Sadly, the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts were at an undisclosed time and only a select few were told about it. Among them was Draco Malfoy. Apparently his father's bribe had come through; for he would tell anyone he could at the breakfast table that he was the new Slytherin Seeker.
Harold seemed quite apathetic to this news; in fact, Harold seemed quite apathetic about everything. Maurice rarely saw him, apart from classes. While Maurice and Roger would sit in the common room and talk with Jack, Draco, and the minions for a while (with Blaise and Theodore occasionally joining them), Harold went straight up to bed, and was asleep by the time they got up.
Maurice was pretty sure the only reason he was still conscious was because of sugar and naps during boring classes. Roger seemed to need no sleep, as he was almost exactly the same as when he got to Hogwarts about a week or so ago. Thankfully, it was the weekend, and today they could do whatever they wanted.
They should probably do some homework… nah, they could do that tomorrow. Slytherins had the Quidditch pitch today – Maurice had seen Marcus Flint, a boy that looked like he'd been hit in the face with a bludger more than recommended, waving around a piece of paper and crowing to his friends that 'Wood will be pissed!' – so maybe they could watch the practice. He mentioned the idea to Jack, who was looking sullen and picking at his bacon.
Jack brightened instantly. "I'd love to see the face on Roemers' face when he sees that we've got the pitch!" he hissed. "I heard he's become a new chaser. Spinnet quit the team for some reason or another."
"Who is this mysterious 'Roemers' you keep speaking of?" Maurice asked. Jack narrowed his eyes.
"Ralph Roemers is only the most irritatingly perfect person in the universe," he said. "He's in Gryffindor, of course, he's totally the stereotypical Gryffindor. See him? He's just over there… the blond one."
Maurice strained his eyes and could make out two blond Gryffindors, one talking in a very loud, very fast Irish accent. "Which one?" he asked.
"Not the Irish half-blood; he's the other, handsomer one," Jack said. Maurice nodded slowly, and before he could say anything more, Roger got up from the table, his cup in his hands. "What are you doing?"
"You hate him, don't you?" Roger asked. Jack bit his lip and nodded. A hint of a smirk passed over Roger's face, and the short Slytherin moved through the Great Hall quickly, passing the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables without a second glance. Soon, all of the Slytherin first and second years were watching as he flitted through the crowed, eventually coming to stand behind Ralph.
Quickly, with no hesitation, Roger dumped the contents of his cup onto the blond's head. Not waiting for Ralph to turn and see him, he raced back the Slytherin table. Maurice couldn't hold back a giggle as juice dripped down off of his blond hair onto his face. Ralph whipped around – effectively hitting the Irish blond in the face – and glared at the Slytherin table. Jack smirked. Eventually, with a tug on his sleeve from the Irish blond, Ralph turned back to his breakfast.
Ralph didn't get to finish his breakfast, however, because almost as soon as he turned back around, who could only be Oliver Wood raced into the Hall and toward him. "Roemers! What are you doing? We've got Quidditch practice!" he yelled. "You've missed the plans! Now we'll probably have to go over them again!"
Ralph got up quickly, and the two Gryffindors left the Great Hall. There was a grin larger than Maurice had ever seen on anyone's face on Jack's. "Thank you," he said to Roger. Roger shrugged.
"Why not?"
A few more minutes at the breakfast table, and then the Slytherin team decided that they were going to head to change for practice. "It's always best to give them time to get their hopes up," Draco said.
"Let's follow them," Jack said, standing up. "Nott, Zabini, Yaxley, do you want to come?"
Zabini decided that he would tag along, and then the four of them followed their Quidditch team. Maurice bounced along beside Roger. "It's fun being the evil people, isn't it?" he said. Roger rolled his eyes.
"Yeah. Fun."
They had to wait a while before the big showdown happened. Jack was practically leaning over the side of the stands to get a glimpse of his 'mortal enemy.' Eventually, the Gryffindor Quidditch team showed up.
"Roemers," Jack hissed. Ralph glanced up, narrowed his eyes, and replied with a similarly-toned 'Merridew.'
"Slytherins! What are you doing here?" Wood barked, shoving aside Ralph. It was Roger that saved them.
"Attacking this Gryffindor first year," he muttered, yanking the camera from a small Gryffindor's hand and passing it to Maurice. Maurice, being about half a foot taller than either Roger or the random Gryffindor, held it above his head. The first year jumped to try and get it, and Maurice grinned at Roger.
Wood shrugged. "Oh, okay then," he said, and then the team kicked off from the ground and began to practice. Maurice, seeing no reason not to, gave the camera back to the little Gryffindor. Blaise snorted.
"What?" Maurice asked, watching the Gryffindor scurry away from them.
"First of all, Wood's an idiot. Secondly, you gave it back?"
