Nothing eventful happened until Saturday, the day of Quidditch tryouts. By then, Remus was back, and brought the news that he mother was starting to recover. James had managed to borrow one of the school's brooms, which he thought was absolutely terrible. "It crawls like a snail," he said over and over before the tryouts, but it was the only thing that could get him on the team.

The morning of tryouts dawned crisp and bright, leaves shining like gold on the trees. By 10:00, the Quidditch Pitch was packed with people, both watching and trying out. "Think I can make it?" James asked nervously as he faced the pitch.

"You'll do well, don't worry," Remus told him, sharing a slab of chocolate around.

"It this to boost my confidence?" asked James.

"Technically, chocolate is one of the few foods scientifically proven to make you happy," Peter responded.

"How do you know that?" Sirius questioned him and turned to James. "How does he know that and I don't?"

"Oi! People who are trying out, over here! Everyone else, clear off the field," the Captain yelled.

"Bye," James told the group nervously and made his way toward the Captain, in the center of the pitch.

"Ok," the Captain said to the twenty people scattered around him, "My name's Elias Worthington, I'm Gryffindor's captain. To start, we'll be flying across the field. Just a few laps, so that I can test your abilities with flying and acceleration, which are essential in Quidditch. When you hear my whistle once, speed up. Twice, slow down. Just head in circles," Worthington looked around, holding up his whistle. After setting it down, he pulled out a notebook and Quill. "Just taking some notes," He explained. "Ready? Ok, go!" The group hastily mounted their brooms and took off.

"Which way?" a brown haired girl asked, as some people were circling right, others left.

"To the right!" Worthington yelled. "Counter clockwise!" Again, the flying resumed, everyone now going the same way. Within a minute, the shrill chirp of a whistle pierced the air, and half of the group accelerated. It took the other half of the group a moment to figure out they had to speed up, but almost immediately the whistle was blown twice. As one, the group slowed. This exercise was continued for a few minutes, in which several students were grounded due to ramming into others. When the first exercise was over, there were roughly fourteen that had not been cut.

"Now, we're going to practice throwing and catching the Quaffle. We'll start on the ground, but then we can go up in the air a bit." Warrington pulled a Quaffle (a red, soccer-sized ball) out of a case and tossed it to James. James caught it quickly, passing it to the girl behind him. She passed it to Frank Longbottom, who then passed it to a first year in the corner, who dropped it. When the ball had been recovered, it was tossed around a few more times, before everyone mounted a broom.

"Same thing up here?" Frank asked nervously as he rose up into the air.

"Yep. Try not to fall- it doesn't feel good." The ball was again passed around. The first year fell off his broom and was ushered away, as was Frank, who had fumbled the Quaffle. Another five minutes of passing passed and there were nine people left.

"For the last exercise, those of you auditioning for chaser, work together, pass the ball, and try to make a goal. Those of you for keeper, I want you to take a hoop. We should have six hoops, so assuming you aren't all hoping to be keeper, we should be alright," Worthington informed the group. Five people sped off to the hoops, the rest stayed by the captain. "Alright. Remember to pass to each other. Any hoop works." He passed the ball to James, who with the other three chasers, sped down the pitch as fast as their brooms could go. James's, however, would not go as fast as he liked.

"Stupid broom!" James moaned as he tossed the Quaffle to the kid next to him. "Why a Silver Arrow?"

"At least it's not any older than that," the red haired boy next to him replied. The group of chasers raced to the hoops, passing the ball around. After catching the Quaffle, the red haired boy chucked it at the nearest hoop. Right in the nick of time, the girl guarding the hoop slammed it out of the air, smirking gleefully as the group made to dive for it. This process was repeated a few times with each member of the group before James feigned right, but at the last minute tossed it left, catching the keeper by surprise. The Quaffle soared through the hoop, landing in the sand pit below. "Nice one," the redhead said, nodding.

"Thanks," James replied, grinning.

"Great job today, guys. I'm glad you came to try out. I'll post your name on the notice board if you make it," Worthington informed the team when they had finished tryouts a half hour later. "Well, that's it. Have a great day." As James locked the school broom in the shed he had borrowed it from, Sirius, Remus, and Peter walked up.

"Nice job," Peter told him.

"Yeah, you had some great goals," Sirius added.

"Based off of what the captain wrote down, I betting its either you or the redhead, Jerry," Remus nodded.

"Thanks- but how did you figure out what Worthington was writing?" James asked him as they walked up to the castle for lunch.

"Binoculars," he replied, holding them up.

"What are binoculars?" Sirius asked.

"Nevermind. They're a muggle tool that you use to see far away things."

"Oh. Those." Lunch was eaten quickly, then the group headed to the library to finish their homework. However, when Sirius pulled out a roll he had nicked from earlier, they were shooed out.

"No food in the library!" Madam Prince cried, looking scandalized. The group then trudged up to Gryffindor Tower. As James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter climbed through the portrait, Miles ran up to James and high fived him.

"Nice job, James. You're gonna be brilliant if Worthington liked you. He's got high standards," Miles said, then ran off.

"I made the team?" James asked blankly, running over to the notice board. His eyes scanned the board, quick as lightning. Within a minute, he had turned around grinning.

"Brilliant!" Peter cheered.

"Maybe McGonagall will let me do the comontary this year," Sirius reasoned, high fiving James.

"Told you," Remus grinned at him. "Nice one."

"Practice is on Wednesday at five," James read, still smiling. "I can't wait."