It took nearly a week for Rose to get back into the swing of things. Classes were noticeably more difficult. Defense Against the Dark Arts for one, Dalbert had been teaching the first-year students spells that were normally held until the third year This year, he had put away the wands and had begun teaching them about magical beasts. Elvy Balimp, a second-year Gryffindor, had claimed that this change in teaching tactics was because Dalbert had been on vacation in the Amazon and was attacked by several magical beasts including a Lethifold which had nearly killed him. These claims held little water except for the peculiar burn marks around his neck which he refused to divulge. But he had begun warning them against magical creatures and had even brought in live specimens that if were dangerous to hold, he would stun and allow their frozen bodies to be passed around the room. Everyone enjoyed this approach on the dangerous creatures, everyone except for Max. He was disturbed when holding its motionless body as its eyes spun around in its head to figure out what was going on or why it couldn't move. He felt sorry for the beast and Rose had, at one point when passing around a Kappa, taken his wand to keep him from unfreezing the poor thing.

She knew Max loved animals. After he arrived back to the library from detention in the owlery for one, he was covered head to foot in owl dropping, but still looking as satisfied as ever, excitedly telling Rose as she covered her nose due to the smell, about how the owls had thanked him by nuzzling his face. Scorpius, who had come to the library to ask Al for the password to the Slytherin common room, did not look pleased, nor appreciative toward the owl's gratitude. He was heaving with anger, looking and smelling worse than Max, having slipped many times. He stormed from the room as Al laughed and was cursing owls, birds, anything with wings and creature life, at the same time, pulled handfuls of feathers from his robes, hair, pants, and mouth.

Rose wasn't offended, but Hugo rarely hung out with her and Max. they nearly never got to see each other outside of the common room. After hours when they were chilling or catching up on homework, she would try to talk to him, ask him about how his year is going, but he would always seem too preoccupied to give her much attention. He had finally made a guy friend, Obadiah Mosiah, an Arabic boy with shaggy black hair and always eager eyes. They were always busy, not just around Rose. Hugo had started a muggle club with Obadiah, the three pretty girls, Elvy, and Calvert so far. They would scrounge up and order muggle items and have deep discussions about what they are, and what purpose they serve in a corner of the common room at a small table with the most bizarre assortment of items cluttering the area. Louis was a different story all together. He had developed a friendship with Abercrombie Boot and was never seen without his camera. A first year Ravenclaw girl by the name of Olly Garner, Cian Garner's younger sister, was often seen with the two boys and always had her nose stuck in a book as Louis used his school books to prop his feet on while editing photos. He was, in all honesty… cool. By comparison to the rest of the family, and thought as such by the rest of his house.

"Weasley!" Seven heads in the great hall looked up as Enoc Hubert came striding up to the Gryffindor table and looked for a mane of curly red hair amongst the many Weasleys. "Uh, that Weasley," he emphasized, pointing to Rose.

Rose looked up from her French toast confusedly as Enoc's sweaty form pressed closer with a look of frustration on his face.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you at tryouts? You're not bailing on the team, are you?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "Why are we having tryouts? This is the best team we've had in a decade!"

"We're not allowed to cancel tryouts anymore. Something about it not being fair for the students who want a shot. Come on! We're about to try for chasers!"

Rose scrambled over Max, forgetting that she could step out from the bench, causing him to spill his cereal on his lap. She ran from the hall, Enoc right beside her. She felt so stupid for thinking that they would keep the same team, especially after Rocky's lecture last year about how that was not okay.

"Have they had beaters tryouts yet?" she asked, becoming slowly out of breath.

"No," Enoc replied. "Beaters are always last, too many injuries."

"Good," she breathed.

"You're not thinking about trying out for that position, are you?" he asked.

"I wanted that position last year," she replied, not liking the tone in his voice. "You better believe I'm giving it a shot this year."

Enoc didn't say anything. "What? You don't think I can?" she asked crossly.

"If you get the position, then either I or Ishmael can't be on the team."

Rose hadn't thought about that; she had been so determined to make it that she hadn't taken into consideration that the position belonged to two of her friends. And the hesitation in his voice made her feel sorry.

