A/N: So, this chapter's about the Slytherin tryouts (as you'll find out in about ten seconds). I'm not sure how I did with that scene; I'm not great when it comes to writing out Quidditch, so tell me what you think! I'm all for honest criticism :)

QUIDDITCH TRY-OUTS

are to be held next Saturday the 1st at 2 PM sharp!

Please arrive at the Quidditch pitch prepared with a broom and the fundamental equipment.

If you do not have the mandatory gear, please speak with Headmistress McGonagall.

First-years are not permitted to try-out.

Try-outs will be held by the new Slytherin captain Rosalie Flint, sixth year.

A spot on last season's team DOES NOT guarantee acceptance this coming season.

Please sign the list before Thursday, October 30.

Chapter Four - Let The Season Begin

I walked onto the Quidditch pitch in my green and silver robes, the early November chill nipping at my nose. In the center of the green field stood a little over 20 Slytherins, similarly dressed like me. They were fooling around with each other, pushing and shoving and laughing contently. I recognized most of them, either from previous seasons or just from passing them in the hall.

There was Merrick Roland, in all of his bulky glory; Albus Potter with Scorpius Malfoy by his side; Gavin Goyle, a chubby third year, and many other familiar faces. There were some I could just tell were going to make the team, like Albus (huge fan of him, I am) and Merrick.

"Alright, chumps," I said, holding my broom as I walked to the front of the group and faced towards them with a serious expression. "My name is Rosalie Flint, and I am your new captain this year."

Some second year, who stood on the edge of the group, nodded furiously.

"To start off, I want you to separate into groups: chasers over here, beaters over here, keepers there and seekers beside me."

Albus was instantly by my side, giving me a grin. While I was two years older them him, he was already taller than me. Next to him was a fifth year named Violetta Flavic, a beady-eyed girl with platinum blonde hair, and then Robert Gregson. Why anyone would even bother trying out for seeker when Albus was around, though, baffled me.

"Good. Now, let's caught to the chase; I'm going to run you through some drills and then one or two scrimmages, just to access your boundaries and restraints. I will mostly decide on those who possess the most talent, but your sportsmanship will matter. Also, if you are caught cheating, I will immediately send you on your way. Slytherins are often stereotyped as cheaters," I said, remembering my argument with Potter earlier in the school year. " I won't tolerate it this year."

After stressing that, I had them mount their brooms and complete some flying drills. I held a clipboard in my hand as I watched them, making notes about the clumsy fliers, and also the agile ones. I made them do everything drill that I could think of.

The drills lasted for a span of twenty minutes. Following the flying exercises, I organized three teams for the scrimmages.

"You, you, and you!" I ordered. "Over there with Potter. Corrin Vandevort, you're with Roland. Stop making goo goo eyes at him!"

Corrin's expression turned sour as she made a face at me.

"Alright. Team One and Two will play each other in a short, thirty minute scrimmage, giving me time to observe you in action. The team with the most points at the end of the thirty minutes gets to play against Team Three. I will be releasing the Snitch, but only to observe the Seekers. I don't expect any of the Seekers to actually catch the Snitch, though that would be remarkable. I assume you all know your positions?"

Nods and murmurs.

"Get 'er done!" I handed a bat to each of the Beaters, muttering, "Make sure you don't take off anyone's head, gotcha?"

I landed in the center circle where the shaking crate held the Buldgers, the Quaffle, and the Golden Snitch. All of the Slytherins took their positions before I blew the whistle around my neck. I released the Snitch and the Buldgers, then took the Quaffle into my hands and threw it up into the playing area.

Watching intently, I returned to my notes. Each person had several adjectives and paragraphs next to their names. I started knocking off some people who were truly awful, wondering why they even bothered showing up.

Also, I kept a small eye on the Seekers above head: Violetta and Robert. They were okay, but truly and honestly I had my mind set on Albus Potter. He was sitting on a bench with the rest of Team Three, his emerald eyes already on the Snitch, even from that distance.

A boy named Mort Yorkland sent a Buldger at Scorpius Malfoy, who had the Quaffle in hand and was zooming towards Team One's goal posts. But Roland was too quick, deflecting the Buldger with a deafening crack, sending it back at Yorkland. Malfoy threw the Quaffle through the lowest goal, just out of the reach of Kennedy Fritz, earning his team 10 points.

In the end, Team Two won the match 40 - 20. Malfoy, Roland, Vandevort, and several others proceeded to compete against Team Three. I started the game with another blow of the whistle, throwing the Quaffle once more into the air from the center of the pitch.

I looked up, watching the players closely. I found Albus Potter high up, looking keenly for the Golden Snitch. Violetta Flavic copied him, her eyes also searching for it.

Further below, the match ensued. Roland and the other Beaters furiously hit the Buldgers with all of their strength; Malfoy, Vandevort, and the Chasers continued to score points; and the Keepers watched from their goal posts enthusiastically. I found myself thoroughly enjoying the match, my eyes going back and forth between the players.

Then, Albus flew past me with extreme speed, Flavic hot on his tail. I gazed with phenomenal excitement and shock as Albus chased the Snitch, eyes behind his goggles not leaving the golden ball's quick frame. I was literally gawking as the fair-skinned boy leaned forward, closer and closer, until his gloved hand wrapped around the Snitch. He tumbled off of his broom, falling five feet onto the lush grass.

I pumped my fist into the air. "150 points for Team Three! Albus has caught the Snitch! Alright, land your brooms; try-outs are over!" I ran over to Albus, who was still lying on the groud, a stupid grin on his face. I even smiled back at him, thinking of how possible it was for Slytherin to beat Gryffindor's arse this season.

"Absolutely brill, Albus!" I complimented, lending a hand to him. He gratefully took it and I helped him up.

I labored over my clipboard of notes, tiredly examining every word. It had been six days since try-outs, and I had barely gotten a wink of sleep. It was taking an extreme toll on me, I noticed, as I grudgingly took a sip of black coffee.

Georgiana watched me with small amusement, but mostly empty concern. "Rosalie, darling. You look like a zombie. Perhaps you should stop slaving over your Quid-"

"No!" I snapped, interrupting her. "No, not until I have everything perfectly sorted out." I turned around to see Potter chortling about something with Weasel. "How does he do it?"

"How does who do what?" Veronique asked, confused.

"Bloody Potter! Look at him, laughing about, having a jolly time! I've been perched over this clipboard for days and he's not even stressed. At all!"

"I think you're taking this too seriously," Georgiana told me.

"Of course I'm not. You can never take Quidditch too seriously. But how are Slytherin and Gryffindor always neck and neck when I'm working endlessly and he's fooling around on his fat arse?" I questioned, turning back to Georgiana and Veronique.

They just sighed simultaneously.

I snatched up my clipboard, standing up from the breakfast table. "Its been made obvious that you two don't care. If you don't mind, I'm going to class early." I picked up my bag, which was propped up against the table, and walked out of the Great Hall, my body exhausted but my mind buzzing.

So, with my unceasing work, I'd narrowed it down to 14 people. The more I studied, the happier I grew. The team I was forming would be spectacular. Of course, the exhaustion of it all was killing me slowly. With my restlessness, mood swings, and everything gnawing on my nerves, people were starting to aggravate me, and I them.

But is was worth it.

Now, the only thing that could stand between me and my cup was that damned Potter.

Who, when I thought about it, I hadn't interacted with much in the past two weeks. There was that small incident in Transfiguration, but like I said, it was small; the usual "you're a Gryffindor" and "But you're a Slytherin" argument. I hadn't talked with him since.

But it wasn't like I minded.