Scorpius POV
I yawn and clamber out of my four-poster bed. "Quidditch today, mate," I say, throwing a pillow at Albus's head. He groans.
"Rose is never gonna let me in after last year," he says.
"Nah, you were fine," I say.
"Dude, we lost to Slytherin because of me," Al moans.
"We still won the Quidditch Cup," I say. "Don't worry about it, mate, it'll be fine."
"Meh," is all Al says.
We quickly change into something more suitable for Quidditch.
"She's gonna find some better Seeker, I know it," Al mumbles as we walk down to breakfast. "She's gonna replace us all."
"Shut up, mate," Frank says as we sit down next to him. "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do," Al moans. This is what I have to put up with on a daily basis.
Al moans some more about how awful he is when Weasley and Alice show up.
"Al. Frank. Malfoy," Weasley says, yawning. "Ready for tryouts?"
"No," Al grumbles. But he eats his breakfast without much more mention of it. I try not to notice Wealsey's gorgeous red hair or her deep, brown eyes-but it's no use. As soon as Dad pointed her out at Platform 9¾ beginning of first year, I knew I was a goner.
Alice and Weasley head down to the pitch together because Weasley needs to set something up. Al, Frank and I head down a few minutes later.
Alice is already in the stands, cheering and waving a Gryffindor banner.
"What are you doing?" her brother yells. Annoyed at her, per the usual. "It's not a game!"
"I know!" she screams back. "But it's still house pride!"
Frank sighs. We're all used to Alice's peppiness by now.
"Oi, you lot!" Weasley yells. "Split up into groups for what you're trying out for! We need a Beater, a Keeper, a Seeker, and three Chasers!"
Everyone splits up into their groups. Frank joins the Keepers, Al the Seekers. I go to the Beaters, of course, swinging my bat and my broom over my shoulder. Doubt crosses my mind as it did Al's: what if I don't make it?
Rose POV
"Chasers first!" I yell. Chasers are by far the largest group I need, two of them graduated last year. Alison Finnigan is still here, she's in my year. A few people surprise me; my cousin James is here for the first time; said he had no interest in being on the House team. Several of my other cousins are as well, including Lily and of course Al. Even Hugo is here, but he's in the stands. He claims he doesn't want to play.
The Chasers go by far the fastest, even though we need the most. James Potter(surprisingly), Alison Finnigan(not surprisingly), and a new find called Chelsea Robins, a fourth year. Apparently her mother played Chaser for Gryffindor as well.
Then the Keepers. I'm very pleased to say that Frank gets the position, he saved ten out of ten goals put on him by Alison. The second closest only got eight out of ten.
Seekers doesn't take much long either, all Al's worrying went down the drain. Of course he got in, he caught the Snitch in about five minutes. Everyone says he's as good as Uncle Harry.
It's Beaters that take the longest, even though there aren't as many people as the other groups. But the competition comes very close between Malfoy and that idiot Cait McLaggen. Then I take out my new machine.
The idea was inspired by Grandpa Arthur's obsession with muggle things. Mum told me all about "guns", which are a kind of weapon muggles use to kill each other with. She also told me about "targets"-and it gave me an excellent idea. I bewitched twelve targets to move around the Quidditch pitch as if on brooms, six marked with red, six with gold. Malfoy was gold, Cait was red, and they had to aim the Bludgers at the other team. Each target hit was a point, hit your own team and a point was deducted. Whoever had the most points after five minutes won.
Well, four and a half minutes up and it's tied, 17-17. 0:30 left on the clock. 0:25. 0:20. 0:15. Cait hits one of her own teammates. So does Malfoy. 0:10. 9. 8. 7. 6. Then Malfoy whacks a Bludger at just the right angle, and it bounces off all six of the targets marked in red. The buzzer sounds. Final score: 22-16. Malfoy got the job, again. I can't say I'm not pleased, he's much better than Cait.
Of course, just like her father, as soon as Cait lands she's right up in my face.
"Give me another go," she says immediately.
"No," I respond. "You had your go, you lost. Malfoy beat you fair and square. He won. Again. Like always."
"Exactly. Like always. So give me another go."
"No. Go away before I hex you," I say, pulling out my wand. She glares at me one last time and slinks away, gritting her teeth, broom thrown over her shoulder.
I turn back to my friends; it's wonderful. A team of people I like.
"Thank, Weasley," Malfoy says. "Did you jinx it to line up perfectly for me?"
"No," I say truthfully. "Alice did."
He smirks and calls to Alice, who is standing by Frank. "Thanks, Longbottom!" he yells. She sticks her tongue out at him.
"First game!" Al calls, running over. "Us against Slytherin, Halloween!"
"Oh, boy," I say. "Slytherin?"
"That's right," a voice drawls. I whirl around. Nott.
"And I'm playing Beater against the blood traitor and the idiot," Nott smirks.