"Can't you try for chaser? Or seeker?" Enoc stopped and grabbed her arm.

"Do I look like a seeker to you?" True, he had a thick torso, rather large biceps and even a slightly burly face, every trait a beater is expected to have. He now sounded angry.

"I'll try for both," she shrugged. "If it's true that I'm a better chaser, then I'll get that spot."

"If you ask me, you're a little small to be a beater," he said casually and without looking at her. They were now exiting the castle and stepping onto the warm dry ground of outside.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked with a sideways glance at him.

"Well," he started unconcernedly. "you're a little short to be a beater, your arms aren't thick enough, you're slightly too skinny to be able to withstand bludger attacks, and well… you're a girl."

Rose scowled up at him; he was much taller than she was. She scowled at her own feet as she navigated her way over stumps and rocks. She'd show him, never tell Rose Weasley what she can't do… she'll prove you wrong in an utmost way. Making their way onto the Quidditch field, she found that the stands were crowded with students much bigger and stronger than she was. Rocky was directing students onto brooms as she made her way to the crowd.

"Weasley!" She turned when her name was called and saw Rocky beckoning her over. "Thank God, chaser's about to start, why aren't you in your Quidditch robes? Oh, never mind, hop on your broom."

She had the decision to make and she had three seconds to make it. She took a deep breath. "I'm not trying for chaser," she said with her head up high.

"What?" he barked. "Rose, what do you mean you're not trying for this team?" he lowered his voice and drew closer. "We need you on this team, just look at this lot." The crowd before her who were straddling brooms and waiting for Rocky's say so to take to the sky did look a little scrawny, a little unnatural.

"I'm trying out," she tried. "For beater."

Rocky snorted in an unamused way. "You're not serious."

Rose raised her eyebrows at him.

Rocky wiped the sweat from his upper lip, took her by the arm and drug her quite roughly toward a smaller crowd in the stands. "You see them?" he asked pointing to several very large, burly, strong, Gryffindor males who much resembled bears. "You're competing against them," he growled. "Now come to your senses. It won't happen."

"You said that I did well and could try for beater next year, last year," she huffed, he wasn't making this decision any easier for her.

"I wasn't really watching," he rolled his eyes. "I have a time limit, I can almost guarantee a spot for you as a chaser, but it'll be as unlikely as Filtch collapsing dead in the morning if you try for a beater, what'll it be?

"I gave you my answer!" she said.

"…Okay…okay," he huffed, running his fingers through his wet brown hair and turning to leave. He seemed to change his mind last minute because he spun around real fast to speak to her face. "Just know that without you, we have little to no chance of winning the cup this year." And he spun back around and stomped toward the now scared looking chaser tryouts as Rocky barreled toward them.

Rose glanced at Enoc who whispered something to Ishmael and they both looked at her with disappointment and pity. She looked toward to stands where Max had just sat and saw how small he looked next to the possible beaters and knew that she was almost a head shorter than him. Rose made her way to the stands and sat between two huge guys, thinking that she may have made the wrong choice. Her stomach turned thinking about not being on the team this year. That would be terrible! No more five o'clock practices, no more breakfast boys, no more picnics in the stands, no more Gryffindor victory parties in partly her honor. She glanced at Max who looked from the chasers taking to the sky and back down to her, seemingly confused. After catching on, Rose looked away before she could see his disappointed face that she knew was looking down at her right now. She took her hair and covered her face as she felt many eyes staring down at her.

It seemed like no time, but a whistle blew and she heard Rocky's frustrated voice call for the beaters. She stood up too quickly and tried to pace herself. One of the guys next to her snorted.

"I thought she was a joke. You're not really going to play against us are you, princess?" he said in a deep gruff voice.

"Go put your nose back in a book where it belongs, cupcake!" said his friend.

Rose would have lashed out, but she was too terrified now to do anything.

"What're you laughing about?" asked one of the other guys.

"Strawberry shortcake over here is gonna try'n show us novices how to beat!" the first boy said, grabbing a lock of her hair and tugging on it.

