At five o'clock exactly, Dominique walked through the doors to the Seeker's room and saw nothing more than one long table with five wizards in red robes sitting behind it. The rankings were now available, and a crowd of fellow Seekers had gathered to immediately push forward. Someone in an official capacity announced that everyone needed to queue up in front of the wizard who had the first letter of their last name posted.

With that information, she walked straight to the end of the table; the forever advantage of her last name being at the end of the alphabet was that she was always in the last group and she never had to search. She found herself behind three other people, all of whom were handed a folded sheet of parchment and sent on their way. Once it was her turn, she gave the wizard her name and he immediately tapped the stack with his wand, causing one of the pieces of parchment to emerge from the pile. It floated into her hands and she took it, stepping aside as soon as she did.

She stared at it as she walked off to the side of the room, knowing that all of the answers she sought were currently inside. On the outside was her name, birthdate, and position written in perfectly legible script. Also included was a red stamp of the IQA and the words, "Student Athlete."

Everyone around her was tearing into their documents. Many were silently reading theirs over, and others let out cries of annoyance or disappointment. Some people were swearing–Dominique definitely heard a few 'fucks'–and a very small number had exclaimed happily. This was it. It was now or never.

As she slowly broke the seal that was binding the parchment together, she cast a look around the group once more–now seeing Giggleswick on the perimeter of the room reading over his. He evidently hadn't had to receive too much medical attention if he was standing there, though his face wasn't particularly happy or upset. He was reading silently; his expression one of complete concentration. She immediately remembered what Sabatino had said about giving him the edge, which she had to assume meant receiving a decent rank. If his reaction was one of stunned silence, that didn't bode well for her.

With a heavy breath, she opened the paper. On it were plenty of notes and scores. She noticed at least five different kinds of handwriting and words such as "potential" and "focus" stood out to her at first glance. One comment, in the messiest script of them all, blatantly said, "Does not possess the drive to make it at the next level," and she knew right away for whom the worst handwriting belonged to.

The main draw on the entire sheet was a large number sitting inside of a box in the upper right hand corner. Her ranking. A number seven stared back at her in such a bold way that it was almost as if she'd never seen the number. She stared at it, slightly confused. She had been under the impression she was doomed to something lower, but here the seven was. That surely wasn't Sabatino's doing. Someone else must have given her the benefit of the doubt.

She scanned the page for individual evaluations, quickly reading over the note that stated: The scores are based on an eight point scale, with one being the lowest performance score and eight being the highest. Two points will be given upon completion of the assigned bookwork–for a maximum score of ten points.

She found her first feedback in the Fundamentals section. Lynch had given her a six, and had mostly complimentary things to say about her. She had expected that, and despite Sabatino's claims of nepotism and family connections now coming back to her, she ignored it. She'd earned that six. Under Diving and Maneuvering, Abreu had given her a seven, which was...that was fantastic. Her feedback seemed encouraging and even gave her praise for some of her riskier attempts. She was urged to continue practicing throughout the course of her final year at school.

In Accuracy, Ahlgren had given her a four, which, while disappointing, was not entirely unexpected. She'd done well enough on day one, but her performance with him after her long night out was abysmal. In Teamwork and Strategy, Wagner had given her a six, which she felt was fair enough. Both of their comments were full of constructive criticism, but she'd have to weed through that later.

Lastly, at the bottom, in an awful script that was barely legible, Sabatino had reported a four. She blinked a few times as she looked at it. Four? Four wasn't a three. He'd point blank said he was giving her a three, but that was clearly a four. An entire extra point better off than he'd promised her. She let that sink in, wondering what could have possibly changed in the hours since she spoke to him.

She quickly scanned down to the bottom, where her performance scores from today's matches had been logged. The algorithm for which they had tabulated her score seemed a little more complicated than what the coaches had logged, but it seemed she'd scored a five out of a possible six.

She grinned ear to ear at that. Five out of six wasn't perfect, but it was pretty close. At the bottom of that page there was quite a bit of maths and score tabulations averaging everything together. She'd achieved a score of five, plus two points for her bookwork, and that had given her a seven. A respectable–albeit, nothing special–seven.

