Broderick Johnson came trudging through the archway, waving cheerfully at them.

"He's a first year," Katie groaned in a half-whisper.

"Maybe he's good," Ron said hopefully, "Angelina was..."

"Ron, he's a first year!" Katie said despondently, "And he's probably first- rate, but McGonagall—"

"She let Harry," Ginny interrupted, "She might let Broderick."

"I think that was more of an exception," Harry said. He had a feeling even McGonagall couldn't bend the rules too much. But any further speculation was cut off as Broderick walked within earshot.

"Morning!" he said brightly.

"Morning," Harry said, trying to sound firm, "I'm really sorry, Broderick, but—"

"Yeah, I know," he interrupted, "Second year and above. But I thought I might try for an alternate? McGonagall might allow it. After all, doesn't seem to be anyone else here, is there?"

"They're probably just running late," Harry said, a bit defensively.

Broderick shrugged. "At least this way, I get to check out the new blood. If they arrive. [I]When[/I] they arrive," he corrected, at a surly glance from Ron.

"Well, alright," Harry said, forcing a resolute smile, "We might as well get up in the air and warm up a bit. Broderick, grab one of the school brooms and join us."

Broderick's face split into a wide-eyed, charming grin. Katie and Ginny laughed under their breaths, as he raced off towards the broom rack.

"He smiles just like Angelina!" Katie said cheerfully.

"I know, isn't it cute?"

Harry kicked off, and felt the crisp wind ruffling his hair, the morning sun beating gently on his cheek, singeing the last vestiges of mist away. There was something to be said for practicing in the morning, he noted. He let off a couple of loops, raced from one end of the field to the other, and did a couple Wronski Feints, just to get the feel of it again.

"Oi – quit showing off!" Ron hollered with a grin.

"Right!" Harry shouted, "Broderick – why don't you get the Quaffle out? Everyone form up."

Harry watched surreptitiously, as Broderick flew down to the ground, and got the Quaffle from the trunk. He was a little wobbly getting on and off his broom, as it was hovering a bit high for him.

"That's alright," Harry thought, "If he ever plays for us, he'll use his own broom from home, I'm sure he's got one..."

He watched him fly back up with the Quaffle under his arm, and was relieved to see that he flew smoothly one-handed, though he couldn't get a sense for his speed or his cornering.

They formed a hovering circle mid-air, and began to practice passing. Ron had evidently been practicing over the summer. Harry noticed more than before that his shoulders were a bit beefier, and it showed in his passing – much faster, stronger, and more accurate. Ginny on the other hand, was having a little difficulty making the transition from Seeker. She was great at catching, and threw accurately, but her passes were weak and slow.

"It's her build," Harry thought pensively, "Mite too small for a Chaser, really." He jerked his head over to Katie as he realized he was staring. Katie passed to Broderick, and Harry nodded – she was solid, as ever, and a nice catch by Broderick.

Broderick grinned, and motioned for Harry to move back. Raising an eyebrow, Harry obliged.

Broderick wound way back, and as he threw, his left leg kicked up and hit into the back of the school broom, allowing his whole frame to twist on the spot – as a result, the throw was twice as powerful – the Quaffle nearly knocked Harry off his broom when he caught it. It looked more like a throw that a discus player would use, than anything else.

"Woah!" shouted Ron, "That was wicked!"

"Thanks!" Broderick said, grinning smugly, "It's my own move. Haven't named it yet."

Harry smiled, though he felt a little uneasy. This kid was good, no doubt, but he was a little smug. He'd have to put him through his paces a bit. He lobbed the Quaffle to Sloper, who attempted to bat it in Kirke's direction, but wound up aiming straight for Katie's head. True to form, she snagged it with one arm, and somersaulted backwards on her broom.

"Here you go," she said tossing it back to him. Her tone was light, but Harry could tell she had been hoping they'd be a bit more improved over the summer. Poor Jack was bright red.

"Sorry," he said, fumphering to catch the Quaffle and still hold on to his bat, and his broom. He lobbed it back to Harry. "Have another go?"

"Sure," Harry said, "Try to get a volley going between you two."

He lobbed the Quaffle again, and this time Sloper managed to wallop it directly at Kirke. It hit him square in the head, and he slipped sideways off his broom. The whole team gasped and shot forward a few feet, but Kirke had managed to hang on.

"See?" he said feebly, "Been working on my Sloth Grip Roll!"

"I think you're meant to go all the way around," Broderick said, grinning. Harry scowled a bit. It was time to see what this kid could really do.

