Dominique rose the following morning earlier than she normally would. Traces of daylight were creeping in through the window and the clock said it was ten past six. She had to report to the Quidditch pitch by eight and be ready to start the day's training. It seemed as if now was as good a time as any to get her day started.

She yawned, still tired, but mostly energized and excited. Beside her, Jack's bed was empty, but she had expected that. She'd known him to be an early riser from the many times he'd slept at their house throughout the years. It never seemed to matter how much sleep he got, unless he was hungover beyond repair, he was always awake before most people. You could count on him to be one of the first people in the Great Hall for breakfast, and he was always the person you would see up early finishing an assignment before classes.

He'd warned her the night before he'd planned to leave early, but that he would try his best to keep quiet. He liked to work out in the mornings, often either lifting weights or running several miles before breakfast. This was especially important to him during Quidditch season and he claimed it set the tone for his whole day. Eat, work out, eat again, and then be ready to stretch and be out on his broom. She admired his work ethic and his ability to stick to his routine, but she wasn't particularly keen to follow suit. She liked to sleep too much.

After performing a few basic stretches, she stood and looked around the room. Her workbook sat closed on the floor where she'd left it yesterday. Their quiet night of bookwork had been exactly that. They'd gotten much more done than she'd anticipated and had been asleep well before midnight. She and Jack may be the lamest people in all of the camp right now, but if it helped get them better prepared for today, then so be it. They'd spent all summer getting piss drunk and staying up all night with their friends. They could take it easy for a few days.

She bent over and finished some easy stretches before dressing for the day, brushing and washing up, and tending to her broom—which she had made sure was in perfect working order in the days leading up to leaving. She generally spent more time tending to her broom than herself, which was something she'd never once felt bad about.

Once everything was in order, she headed out to the common area and saw a few people milling about, most dressed far more casually today than yesterday. Trainers and t-shirts, sports bras and headbands had replaced the nicer, more everyday looking robes and clothes from the previous day. There were also brooms everywhere now; there wasn't a single witch or wizard in sight who wasn't holding one or within close proximity of one.

The energy was different—far more charged and palpable. Dominique could get behind this. Perhaps this was what was missing from the day before. Today everyone was down to business. There was a focus in people's eyes that was missing yesterday. Yesterday had been about meeting and socializing and making friends; today there were other matters to deal with.

She walked down to the canteen, which—like the common area—was completely different from the day before. It was busy, yes, but it wasn't overflowing with people. There were vacant tables and chairs; there was space to move. Dominique could actually see the food behind the counter all the way down the length of the wall instead of forcing her way up to grab the first thing she could. She didn't have to elbow anyone as she helped herself to some fruit and eggs. The bread that had been charmed to toast itself wasn't being swarmed by tens and tens of people at once. As she went and sat—finally indoors—she already suspected that this day was going to be better.

She ate quickly and doubled checked her pitch posting before heading out to find where she needed to be. Her paper had read pitch nine, which she found was one of the last pitches She'd stood around for several confused minutes, seeing as there was no real instruction as to what she should be doing now that she was here. There were others out there—about twenty to thirty people—some lazily sitting around, laughing and chatting with people they'd clearly cliqued off with. Some were stretching themselves out as far as their bodies would allow; some were actually on their brooms flying laps. She assumed she had some free time to do what she needed to prepare, so after forcing herself to stretch her back and arms, she grabbed her broom with excited anticipation. Finally.

She hopped on and took to the sky immediately, falling into a worn and comfortable spot on her broom. She crouched low to the handle and speed up as fast as she could, blowing by some of the more casual flyers in the process. Traffic seemed to be headed in a clockwise motion around the pitch, so she found an outer lane and followed the flow. She zoomed around at top speed for at least three to four laps before finally slowing down and assimilating into the general stream of things.

A loud whistle blew, and though Dominique looked around for the source, most of the others immediately dove straight to the ground. She followed suit, noticing the group of Seekers had doubled its size since she had arrived. There were now nearly sixty to seventy people, and they were all forming a large circle around a collection of people standing in the center. When Dominique touched down to the ground, she made her way to the front and saw that there were five people standing there—the same five people who had been present at the orientation the day before. Just as yesterday, Aiden Lynch seemed to be the man in charge as he stepped forward to address the group.