But it could have been so much worse. She felt as if she'd salvaged that seven from the wreckage. It stung a bit knowing that scouts and team representatives tended to gear their attention toward eights and up, but she had an entire year at Hogwarts to get better and show off her skills.

"Ooooh, a seven's good," came Annabelle's voice. She had somehow silently positioned herself to look over Dominique's shoulder, which startled her into folding her paper up. "Way better than me."

"What'd you get?"

"A five," she said, shrugging. "Just enough to keep me out of the bottom. I never actually expect to do much better. I've always been a five. Even when I was at school and back when I still played regularly." She smiled in a reassuring way.

Dominique looked back down at her parchment. "I expected lower. Sabatino had it out for me."

Annabelle rolled her eyes. "He gave me a two. No one in the C group got higher than a two from what I've seen. Didn't even get any feedback, but that's expected at my level. Even if he did have it out for you, there are still so many other factors that make up your ranking. One coach can only do so much damage."

"I see that now," she said, observing as Annabelle took a few steps toward the exit. Her body language was urging Dominique to follow.

"A seven for a Seeker isn't the end of the world," Annabelle continued as she led them out. "They may actually plug you into some top matches tomorrow depending on how the field looks. Now, if you were a Chaser and got a seven, I'd tell you to give it up. There are at least twenty to thirty people out there who have scored eight and above. But with Seekers, you may only have two or three people who scored in the top. We're a smaller group with high standards."

She immediately cheered up at the thought of that. "Is there anyway to know if I got one of the higher scores?"

Annabelle smiled. "How did I know you'd ask? Come on. Follow me." She gestured for her to come along as she led her out and toward the courtyard, adding along the way, "I actually kind of hate when the rankings come out because it essentially defines you for the next two days."

"What do you mean?"

"The top scorers, those nines and tens–not that there are many tens–but they walk around as if they're Merlin's gift to Quidditch. Some would wear their ranking around on a badge if they could. And the higher they're ranked, the more special they get treated. Some of them can get so high and mighty. It's obnoxious. You know how it is."

She nodded, even though she didn't know how it was. "How do people even know what anyone else got?"

"That's where I'm taking you" Annabelle said, quickening her pace across the courtyard and looking as if she was headed toward the Square. "Oh, and just so you know, tonight will be a great time if you feel like going out. The one through fours all have to leave camp by tomorrow, and they go out with an absolute bang. D Dorm will be insane. People are out celebrating their scores–or crying and looking to drink it all away. It's the best night. You should come by."

She didn't respond to that. Now that she'd barely scraped by with a seven, she wasn't sure going out all night before some of her pivotal exhibition matches was a good idea. She'd made that mistake once and was lucky to have a seven to show for it. She was better than that seven and wanted people to know that.

"Stu will be around," Annabelle added. "Though, I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. He said the two of you had a good time, but maybe you didn't."

"We did," she said. "It was a lot of fun." She laughed a little. "More than I expected. But I'm...I don't know if–

"I get it," Annabelle said. "Sometimes it's better to just leave things as they were." She pointed up ahead to where a large, floating board now hovered outside the canteen. "See that?"

Dominique did see it. There were four panels to the board, each labeled by position in ornate lettering. First was Beaters, then Chasers, Keepers, and Seekers. On them were names–everyone's names–and rankings. It was the entire Trial's rankings for everyone to see.

"That's the ranking board," Annabelle said as they came upon it. "It appears as soon as everyone's got theirs. You can check anyone in the whole place. It's why the high and mighty can now look down on the lessers because your business is now everyone's."

She led Dominique down the length of it, stopping in front of the Keeper's board and immediately reading it over. It was five feet long, at least, and floating in place as if suspended by a hovering charm. Underneath the word Keeper was everyone's name positioned alphabetically. There were at least a hundred, with numbers all resting directly beside each name.