"Alright...let's divvy up. Ron, you Keep. Ginny, Katie – you defend, for now. Sloper, Kirke? Broderick and I are going to try to score – you stop us with the Bludgers. Oh, err, would you go release them?"

"Sure!" Kirke said, flying in a crooked line down to the chest.

"Bludgers loose!" he hollered, and everybody turned to watch them being released, to ensure they weren't Bludgered straight off the bat.

"Alright!" Harry shouted, "Let's play some Quidditch!"

Ginny tossed the Quaffle to Harry, having retrieved it from the pitch, and Harry instantly chucked it at Broderick. He was caught a bit off guard, and wobbled a bit when he caught it, his eyes widening in surprise. Harry gave him a wink, and Broderick smiled that familiar, toothy grin. They wove in and out, Ginny and Katie doing an excellent job of getting in their way. Broderick passed to Harry, and Ginny shot through, seizing the Quaffle in mid-air.

"That's alright," Harry shouted to Broderick, "It was a good throw. Nice intercept, Ginny."

"I know," she said flashing him a smile. He knew exactly how she felt. Practicing in your back yard was one thing, and he hadn't even had that – to be out above the pitch with your teammates was something else entirely. The shocking thought suddenly occurred to him that he only had one more year after this to play Quidditch.

It was even more shocking when the Quaffle suddenly diverted his attention. It was only thanks to his quick reflexes that he caught it, and as it was, the force of Broderick's pass spun him neatly around on his broom. Broderick gave him a wicked grin, and flashed his eyebrows a couple times. Harry nodded.

"Good one! Alright, I'm going to pass to you, and you try to score."

He chucked the Quaffle over, and stopped midair to watch. Broderick feinted a couple times and blew past Ginny...nice broomwork there. But Katie was wise to him, and it didn't work the second time. He had to whip the Quaffle behind his back to keep her from grabbing it. Leaning back on the broom, he almost capsized, but suddenly went into a dive, diagonally. Katie was hot on his heels, but she had to dodge away from one of Sloper's ill-timed Bludgers.

"Sorry!" he shouted miserably.

Broderick cornered neatly, quickly gained height, and reared his arm back for the shot.

"Come on, Ron," Harry muttered between gritted teeth.

Broderick did his patented move again, whipping the Quaffle full-tilt at the center hoop. Ron was just barely able to stretch his hand out in time, but again, the force of the throw spun him over on his broom, and his leg slammed into the hoop. He dangled from the broom by one hand for a moment, the Quaffle clasped to his chest with the other arm. Then, with a few small swings, he kicked back up onto his broom, red-faced and laughing.

"Whoof!" he said, "That's some throw!"

"You alright, Ron?" Harry hollered, grinning like a Cheshire cat. What an arm!

"Just a bruise," Ron hollered, as he tossed the Quaffle back to Broderick.

Harry heard a small "Uhm?" from the Quidditch pitch, and realized with a little jolt of panic that this wasn't just for fun, that he had a job to do. He scanned the pitch until he found—

"[I]Neville??[/I]"

"Hi, Harry!" Neville said, waving shyly. He was clutching what seemed to be a positively ancient broom...An original Comet, from the look of it. Using the school broom would actually be an improvement.

Harry glided to a landing height, and hopped neatly off his Firebolt, which hovered, waiting for him.

"You're...you're not...trying out?"

"Well," Neville said, blushing furiously, "You mentioned...that is...after the train? I thought 'I might as well'..."

"Ohhhhh...that's right, I did, didn't I...Well, [I]great![/I]" Harry said, a little overenthusiastically, "Hop on! Let's see what you can do!"

Harry lept onto his broom, and returned to the game.

"Oi!" he hollered, and the action ground to a halt, Kirke grabbing the Bludger and holding it to his chest as it struggled. Katie adopted a despairing expression as she saw Neville winding his wobbly way up to meet them, and Ginny's eyes went wide. Ron's jaw had dropped.

"Right!" Harry said cheerfully, "Err, this is Neville...Same as before. Ginny and Katie defending, Sloper and Kirke Beating...Broderick, you and Neville pass it back and forth a few times...then give the Quaffle to Neville...Neville, you take the shot – I'll watch."

Harry floated up above them, where he could get a clearer view of the action.

"Ready?" he hollered, "Go!"

Kirke released the Bludger, and straightaway pelted it at Neville, who anxiously wrenched his broom out of the way. The knobbly old thing shuddered, and seemed to take an age to move anywhere. Not to mention Neville looked very ill-seated, and had difficulty steering one-handed.