"Hey, being evil is fun, but it's hard to be evil all the time. And shut up Roger, it's in your blood," Maurice said when he saw Roger start to open his mouth. Roger glared at him, crossing his arms and sitting down beside Jack, who was still busy glaring at Ralph.
That obsession was unhealthy.
They dropped into silence, Roger glaring at Maurice – he probably shouldn't have said that, huh? – and Jack glaring at Ralph Roemers. To be honest, Ralph Roemers didn't seem like that bad of a person, despite being annoyingly good-looking.
"Here they come," Blaise said, a grin splitting his dark face. Maurice craned his neck, and, sure enough, there came the green-clad Slytherins. Hey, if you put Jack in the Slytherin Quidditch robes, he'd look like the Muggle representation of a leprechaun!
Oliver Wood looked very angry once he got down from his broom. Maurice scrambled down the stands to stand closer, so he could hear what they were saying clearly enough for it to be funny.
"Flint! This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"
Maurice, though he didn't want to get too close to Marcus Flint, had to move a few steps closer – accidentally bumping into Jack, who was still glaring at Ralph – to hear the captain's low reply. "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."
Maurice couldn't hold back a grin as Wood continued yelling at the larger teenager. Flint remained calm, producing a piece of paper and announced "I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker."
Maurice spotted Draco at the back, behind all of his much larger – well, except one dark-skinned boy wielding a Beaters' bat – teammates. He waved. Draco was smirking.
"You've got a new Seeker?" Wood asked. Maurice was slightly fascinated by how easily the shorter captain was distracted. Just a few moments ago he'd been practically screaming at Flint, and now here he was, asking about the new Seeker. "Who?"
They'd obviously rehearsed the dramatic entrance. Sure, there was no complicated choreography, but it was still too smooth to be spur-of-the-moment. Draco strolled through the ranks of the Slytherin Quidditch team and coming to stand beside Flint.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?"
"Funny you should mention Draco's father," Flint said. The entire Slytherin Quidditch team grinned. Maurice noted all of their slightly insane-looking grins. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."
Maurice couldn't hold back a gasp at the Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones that the Slytherins were holding. Sure, Draco had said that his father was giving the entire team new brooms, but how rich did you have to be to get seven people the latest model of the best broom? Sure, Maurice's family wasn't poor by any standards, but a broom like that… he would be lucky to get one for Christmas – hey, maybe he would! – but his family would never buy a entire set just so he could get on the Quidditch team.
He'd missed the conversation that had followed, but now two more Gryffindors – a redhead and a bushy-haired brunette – were crossing the Quidditch pitch. Hey, where was Roger?
Oh, there he was, still sitting up in the stands, pestering the Gryffindor first year.
"What's happening?" the redhead asked. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"
"Ronald Weasley," Jack muttered to Maurice, who obviously looked confused. "He's in my year."
"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," Draco said. Maurice couldn't help but notice that he looked incredibly smug. For good reason; he had the greatest broom in the universe. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."
Ronald Weasley had good taste in brooms. He didn't say anything after that… until Draco called the bushy-haired girl ("Hermione Granger. Muggleborn." was Jack's introduction of her) a mudblood.
The redhaired twins looked like they wanted to murder Draco, Ralph gaped, and Ronald Weasley brought out his wand.
The next thing Maurice saw was a group of slimy, silvery slugs. "Ew,"' he said, wrinkling his nose. The small, dark-skinned Beater laughed, spurring on the rest of the Slytherin team to start up. And it didn't look faked, either. Draco's face had gone red again, and Marcus Flint could barely stand.
The little Gryffindor had escaped Roger and was running toward them, waving his slightly scratched-up camera. "What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you? Oooh, can you hold him still, Harry?"
For the first time, Maurice fully realized that Harry Potter was standing just a few feet away from him. He pretended he didn't care, but couldn't stop a huge grin from spreading over his face. Given his Slytherin robes, people would probably think he was laughing at poor Ronald Weasley and the slugs.
"Get out of the way, Colin!"
Ah, so his name was Colin. Good to know. His year, Gryffindor, named Colin.
And then Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger left, and the excitement left with them. Maurice sighed and looked up to Roger… who wasn't there anymore. Well. That was lovely. Now he was stuck here with Jack Merridew – who was kind of nice, except his weird little problem with Ralph Roemers – and Blaise Zabini, who he knew not at all.
Of course, he barely knew Roger, but Roger was his best friend.
Maybe he could go visit his brother! Ernie was probably eating breakfast still, he always liked to sleep in on the weekends. Maurice skipped away, leaving a slightly-freaked-out Blaise and still-glaring-at-Ralph Jack behind him.
A lot of people have been asking if Jack is gay. Cx
Well... uh... I'm not quite sure. He does like one of the girls in his house, but... he's not gay for Roger, if that's what you're asking.
That'll work as an explanation, right?