"Durrin got a five," Annabelle said, staring up at it. Dominique followed her gaze, where 'Adams, Durrin' was the very first name listed. "He'll be ok with that. He got a six his first year here, so it's a drop, but a five doesn't change much."

Dominique searched the rest of the list for names she recognized. She saw a few familiar names she could remember from Hogwarts, but only really stopped to take in Michael Ellison. He'd also gotten a five. She distinctly remembered Durrin being a better Keeper than Michael ever was, but a year off and nights spent partying probably slowed your skills. Like Annabelle, Durrin seemed more here for the good time than anything real these days.

She walked down to her right, stopping in front of the Seeker board and seeing that new people were appearing to check out the rankings just as she was. As with the Keepers, all the names were positioned in an orderly, alphabetical fashion. She caught her name toward the bottom; a seven staring right back at her, but moved on to the rest of the list to see who'd gotten better than her.

There were several fours and below, though most of the list was composed of fives and sixes. She saw a nine and immediately recognized it belonging to Valentina, the Beauxbatons' invitation. She scanned it to find Jere, the Durmstrang invitation, with an eight by his name. The name Adrien Poe caught her attention, and she wondered whether that was 'Adrien the Awful' from Beauxbatons. The three by his name certainly made her think so.

She let her eyes go to the middle of the board, scanning each letter until she found G. She stopped and stared at Giggleswick's name, where a seven also resided beside it. He'd beaten her out in practice, but her performances that day must have outshined his. They were tied—just as their stats so often were at school. Sabatino's words hung over her at that moment—"He's got the edge on you." It seemed not everyone thought so.

Annabelle had walked down to the Chasers, which was arguably the largest board of the bunch with hundreds of names listed. The print was so much smaller that Annabelle had stepped as close as she could to read it.

"Oh, my friend Toddy got a seven," she said absently once Dominique had wandered over. "He'll be thrilled. He was sitting at six for four years."

Dominique's eyes travelled immediately to the bottom of the list where the very last name, Zabini, Zahara, posted an eight beside it. She'd got an eight and was now elevated to the upper levels of this place; where she probably felt most at home. Oddly enough, Dominique felt no jealousy toward her. She was a great Chaser and deserved it. Her head would probably grow a bit, but she couldn't claim hers wouldn't have had she achieved that kind of score.

"Stu got a five," Annabelle said, pointing her wand in the direction of his name. "He got a six his first year." She shrugged. "That's what happens when life gets in the way and you just don't have the time to practice as much as you'd like. Having the time to play is half the battle."

Dominique was still reading. Ansel Baileymoore got a five. Not surprising. Ellibit Collins also got a five. That seemed generous. She scanned the list for Erin Tanner, and blinked a bit when she saw a seven sitting beside her name. Zara got an eight and Erin got a seven? That didn't seem right, but Erin herself had admitted to not being on top of her game. She could sympathize with that. It would make for an interesting conversation between the two best friends now that they were separated into entirely different skill levels for the next year, despite having always been on par with each other in the past. She wondered how that would play out.

"Anyone else you want to see?" Annabelle asked, looking up and down and noticing that the crowds were turning up to read over the boards.

Dominique looked up at the last and final board, the Beaters. She nodded at Annabelle while attempting to wedge between two people discussing Beater scores and taking up far too much space. "I'd like to see the Beaters quickly."

"Who are we looking for?" Annabelle asked, her eyes now looking up as well.

"Jack. His last name is Ians."

She heard her say, "Ah, of course," in a tone that was almost sing-song. "Can't forget about him."

She wanted to throw her a silencing look, but she instead chose to ignore her and focus on searching the middle of the board for the letter I. She'd just made it to H when Annabelle said, "Well, shit. Good for him."

Dominique attempted to follow her line of sight, but Annabelle had already pointed at the list, having found the name almost dead center on the board. There it was: 'Ians, Jack'—a nine sitting beside it.

"Are you serious?!" Dominique shouted, taking a step closer to make sure she was seeing this correctly. "He got a nine!?"

"He's an elite now," Annabelle said. "Might as well say your goodbyes. He'll forget you exist in a few hours."