"Here!" Broderick shouted.

Neville reared back his arm, and threw a perfect pass to Broderick. Harry's eyes nearly jumped out of his head. When had Neville gotten good at Quidditch?

As soon as the Quaffle had left his hands, however, he fell forward slightly, gripping the broom with both hands, urging it forward. He was not a confident flyer at all, Harry had to admit. That would take a lot of work. And he seemed to be doing far too much of the work with his hands, and not using his body weight nearly enough. Broderick was literally flying circles around him, waiting for a chance to pass it back. Ginny and Katie seemed to be going a bit easy on them.

Finally, Broderick got impatient and bellowed, "You're open! Catch!"

He flung the Quaffle at Neville, and to Harry's amazement, he caught it –

-- with both hands. He then let out a loud "OOT!" of dismay, and abruptly seized the broom handle, nearly dropping the Quaffle in the process. Harry groaned, and rubbed his forehead. Neville trundled up to the center hoop, ducked as another Bludger whizzed by him (well at least Kirke is improving, Harry remarked mentally) and seemed to take forever to line up his shot.

Finally, he reached back, and threw what Harry had to admit was a rather decent shot. It would have been fine, had he not taken an hour to prepare it...Ron knew exactly where it was going, for he'd already moved to the top right corner of the hoop, but Harry was surprised to see him flail wildly and miss. The shot went in. Neville turned on his broom, beaming, and gave Harry a thumbs-up.

Harry returned the gesture. "Nice work, Neville! Err, Ron? That was..."

But Ron was giving him an odd look, darting his eyes to Neville and back. Suddenly Harry got it.

"Well, you did your best," Harry said quickly, "Try to keep your eye on the Quaffle though."

"Right. Sorry," Ron said, frowning seriously, but he winked when Neville's back had turned.

They played a little while longer, and Harry was gratified to see that Sloper and Kirke's aim had improved a bit since the beginning of practice – maybe they just needed more warm-up than most. Neville's flying, on the other hand, remained abysmal, but his shots were always clean and accurate. Broderick was indeed, a very strong Quidditch player, all around, but he tired quickly – by the end of tryouts, his shots were going a bit wild in his fatigue. Ginny had a similar problem, her throws getting gradually weaker.

"That'll fix though, with more practice," Harry noted mentally, and then had to remind himself that Broderick wouldn't be allowed on the team.

"Oh no," he thought with alarm, "And that means..."

"Harry?" Katie called, "We'd better call it quits...we've run over a bit." Indeed, there were some people in Hufflepuff uniforms watching from the stands. Harry was a bit embarrassed – if he'd known another team was going to be there, he would have hoped for a few more people, besides Neville and a first-year.

"Alright," he shouted, more confidently than he felt, "Well done! Hit the showers."

He floated down to the pitch, and walked towards the locker room, hopping off his broom without breaking his stride.

"Potter!"

It was Zacharias Smith.

"Zack! Hi," Harry said amiably.

Zacharias came jogging over, carrying his broom. He leaned in confidentially.

"So, how'd it go?"

"Eh...alright," Harry said guardedly, "You know how it is. First practice after summer and all that."

"Ah, good, good," Zacharias said, and Harry noticed his normally sonorous voice sounded a little tense, "That new kid...Brody? Brian?"

"Broderick Johnson, yeah – he's Angelina's little brother."

"Ah, right. You [I]do[/I] know," Zacharias said, eyeing Harry suspiciously, "that he's a first-year?"

"Relax, Zack," Harry said, "He's just trying out as an alternate. I'm going to run it by McGonagall first thing Monday."

"Ah, very well then," Zacharias said coolly, "Just checking." And he mounted his broom and kicked off.

Harry rolled his eyes. He hadn't even asked about the D.A. meetings. Nope, just wanted to make sure Harry wasn't cheating at Quidditch. He wondered vaguely whether he'd been made captain, or whether he was still just Chasing. On the other hand, he reflected with a grin, he wouldn't have bothered to remind him unless Broderick had him running scared.

Harry heard the Hufflepuffs shouting to each other, and the dull thwack of the Quaffle being passed around as he walked towards the showers, broom in hand. He rotated his shoulder a bit, and was annoyed to find that he was quite stiff – it'd take about a good solid week of training until his body was able to stand a full practice without complaint.

He was about to enter the locker rooms, when he heard someone's voice coming from beneath the bleachers...

"Please – stop it!"

His ears perked up...it sounded like Hermione...