"Terrific! Happy to see so many of you here and on time," he said, having changed out of the fancy dress robes and now dressed like a proper Seeker. He was wearing a black and red robe that was very reminiscent of his Ballycastle days. Seemed he wanted to remind everyone of exactly where he'd come from.

"We'd like to get right down to business," he continued, glancing behind him at the other Seeking coaches. He made a gesture and Hortensia Wagner stepped forward, handing him a clipboard. "Terrific. Thanks." He faced forward again. "If you recall from your orientation information, you were given a group number as well as a number to wear on your person. What we're going to do is group you off according to those numbers. If you haven't already, please place your number on your clothes and robes where it can be seen."

He glanced at the clipboard. "Ones will go with Coach Sabatino to pitch eight, Twos with Coach Ahlgren and Coach Wagner on seven, Threes with Coach Abreu right here on nine, and Fours with me, also here on nine."

She glanced down at the number four of the front of her shirt. Seemed her first session was with Aiden Lynch as an instructor. Not a bad draw.

"Throughout the course of the day—and week, actually—the coaches will be rotating through each group to offer their own specific skills set and instructions, so you will work with everyone. You may also be asked to change groups based on the overall opinion of the coaching staff. We will inform you if that happens." He gave the group a general nod, scanning the crowd at random. "Terrific! Let's get started."

Dominique watched the crowd begin to disperse around her in different directions. The majority of the people were headed to a nearby pitch, and once things began to settle, she noticed that only about twenty people remained. Aiden Lynch and Malu Abreu were both chatting, seemingly waiting to see what they were left with. When it appeared that everyone had found their way, they both finally turned to the group.

"Terrific," said Lynch, clapping his hands. "Who are my fours? We'll be headed to the left side over here. Threes, you're on the right."

Dominique headed in the direction of the left side of the pitch, noticing Giggleswick then for the first time all day. He also was headed toward the left, along with only seven other people. She glanced over to the other end of the pitch, where another small group was headed in the opposite direction. In contrast, on the pitch next door, a group of what had to be thirty to forty people were gathered. She wasn't quite sure what it all meant.

"I always enjoy these smaller groups the most," said Lynch, having removed his wand from his neck and now talking normally. "Most of you are still students, correct?"

There was a murmur of agreement. Only two people—a guy and a girl—standing in the center, didn't respond. Lynch was now staring at them.

"Jere Nieminen and Valentina Ricci, I take it?"

The man, who seemed quite large for a Seeker, nodded, while the woman said, "Yes."

"Terrific," Lynch said with a smile, and Dominique was starting to sense that he clearly had a limited vocabulary. He turned back to the others. "And what schools are you all from? Who's from Hogwarts?"

Dominique and Giggleswick raised their hands, causing Lynch to grin widely. "My school. I was a Gryffindor. Would have been in the late seventies, so you two weren't even born."

She immediately returned the smile, happy to have that in common with him. "It is the best house."

"I happen to think so," Lynch said, just as Giggleswick rolled his eyes in an obvious manner. Dominique had hoped the gesture would have put Lynch off of him, but instead it made him laugh. "And you're?"

"Ravenclaw."

"Terrific," Lynch said with a smile, moving on to the rest of the group. There were four Seekers from Durmstrang—though only three were still students—and three from Beauxbatons—again, only two still being students. It was then Dominique realized the two in the center—the one's Lynch had specifically addressed by name—were invitation athletes. They'd both graduated months earlier and had probably already performed in the Trials the previous year. She stared at them, now slightly awestruck. They were what she wanted to be.

"No other schools this year, eh?" Lynch continued, glancing up and down the row of them. "Sometimes we get someone from outside the norm, but they usually gather at their own version of Trials in their corners of the globe. I personally feel as though the best Seekers come out of our neck of the woods anyway, so all the better.