Dominique stared at his name, utterly gobsmacked. Jack had gotten a nine? Her Jack? A nine!? A fucking nine?! She knew he was good, but a nine meant that this could actually turn into something. It could be a career. Higher ups in Quidditch were watching him–and if they weren't, they would be now.

"Hey, blondie down in front! Mind stepping back so the rest of us can have a look?" called a voice. Dominique ignored it, instead still marveling at the number nine. It was Annabelle who grabbed her by the shirtsleeve and tugged her off to the side to clear the path for others. Had she not, she might have stood there staring for who knows how long.

"I can't believe he got a nine," she said, now finding herself involuntarily smiling from ear to ear. Was she jealous? Absolutely. Positively. There was no question. But she was also so incredibly happy for him; all she wanted to do was run and find him. She wanted to congratulate him. She wanted to see him.

"That's remarkable," Annabelle said. "He was always nice, so I'm happy for him. Here's hoping he doesn't become one of those big-headed prats who acts as if their shit doesn't stink." She glanced toward the canteen, where people were all filing in to get food after receiving their scores. "Want to get some food?"

"I do, but I need to find Jack. It's just…"

She smirked a little. "I get it. You should be one of the first people to congratulate him."

"I should, shouldn't I?"

"You should. You should talk to him about a few things."

"No," Dominique said, shutting her down immediately. "This isn't about that. It's about him having his moment. Let's not confuse things."

She continued to smirk, but merely shrugged. "Your choice. Just know that nine's tend to get a lot of attention around here." Her expression turned obvious. "From all sorts of well-wishers. But go. Go find him. And if you plan on going out tonight to celebrate, you know where to find me."

She nodded as she took a deep breath and turned away; already giving the crowd a quick once. There was no sign of him going to get food, so she began to double back toward the auditorium, knowing full well that he probably had long left, but perhaps she'd catch him on the way. She didn't even realize until she'd made it over there in record time that she was walking at an incredibly fast pace.

Everywhere she looked, people were pouring in different directions. Some off to get food, others heading back toward the dorms, many sitting around the courtyard and having a chat. She figured that if she couldn't find him by the auditorium, the dorms would be her next guess. She could hang out in the common area until he came through.

"Hey, Weasley," called a voice, and she noticed Ellibit and Michael walking hand in hand in her direction. It was Michael who had spoken up. "How'd you fare?"

"Seven," she said, and even though she was well aware of their scores, she still asked, "And you?"

"Fives for both of us," Michael said as the two passed without stopping. "Well done."

"Thanks," she said, feeling a little more comfortable in her score with every passing second. Sure, it wasn't a bloody nine, but a seven wasn't anything to be upset by. Not when there were people going home for far less. "You two haven't seen Jack, have you?"

"He was outside the dorms talking to some people a few minutes ago," Ellibit called behind her, both still walking toward the center of camp. "I'd assume he's still there."

Dominique looked up the path, taking to it and working against a current of bodies all passing by her in the opposite direction. It seemed everyone was headed to get something to eat or assemble in the Square to talk, and here she was headed against them; dodging people from knocking into her. She jogged for a bit, swerving and avoiding people before finally reaching the path that led directly to Dorm A. Someone had propped the door open with a stone and she passed through into an immediately crowded common area.

It shouldn't have surprised her that her dorm would be the one with the most action, considering most of its residents were either receiving scores for the first time or celebrating the ones they'd received as returning invitations. The room was filled with laughter and smiles. There was a celebratory vibe radiating from within, despite a few angry faces and some tears. As she stood searching the room for Jack, she heard someone slam something into a wall, followed by a loud crash. When she turned to look, Tree Trunks looked irate. His friend–his Beating partner from the match earlier–looked to be talking him off a ledge along with a small group of others.

"Heard he didn't do his bookwork," said a familiar voice, and when she turned, Giggleswick was standing there, watching the display as well. "Got an eight. Had he done the work–"

"He would have gotten a perfect score," Dominique muttered.

