnants of the flashback, "What do you mean I have to replace Croesus? I've only ever done tryouts, not," I added "that I had many of those.."

Dorchester shook his closely cropped head impatiently. "Look, do you think we give a d--- right now? we didn't think we'd need any backup for the Seeker position and you were our last choice.... " he added in a tone of regret which I thought was uncalled for.

"and anyway, Madam Pomprey has a new shipment of Skele – mend in case of ..well.. of any 'accidents', so what else is there to worry about?.. "

Noticing the look on my face, he began to put across an eloquent speech of the great opportunity I was offered and how it was just like me to throw away an excellent chance to actually be on the team not, he concluded nastily, that I would ever have been in the team had Croesus not inconveniently er, dropped out.

Dorchester turned away abruptly, his gaze anxious for a moment and I saw Madam Hooch making impatient signs to him for the verdict. My verdict.

I resigned myself to the hand fate had dealt.

"Alright!" I replied testily." But dont expect any miracles.."

The whistle blew, and Professor McGonagall made the important communication to the crowd. Dorchester and Trent had already run off the field and had brought my broom, accompanying it like a couple of pallbearers. I was curiously touched by this morbid gesture of faith in me, and from a team with whom I normally had an uneasy alliance.

Meanwhile waves of astonished outrage poured from the crimson stands and it was a while before the whistle was heard again signaling the start of the second half.

As I was about to mount the broom, Trent stayed my hand.

"Not yet. Wait for the whistle."

I hid the smile threatening to erupt from the corner of my mouth. This almost thoughtful gesture on his part meant something was bothering him and I think I knew what it was. Trent has a keen sporting streak in him, and I suspect that the outcome of this game depended largely on how Slytherin performed. I almost felt sorry for him, as Croesus was a sure thing during the practise sessions and now the favourite had given way to me.

I decided to see if I was right.

"So Flavey, are you so sure that I can get the snitch?" I asked , folding my hands in mock defiance.

Trents trademark scowl which was focused on Madam Hooch softened slightly. " Yes."

"Really?" I said , not believing my ears.

"Because if you dont, Meadowes I will personally see you through a private investigative tour of Filchs' torture chambers after the match."

Slytherins after all will be Slytherins.