"Before we begin—and seeing as most of you are new—let me reiterate how important the rankings are. They will define you from here on out. Starting today. Every time you visit the Trials, you will be defined by a number. That number can grow or shrink depending on the day or the year. The harder you work and the more talented you are, the better the ranking. As head of the Seekers commission, I can tell you right now that I get a lot of good Seekers through here. I also get a lot of rubbish. But I only get a few great ones. It's the great ones that will make a name for themselves and become legends"

He stopped to smile. "And that could start today. But first, I'd like to see what you can do. For my student friends, grab your brooms and meet me at the center of the pitch. My two invitations, I'd like to speak to you both privately for a moment."

Dominique watched the two invitation athletes walk straight to Lynch, though she didn't bother to wait and see what they were staying. She needed to focus. This was it. This was the start of everything. She clutched her broom and headed to the center, where everyone else was already lined up.

Lynch, as it turns out, was focused more on the fundamentals of Quidditch and athleticism. He'd taken them out to the center of the pitch and made them all place their brooms in a row. He'd then asked them to run wind sprints back and forth from the center of the pitch to the rings, but he never said how many times. Turns out there was a reason for that. A half an hour and a good eighteen full sprints back and forth later, he finally blew his whistle and told them to stop.

Dominique was winded and had a sharp pain in her side, but she'd done well enough. She was used to being on a broom, not running, so this was new territory for her. She suddenly wished she'd taken Jack up on an invitation or two to join him for a run.

Everyone was given some time for water, though while they did, they observed Lynch at the center of the pitch. He was using his wand to levitate their brooms, forming a ladder formation well into the air. It was tall enough that Dominique had to squint into the sunlight to see the top.

"What are we supposed to do with that?" someone asked.

"Climb it," said the invitation girl called Valentina. "Repeatedly."

She was right. Minutes later, Lynch instructed them all to climb the broom ladder to the very top, hop over the last broom, and climb back down. He'd be timing them, with the goal being to continuously beat the fastest time posted. They'd have completed the challenge once no one could beat the fastest time. That person would be noted for being the quickest and have it reflect in their daily score.

Dominique drew the fourth slot and watched as one by one, people sped up and down the ladder. The number three, one of the Beauxbatons boys, slipped midway up and began tumbling to the ground. He managed to grip his hand onto a lower broom before he hit the ground, and was now dangling there and struggling to replant his feet. She wondered what exactly would have happened had he not caught the broom. She hadn't seen anyone reach for their wands to catch him in midair, but surely, they weren't letting people fall to their doom. Were they?

She'd find out soon enough, seeing as they were at the task for over an hour. Her first sprint through had been a success, though much more difficult in practice than she'd imagined. The brooms weren't secure and felt very much like they were floating. Each step she took had give, which only made her feel sluggish her first few trips up and down. She did gradually get faster—everyone did—until muscle memory started to take over and make the task suddenly seem fairly easy. That is, until they all started to wear from the exhaustion of having to perform it over and over.

It was the ninth round through when someone legitimately fell. There had been many slips and catches; many near misses and mad grabs for something to hold on to. On the whole, everyone was getting through it until the same Beauxbatons boy from before, she'd since learned was named Adrien,went over the top broom too quickly. His feet missed the next broom and he tumbled too far away from the ladder to even try and grab something. He was headed straight for the ground, screaming as he did so. Lynch was just watching, looking only the slightest bit concerned.

Dominique looked away; she couldn't watch. All she could hear was one of Adrien's schoolmates gasp loudly at what she had to assume was near impact.

But there was silence. No sound of a body smacking the ground. No sobs or screams. Once she did finally look, she saw the boy facing down and floating barely an inch from the ground. He was so close that the blades of grass had to have been tickling the tip of his nose. He lifted his head up, his eyes still filled with terror and shock, and was staring directly at Lynch.

Lynch, in turn, looked bored. "Next one up, please."

This continued on until they finally couldn't beat the large invitation bloke's time of one minute and twenty seven seconds. The closest Dominique could come was a minute forty. Giggleswick was just behind her at a minute forty-two. By her count, they were third and fourth, respectively.

Once they were finally given a proper break to sit and catch their breath, Dominique noticed she had sweat dripping off every part of her. She felt as if someone had killed the breeze and turned up the heat. As she continued to fill her bottle up with water and drain it all down in large gulps, she once again noticed she hadn't been required to use her broom that morning. She'd only even touched it while climbing the ladder. When exactly was the actual Quidditch going to start?