Giggleswick shrugged. "Personally, I'm happy to see it. Fucker nearly broke my back. They gave me potions for the pain. And let me tell you, the shit they give you here is better than what they give you at Hogwarts." He blinked a few times in a very spaced out sort of way.

Well, that explained why he was talking to her. He was probably too loopy to realize that they didn't normally chat.

He looked back at her. "I got a seven. I played like shit today and only got two of my four Snitches."

"I played really well today, but I got a seven as well."

"Yeah, well you fucked up in practice."

"I did."

There were no congratulations or well wishes or much else to say on the matter. They both just silently stood there as their attentions remained on Tree Trunks across the room who was now rambling and yelling something about "fucking paperwork."

"Always the bloody same," Giggleswick finally muttered, walking away without another word. She watched him go, feeling as if that had been–without question–the most pleasant conversation the two of them had ever had. It only took multiple pain killing potions and a potential broken back to get there after six years. She laughed a little, thinking how strange this place was. It almost wasn't real how different things were around here.

She walked a little further inside, past Tree Trunks, and watched people for any signs of Jack. She was close enough to her room now that she may as well run in to change; she made her way to the corridor only to find people crowding it as well. She could barely move in this place as she made her way down the hallway, suddenly running into Erin who was headed in the opposite direction.

"Good score?" Erin asked.

"Seven."

"Same."

"Have you seen Jack?"

Erin pointed behind her, back down toward where their rooms would have been. "In his room last I saw. Did you hear what he got?"

"Yeah, I did. What a prat." She smiled as she spoke, the crowd now thinning out a bit as she finally made it down toward her room, where a boy roughly her age was standing just outside. He looked like a Beater–it was as if a plague of Beaters had infested this place—and was talking to someone just inside the room. Given that no one else should be inside her room other than Jack, she sure as hell hoped it was him.

The boy outside of her room turned and acknowledged her first, noticing that she was fast approaching where he was standing. He smiled at her immediately, as if he was suddenly pleasantly surprised by the new visitor. "Well, hello."

She stopped in front of him. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm the person whose room this is," she said, pointing to the open door. "So...move."

In that very next second, Jack's head poked around the doorframe from the inside, his expression happy to see her. He'd immediately started grinning. "Nic! You'll never–"

"You got a bloody nine!" she screamed, her giant grin from earlier returning as she pushed past the random stranger standing there. Then, out of nowhere, she did something that even surprised her–she threw her arms around Jack's neck and hugged him. It had been an instinctual move–one that was completely out of character for her– so much so that Jack was taken aback, both literally and figuratively. She actually knocked him back off his feet, forcing him to topple somewhat backward and let his bed break his fall.

He was dirty and smelled like he'd been out in the sun on a broom all day and it was honestly everything she could have asked for someone to smell like. It took her a moment–now that she was lying on top of him–to realize that her reaction may have been a bit much. She awkwardly let her eyes meet his, though he just smiled and said. "Hi there."

She had thought of a handful of things to say to him on the way over, a bunch of ways to congratulate him, but all that came out now that she was here was, "I hate you so much."

He continued to grin, though she noticed he wasn't exactly struggling to get her off. It wasn't until she realized that she'd been lying on top of him for what was an unnecessarily long amount of time that she pulled herself up. The random bloke from before was still standing in the corridor watching them. He smiled. "Hi, I'm Diego."

"Yeah, sorry," Jack said, now sitting up. "That's Diego. He and I have been working together this week. He got a nine, too. Diego, this is Nic–er, Dominique."

He reached out to shake Dominique's hand. "Nice to meet you." He looked back at Jack. "You never mentioned you have a girlfriend."

"We're just friends," the both said in a mixed unison.

Diego's face perked up at that, his smile growing a little wider. "Oh, well, in that case–Hi, I'm Diego. You're very pretty."

She made a face before immediately turning that look onto Jack. He needed to collect his friend or else she would. She was not in the mood.

"Alright," he said, shrugging it all off with a quick, "I'm going to have a chat with her now, so we'll catch up later." He stood to put his hand on the door, looking as if he were about to shut it.