"Shut your traps!" called Rocky. "Real impression to give the captain, picking on a second-year girl with more balls than the all of you combined! Mount your brooms and I don't want to hear another peep. When I blow the whistle, you take to the sky and knock each other off their brooms last two in the air wins the spot!"

"You act as though she's got a chance, Pax," called one of the boys.

"You wait," she heard Rocky mumble.

His words lit a fire in her heart and for some bizarre reason, she thought that she had as good a chance as any of these brutes.

Ishmael and Enoc had just stepped forward from the other side of the pitch and mounted their brooms.

"No hard feelings as you're falling to the ground, alright?" one of them said. "You never had a chance anyway."

Ishmael glared at the guy as Rose felt a rush of rage just before Rocky blew his whistle. The small crowd took to the sky and with a beaters bat in hand, she readied for Rocky to release the bludgers. Rather than two, eight of them were released at once, and the audition began. Within seconds, the last guy that had insulted her was hit in the stomach by Ishmaels' bludger and he glided to the ground. Once, twice, she had to dodge bludgers that were aimed at her. She spun in the air as it seemed all the other guys were trying to take out the weak link first. One good thing about if Rose became a beater is that she takes everything way too personally. She swung that bat toward the bludger imagining that in was the head of the male that called her princess and it zoomed off in the opposite direction and hit Mr. Princess in the head. She grinned at her success and again and again, swung the bat around, not even paying attention to whether she was hitting anyone. It was clear when looking around that the air had thinned dramatically, and it was up to her and whoever was probably behind her. She swung that bat as all eight bludgers seemed to focus their attention on her. That wasn't right, bludgers were supposed to hit as many players off their broom as they could, but here they were, eight of them, flying at her again and again as she continued to hit them away, running out of breath and her arm getting sore. Panting, she noticed eight people on brooms flying to the air to catch one of the eight bludgers. Rose took a breath as she realized that the rock-like balls were no longer trying to kill her, and looked around to see who she was still fighting. To her surprise, nobody else was in the air. A faint whistling was heard from far below and she sped to the ground as Rocky's blurry form came into focus. He was red and sweaty with a wide grin that spread across his face.

"Who won?" she asked stupidly and out of breath.

"You did, you daft cow!" Rocky laughed, grabbing her in a bear hug.

"That doesn't count!" Mr. princess came striding forward and Rocky released Rose with an annoyed expression. "That wanker was defending her!" he yelled, pointing toward Ishmael who was nursing a nasty looking bruise on his shoulder. Ishmael shrugged with a concealed smile.

"That wasn't against the rules," said Rocky irritably. "Strategy and teamwork is essential for a beater; I'm surprised you didn't team up with your buddies."

"That wasn't listed among our options!"

"I didn't give you any options, you idiot! I didn't give you any rules at all. Really, I didn't even say you had to use your bats."

"I demand a re-do!" he called, his face turning red.

"Who gave you the authority to demand anything, huh?" asked Rocky, drawing closer in a venomous tone. "Who are you to demand anything from me?"

She boy swallowed and looked apprehensive and not as brave as he backed up slightly. "My mother is the captain of the-" he started but was cut off by Rocky.

"Don't you think it's time you put your big boy pants on and stop using your mommy card?" he spat.

The boy swelled with anger, then finding that he couldn't win with Rocky, turned to Rose. "You cheated!"

"What'd I do?" she asked indignity.

"You… you… dodged the whole time, didn't even use the bat! Some brave beater you are! Hiding under the protection of Stewart!"

Rose swelled herself. "You're just embarrassed that a second-year girl beat you!" she called, then a smirk spread across her face. "But no hard feelings, you never had a chance anyway, cupcake."

Something like a growl escaped from his mouth and he lunged toward her as if to harm her. Rose, with the bat still in her hand, swung it around to block him. The wooden bat had a date with his jaw as a sickening crunch echoed around and he fell to the ground. The new team, which consisted of every member of the old team except instead of being a beater, Ishmael Stewart was now a chaser (they were the obvious best), leaned over the swelling face.

"Let's hope he wasn't leaning in for an apologetic hug," said Isaac Fisher.