Malu Abreu was now present on their side of the pitch, a broom and a medium sized chest in her arms. Lynch had disappeared without a word to the opposite end and to the other group, so it must have been time for a new coach. Dominique was unsure as to whether this was a good or bad thing.

Abreu didn't appear to be struggling to carry the chest, so whatever was in there must have been rather light. She proceeded to place it on the ground and open it; inside revealing dummy Snitches. Everyone was watching her now, but she again said nothing as she removed several of them and placed them in a pile on the grass. She proceeded to levitate all of them about two feet off of the ground and then sent a collection of markers into the air to form large circles. There was a bullseye pattern to the sky formation and, like the ladder, it went well up into the air. Dominique again craned her neck up in order to take it all in. She could only hope that she had access to her broom this time since she couldn't figure out how she'd get up there otherwise.

"Shall we begin?" Abreu asked, her jet black hair moving in what little breeze there was now. "You'll need your brooms." She mounted her own and shot straight into the sky. She was weaving in and out of the markers as someone nearby muttered, "At least we actually get to fucking fly this time."

Expert diving technique, Abreu explained once everyone was mounted and up, was what set Seekers apart from Chasers. Chasers had to dive, of course, but Seekers had to be able to dive within inches of the ground and stop before the two met. There was skill and precision required in their diving. The six rings of the bullseye represented a starting point at which she wanted to see each and every one of them dive from, only to reach the hovering dummy Snitch down below.

The further out on the circle, the more of an angle they had to fly down. The more they moved toward the center, the less of an angle they had. If one could get to the last marker, it was essentially as if they were going straight down—a near impossible move to pull off. Dominique had never seen someone intentionally do it, though she had witnessed it accidentally at the professional level. She had to think that if anyone could hit that Snitch from the center marker, they deserved to go pro then and there.

Just as they'd done with Lynch and his exercise games, they again devoted more hellish hours to this task—but at least this time they were on a broom. The sun beat down on her and made the sweat sting her eyes, and she repeatedly had to use her t-shirt to wipe it away. Not the best time to have impaired vision, but she had to push through. She was a skilled diver, but even she didn't think she could risk going past the third ring.

Ring six and five were standard dives, and she pulled up and out of each easily, as did most of the others. By four, people were starting to slip up. Adrien—the only person whose name she'd learned given just how terrible he was—had been struggling at five, so four came off as impossible for him. Two of the Durmstrang Seekers pulled off the dive but missed the Snitch at four, and even Giggleswick bobbled a bit, though recovered just as quickly. Dominique knew she was a better diver than him. Every time it had come down to a steep dive between the two, she'd always won it out.

Three is where she started to have some issues. Several people had stopped moving forward at that point, instead remaining at four. At three, the angle was getting so tight that she struggled to hold onto her broom for much of the way down. She'd pulled the dive off in the past and knew she could if she concentrated.

She took a deep breath at three and pointed herself down, immediately accelerating her speed as fast as she could handle. The ground was getting closer, though when she connected with the Snitch and managed to still pull herself away from the ground, she wanted to scream for joy. She didn't, but she did let out a loud grunt sort of noise; something of a primal nature. She kept it together and swiftly flew back up to her place. She noted Abreu throwing a quick glance in her direction before recording something with a Quick Quill. That one move alone hopefully put her into the top of the pack.

The invitation called Valentina went to attempt the two, causing everyone to stop and watch. Dominique's stomach flipped at the idea of witnessing this, but Valentina merely took a deep breath and began racing toward the Snitch below, her broom practically perpendicular to the ground for much of the trip. She actually looked rather confident, as if she'd done this a hundred times, and somehow she pulled it out and managed to fly away from the ground unscathed with a dummy Snitch in her hands. Dominique gaped while the two other Beauxbatons' kids clapped and cheered. Abreu was now writing something of length in her notes.