"Get out of here before I curse you, you filthy-" Al lays a hand on my arm.
"Don't," he warns.
"That's right," I say. "You have detention until Christmas, don't you? How are you playing Beater?"
"I pulled some strings," he grins. Then he stalks off with his cronies, Jonathan Goyle and Maxim Warren.
"I may not have to wait until Halloween to pulverize him," Malfoy mutters, and I laugh. He looks pleased with himself for a second, then resumes his normal scowl.
"Halloween can't come soon enough," I say.
~oOo~
Halloween.
Day of the match against Slytherin.
Albus receives many catcalls from the Slytherin table, who are all sporting green and waving small, serpent-shaped flags. Since they last time we played Slytherin, their Beaters gave up on the Bludgers and hit Al at the same time with their bats. In the head. Knocking him unconscious and costing us the match. We still won the Quidditch Cup, of course, because they only won by ten and we crushed Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
The team quickly heads down to the locker rooms, changes into our scarlet and gold Quidditch robes, and settles down to hear my pre-game pep talk.
"Okay, guys," I say, gulping. "The Slytherin team is a load of cheating scum, so ignore them and avoid whatever they throw at you, and just remember we haven't had a better team in years."
"Very inspirational, Weasley," Malfoy says sarcastically.
I sigh. "Budge up, you lot, and win or no party in the common room."
That gets everyone's attention.
"If we lose, could we have a pity party?" my cousin James asks.
"No," I say firmly. "Maybe that will encourage you to win."
It does. We head out, Liana Jordan, daughter of the famous Quidditch commentator Lee Jordan, screams our names.
"Finnigan, Robins, Potter, Longbottom, Malfoy, Weasley, aaaand Potter!"
Three-quarters of the stadium cheers, decked out in gold and red. The section of Slytherins boo until their team is announced.
"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch says. Yes, she's still refereeing after years of service, although she's hired trustworthy students to help her.
I shake hands with the giant Slytherin Captain, Devin Flint, a seventh year.
Madam Hooch blows the whistle and releases the balls. I swing my leg over my Firebolt 200 and take off, bat clutched tightly in one hand. Liana keeps up a running commentary throughout the entire game.
"And it's Robins with the ball, Robins flying to the goals, nice pass to Finnigan, Finnigan shoots-SHE SCORES!" The stadium bursts into applause.
This keeps up for another half an hour, Gryffindor leading 80-40. Slytherin has had several shots on Frank, but he's held up well so far.
"Doing alright, Weasley?" Malfoy twists his broom so he's a few feet away from me.
"So far," I say, grimacing. Nott, who did end up playing Beater, aims a Bludger at me. I easily hit it away towards a Slytherin Chaser, knocking him off his broom.
"When d'you think they'll start after Al?" Malfoy asks.
"Now," I say, grimacing again. We both take off after Albus as both Bludgers are aimed his way. I hit one, Malfoy the other, not checking where we're aiming. Al looks like he's about to be sick.
"Hang in there, bro!" James calls as he zooms by, going in for the Quaffle.
We score twice, Slytherin once. Malfoy and I circle around Albus protectively.
"Guys," he says. "Someone go cover Frank!"
He's right, Nott's begun aiming for Frank instead of us. Malfoy stays with Al, and I circle around slightly above the goal hoops, only having to interfere once in awhile.
Then Albus streaks to the ground, but the Slytherin Seeker knocks him out of the way. Alison Finnigan takes the penalty. 110-50.
"Rose!" Frank yells as the Chasers battle for the Quaffle in the middle of the pitch. Frank is pointing up frantically. Nott is going straight for Malfoy, who is looking the other way. I can only watch in horror as Nott slams into Malfoy and then quickly flies the other way, and no one but Frank and I see it happen. Malfoy is knocked off his broom and goes into free-fall. The broom shuts down-a new feature of the Firebolt 200-and falls to the ground. I have no choice but to swoop under Malfoy, and I just barely catch his hand. I swing him up onto the back of my broom.
"Thanks, Weasley," he pants, clutching my waist.
"Hands off or I throw you off the broom," I inform him. He removes his hand and clutches the side of the broom instead. I quickly land and allow him to dismount, and then take off again, pausing once to make sure he's regained his feet.
I barely have time to duck when the Bludger nearly hits me in the face. It flies straight past me-and right into the Slytherin Seeker, who's currently in a race with Al for the Snitch. Al pulls ahead-and the Snitch is his.
And then Alison Finnigan and Chelsea Robins and are hugging me, and then there's Al and James and Frank and Malfoy, and we sink to the ground, laughing and cheering.
Final score: 260-50. We all go to the Halloween feast, of course, and it's amazingly delicious. But the party in the common room lasts until one in the morning, when Professor Mulberry comes to shut us up. Everyone reluctantly trudges up to bed after that-but we all have to admit, it was a great day.