"Ok, but don't forget about the meeting in an hour," Diego managed to get in before Jack shut the door on him.

"What is with your kind?" she asked, shaking her head. "Why are Beaters all the same?"

"It's because most are morons," he said as he sat back down on his bed and began searching through a stack of paperwork that had been placed there. "It's as if the second they see a beautiful girl, what little brain they have shuts down and they can't focus."

She watched him as he absently started flipped page after page over, clearly looking for something in particular. He hadn't even realized what he'd just said; it had just come out of him so nonchalantly. She'd caught it though and was now obsessively focusing on the fact that he'd used the word beautiful in reference to her.

"He's an amazing Beater, though," he added, now smiling at her as he set his papers aside after finding the one he'd been looking for. "Alright, let's hear it."

"Hear what?"

"What'd you get?"

She blinked. "Who cares what I got? You got a nine."

"I care," he said, though his expression turned curious. "Wait, how did you even find out my ranking?"

"There's a giant board with everyone's scores on it down in the Square. Everyone's rankings are everyone else's business."

"Oh, that seems…" He trailed off, clearly not amused by that idea. "So, are you going to tell me yours or make me walk down there to see it?"

She hesitated. She'd much rather focus on his amazing score than her slightly above average one. It didn't seem particularly impressive when faced with his. "Seven."

His face lit up. "Seven's fantastic! You thought you were getting a five."

She shrugged. "I guess Sabatino's scores could only do so much damage."

"Or he's an idiot and everyone else can see that you're an amazing Seeker."

"Amazing would have scored me a nine," she said, throwing him a lazy smile. "Seriously Jack, when did you get so good? I mean, I knew you were good, but this…" She shook her head in disbelief. "You're getting an invitation back next year. You're in the best possible position right now."

His humble nature was evidently taking over because he shrugged and averted his eyes to the pile of parchment again. He didn't seem to know what to say to that. "Yeah, but I have a whole season to fuck it up." He smiled as if that was a lame attempt at a joke, but she didn't bite.

"You won't. You played this well against people as good as you are. Back at Hogwarts, who can even touch you?"

He took a deep breath, looking a little awkward under her gaze. "I guess we'll be having more scouts than normal out at school now. That's good for you, too. They'll see you in action as well."

She mustered a smile. It was true. Even without the high score, scouts would make an appearance to scope out potential talent. With Jack being ranked as high as he was, specific scouts were now going to be frequently turning up to watch him and keep tabs on him. Perhaps she could make that work for her as well.

"I've got meetings with them," he said, reaching over to grab at the pile of parchment. "They want to talk to me tonight. There are more set up for after my matches tomorrow. They're from teams all across the continent. I have no idea what they're going to ask me."

"Sounds like they're vetting you," she said, taking the top sheet of parchment off the stack and glancing it over–though barely reading it before handing it back. "They're already starting to try and woo you to consider their teams."

He laughed a little. "I can't be thinking about that. I've got another year of school. I've got N.E.W.T.s to worry about."

She smiled a little sadly. Not because she was sad, but because for the first time since hearing his news, she was truly envious of his situation. "Maybe you can worry a little less about them now."

"Don't put that in my head," he mumbled. "I'm one injury or suspension or shitty season away from none of this mattering and leaving me in the dust."

She nodded. "No, you're right. I'm getting ahead of myself." She forced herself to cheer up. "But we really should celebrate. You got a nine."

"Yeah, we absolutely should," he said. "But I think I'm pretty booked up tonight. They told me to go shower and change, get something to eat, and be back there by 6:30. I get the impression it might be awhile."

"Ok. Tomorrow then. Or whenever you're free. I know you're at an elite level now, but here's hoping you don't forget about us little people down here."

He rolled his eyes. "Stop that."

"The ones that helped you get to where you are," she joked. "The people who have always had your back."

"Nic, I couldn't forget about you if I tried. And there have been times I've tried."

She smiled. "Good. That means I've done something right."