Valentina swung back up and was immediately greeted by her Beauxbatons' friends. She looked proud but modest, and Dominique didn't think she'd be holding it together that well. Had she pulled that off, she would have made sure everyone in this bloody camp knew it. She turned and looked back down at the dummy Snitch below her. Did she have it in her to try it at the two? Every ounce of energy had been drained from her body at this point, but something inside of her told her to give it a shot. None of the others were even considering it, and if she wanted to stand out, this was what she needed to do. She had to trust herself and her skills. Even if she didn't catch the Snitch, perhaps she'd get credit for the attempt.

With a heavy breath, she flew to one of the two markers and looked down. It was barely a few degrees off of a straight shot. This seemed reckless. Many of the others were busy performing their dives back at the other numbers to even notice, though Valentina was watching her. She even smiled at her in an encouraging sort of manner. Dominique couldn't tell if it was genuine or instead hopeful. After all, if she messed this up, it would only make her look that much better in comparison.

"I can do this," she said to herself. "I can do this. I can do this."

She took the chance and started to dive, her speed building quickly and her broom suddenly feeling as if it was slipping straight out from under her. She felt as if she were in a free fall and that there was no comfortable way to both grab her broom and keep herself on it while also reaching out to catch the Snitch. She attempted to pull her right arm off just a bit, and immediately felt herself wobble and her body pulling away from her broom as if she were falling forward. She grasped her broom, but it made the handle shake hard given it was fighting against gravity and speed. The ground was coming up quickly now and she had to pull up. She was losing control. If she could just go a little further...

She pulled up out of instinct, her broom shaking and jostling her forward. Had she not gripped on worth all of her might, she would have flown over the front and hit the ground. As it were, she managed to steady herself, though her knuckles were now white as she looked down at the grip she currently had.

With a heavy sigh and a wipe of her brow, she flew back up to the top where everyone was watching her, Abreu included. She gave her a quick once over, her quill working quickly, but her face was unreadable. She didn't know if she was disappointed by the failure or impressed by the attempt. Around her, the others were giving her sideways glances and whispering amongst themselves. Some weren't even paying attention and instead focusing on their own dives back at four and three. Giggleswick was among these, though she didn't believe for a second that he hadn't watched every second of her attempt. He'd probably loved that she'd missed, but she'd tried it and that was all that mattered. Perhaps after a few more runs at three, she could try again.

"You'll have an hour for lunch," Abreu said out of nowhere, after what had seemed like a lifetime of diving. Dominique's head was killing her thanks to the hours spent experiencing intense pressure changes. She felt a wreck and probably looked like one too; she certainly felt like she smelled like one. Everything was starting to ache and she was only half way through the day. An hour for lunch seemed too short. She needed a week to rest.

Once on the ground, she noticed that the crowds from the start of the day had returned to this pitch; everyone now queuing around setup that had somehow appeared without Dominique noticing. There were several wizards in stark white robes as well as over a dozen house elves now standing beside large floating containers and tables. She watched as several of the house elves began pulling small boxes out of one by one and stacking them up in small piles.

"Boxed lunches have been brought out here thanks to the canteen staff," came Lynch's booming voice from somewhere in the vicinity. "Though you're welcome to make a run for the actual canteen if you prefer. But, you only have an hour and tardiness upon return can affect your ranking."

An hour seemed like no time at all. The canteen was at least a ten minute walk in both directions, and once she found food and sat and ate, she'd have to be rushing back. She was starving and barely had any energy left to walk the length of the pitch to collect a box, let alone rush down the path and back to get a hot meal. It seemed that decision was made for her—and for most of the others as well—since the crowd was now moving almost as one down to where the food was being staged. A few people looked to be headed toward the exit and down the path, but Dominique couldn't help but notice that those people didn't look particularly worse for the wear. They weren't even sweating.

A smiley house elf handed her a box as she walked down the queue collecting the things she needed. She asked for a napkin, and another house elf happily obliged, acting as if she'd made his day by speaking to him. Behind her, someone asked what was in the box, to which one of the white robed wizards replied, "Ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, some cold veggies, and some crisps. "

"I'm a vegetarian, I don't eat ham."

A house elf immediately rushed off at that, returning barely ten seconds later with a new box for the person who'd spoken. "Cheese sandwich!"

"Can I get one of those? I don't like ham."

Dominique turned away once people were now hurling requests at the food service staff. With her hands full, she realized that once again she was eating outside. There was nowhere to hide in the shade this time, what with only a giant, exposed Quidditch pitch ahead of her. Instead, people had plopped themselves down in small groups or off on their own to the first place they could claim. She was about to do the same and make her way to the perimeter of the group, when someone suddenly called her name.

She turned to see a girl with curly, dark, shoulder length hair waving at her. It was Annabelle, the former Hufflepuff Seeker she'd seen the day before. She was sitting with three other people on the ground, though she was propped up on her knees to elevate herself above everyone else and be more visible. She was beckoning Dominique over to join them.

For the briefest of moments, she considered acting as if she couldn't hear her. She wasn't sure she had it in her to be social after the morning's drills. but they'd already made eye contact, so it seemed it was too late to really play dumb. She walked over, awkwardly smiling at the group of people who, besides Annabelle, she'd never seen before.

"Hi!" Annabelle said, smiling. "I knew that was you yesterday. You know, at the meeting? I waved but you looked away, so I thought maybe I had the wrong person." She gestured to a spot on the ground for Dominique to take. "Join us."

"Oh, right," Dominique said, slowly sitting where she was told. "I thought that was you too, but I wasn't sure."

Annabelle proceeded to introduce her to the people she was sitting with. One was called Leevis, and he was inhaling his sandwich and didn't even acknowledge the introduction. A girl called Blissa was beside him, and she at least politely waved. Last was a bloke called Andy, who was apparently the Hufflepuff Seeker before Annabelle, though Dominique didn't remember him. He'd taken the ham out of his sandwich and was poking holes into it for some reason.

Annabelle seemed to sense Dominique's confusion at the gesture and shrugged. "Seekers often are a little off, aren't we?" She turned back to the rest of them. "Anyway, this is Dominique. She's still in school. First time here."

Dominique said nothing, but forced a pinched smile as she turned to her box and began to open it. She was so hungry she would eat anything put in front of her.

"You enjoying yourself so far?" Annabelle asked, picking up her own apple to eat. "What'd you get into last night? Anything fun?"

She shook her head, picking up her sandwich for the first time and doing her best to not simply swallow it whole. "No, not really. Stayed back at the dorms and got some work done."

Annabelle's eyebrow cocked in a curious way. "Oh. Sounds...fun."

Dominique, not wanting to look like a complete loser, shook her head once more. "It's just that this place is rather overwhelming. Didn't really know where to go or what to do."

Annabelle considered that as she chewed on her apple. Even the way she did that seemed rather cool. She'd always seemed so grown up, even though she was only two years older than her. There was something about the way she carried herself, as if she had worlds of experience and life already behind her. It was an enviable quality—and Dominique wasn't often jealous of people. At school, Annabelle's circle of friends had always taken most of the attention due to being generally polished and perfect, but Annabelle wasn't perfect and still stood out. She wasn't one that would exactly be called pretty, but she was attractive in a way that wasn't really explainable. She said what she wanted to and people often loved her for it; Dominique said what she wanted and the opposite happened.

"I could see that," Annabelle said. "But you really can wander into any of the dorms and find something to do. Everyone's cool. Over in A, well, you're in A, so you know. It's for the straight and narrow. B usually has more dancing and music. C is more drinking games and pub atmosphere. And D's got…"

"Everything else combined," Leevis mumbled, speaking for the first time after having finally finished his sandwich. "And then so much more. You don't come out of D the same as you went in."

"It's only a bit hardcore," Annabelle said with a wave of her hand. "Don't listen to everyone else. They're trying to scare you. They like to keep the young ones out because they tend to be annoying. Anyway, I'm in C. I'm rooming with Felicity Crane, if you remember her? She was a Keeper for Slytherin. In my year?"

Dominique nodded. She remembered everyone who'd she's personally played Quidditch against.

"Then, Durrin, I know you remember him," she said, smiling at her. "He's down the hall. Him and Stu Reynolds. Loads of people I'm sure you remember, so don't be afraid to come by. We have a good time."

It was a nice invitation; one that she may take her up on it she ever decided to do something in this place. At the moment, however, she couldn't comprehend even attempting to go out if every day was as exhausting as this one. Where did these people even find the energy to stay up all night and then be worked to death by these coaches the next day? There had to be a secret she was missing.

"How do you even manage to party all night and then do this?" Dominique asked, making a general gesture around the pitch. "I don't think I've ever worked so hard in my entire life, and you look…"

"Relaxed? Refreshed?" Blissa asked, tossing her apple core back into her box. It was true. They all looked fresh and dewy, as if they'd maybe been sweating for a bit, but nothing a quick swipe with a towel wouldn't fix. Their hair was still mostly in place; no one looked like they wanted to collapse. None of them looked to be particularly in great shape, so it didn't make any sense for them to look this put together if they'd been training as she had.

Annabelle laughed. "You're on a different track, darling."

"A different track?"

She sat up and tucked her legs underneath her. "It's your first year. You're unranked and untested."

"They're basically trying to kill you," said Andy, who'd just eaten his holey ham. "See how much they can push you and if you'll break."

"Something like that," Annabelle said. "See, this is my third time here. My first time here, they put me in that group they've got you in now. Group A, but I call it the Eager Elite. They made me fly faster than I ever had, drive with more precision, turn with more speed. They made me run, jump, and tumble a thousand times. If you could do it on a fucking broom, they made me do it. It was awful. They really do want to push you to see if you can hack it. I learned, I cannot. I mean, you remember from school? I was never the best Seeker. I was never going pro. And truth be told, I don't think I ever wanted to."

That was true. She wasn't going to say it, but at least Annabelle could admit it.

"So, after that first day, even with busting my arse as hard as I could, I got put down into Group B—I call it the Tryhards. Now, that wasn't such a bad thing because the Tryhards were less work. Still work, but I wasn't getting pushed as hard or looked at as much. That was when someone explained to me—like I am to you—that you're grouped based on your talent level. And that comes from the numbered ranking you're given near the end of this week. The Eager Elite are top level talent and the untested. Then tomorrow, you'll either stay there or slip down to another group based off how you did today."

She began ticking off her fingers. "As I said, after the Eager Elite, the Tryhards are made up of all the people who got a seven rankings last year. Then the Leftovers is for fives and sixes. Then the Good Time Group is one through four." She gestured around. "Most of the Good Time Group doesn't even show up until midday because they want to sleep in. They're really only here for the experience."

"And the lower you're ranked," said Blissa, pointing across the pitch to where the coaches were milling about, looking as if they were ready to start things up again, "the less they give a shit. The bottom group that actually showed up were playing tag on their brooms for the first forty-five minutes this morning before someone even bothered to get them a Snitch."

Dominique sat up straighter, wanting to make sure she understood correctly. "So, while I'm working my arse off, there are people...playing tag? That's it? That's all they have to do? I came close to splitting my skull open a few minutes ago."

The group around her nodded. "But keep in mind, they don't have dreams of Quidditch stardom. Do you?"

"I mean..." She didn't know how to finish that statement. It seemed a little childish to claim that she had big dreams of being a Quidditch star in front of her present company.

"And there's the difference," Annabelle said. "You get back what you put out around this place. They do mean that."

Dominique picked up her water bottle and drained it completely. Her thoughts lost on the weird hierarchy of this place. "And what group are you in?"

"These days?" Annabelle asked. "Happily a Leftover. I feel if I ever went lower than that, I'd just stop coming. I like the Quidditch, but in a lowkey way. A fun way. That's where we are in the Leftovers. It lets me enjoy playing and enjoy being here and see my mates. Life's got everyone so busy now, this week is a nice week to reconnect."

An amplified voice suddenly called out over the pitch that they had five minutes to clean up and return to their assigned pitches. Dominique struggled to stand up; her arms and legs felt like jelly after only a few minutes of sitting. The day was only half over….

"Well, see you later," Annabelle said, now even looking more relaxed and refreshed than earlier. "Oh, and have fun with Sabatino." She made a face that Dominique didn't find reassuring as she watched her collect her trash and walk away with her friends. She still had three more instructors and half a day worth of training to get through. She didn't know how she was going to manage this.