TESS
She climbed the steps to the Owlrey quickly but quietly. Malfoy had just passed seconds ago, but she'd been in a nook and hadn't been noticed by the Slytherin.
Tess found she was glaring and softened her expression. No need to scare all the owls. She glanced around the Owlrey. There was a large broom-shaped package in one of the delivery slots. "That can't be it," Tess murmured. She fingered the handle. The package rolled over. Scrawled on the paper was, in very big letters, her name. Below that someone had written, from Sadie and Alexa.
A feeling of excitement washed over Tess and she picked up the package, weighing it eagerly. She had gotten a broomstick from her sisters. She had gotten a broomstick from her sisters!
She started to carry it down the staircase, then realized that she'd probably get in trouble if she was seen carrying a package down from the Owlrey. She cast a Disillusionment charm on it. Then she ran back to Ravenclaw tower, leaned out her window, and called, "Accio Tess's new broomstick!"
Jenn, who was just about to exit the room, whirled. "You got a broomstick?"
Tess heard a whistling sound and dropped, purely out of reflex; it had sounded like someone shot a Stunning spell at her. Slowly she started to stand, then knocked her head on something and sat down hard. She reached up and closed her fingers around the broom. She whispered "Finite Incantatem" with her wand pointed at it. The brown paper appeared.
"Well, open it," exclaimed another seventh year, Raven, who was on the Quidditch team. She bounced onto Tess's bed.
"Yeah, open it," Jenn urged.
Tess needed no more encouragement. She ripped the paper off. A shocked silence filled the room.
"A Firebolt?" Raven whispered, her eyes filled with awe.
Tess was staring at it with the same amount of admiration. "And my sisters sent me this," she breathed.
"Can I ride it?" Raven demanded.
"Me too," Jenn gasped.
Suddenly the room was filled with people clamoring to take a turn on the Firebolt. Tess held up her hands. "I'm really sorry, you guys, but I'm not going to use it until Quidditch tryouts."
There was a collective groan.
Tess wrapped the paper around the Firebolt and put it under her bed. "I'm sorry, you guys."
"Look on the bright side," Raven said. "Quidditch tryouts are in early November. That's not too far away. You grow up on a broom, Tess?"
"No," Tess admitted. "I thought . . . er, I'm a Muggle-born." She figured it wouldn't be a good idea to go around telling everyone in school that she was a pure-blood all of a sudden. No one would believe her. "Just keep this to yourselves, okay you guys?" she requested. "I'd get in a load of trouble if anyone else found out I'd been to the Owlrey today."
She collected her things for the day and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Ravenclaw table was virtually empty; they normally ate breakfast quickly and crammed in a few minutes at the library before their first class. Tess sat down at the end of the table, took Glaedr from her pocket, and placed him next to her plate.
Tess didn't know how Raven was on the team. When talking about anything other than Quidditch, she was a stereotypical teen girl: giggly, not really consulting her schoolbooks, and following around the latest top hot boy in school. But when Quidditch was the topic, she was dead serious.
Glaedr nuzzled her hand, looking for food. Tess scooped eggs, sausage, and a waffle onto her plate, then handed some sausage to her pet rock. She piled her waffle with whipped cream, powdered sugar, and maple syrup. She ate briskly.
When she was done, Glaedr was covered in syrup (she didn't know how) and was trying to eat out of the bowl of whipped cream. Tess doused him with water, dried him with her napkin, and placed him on her shoulder, resisting the urge to look over at the Slytherin table. She stood and swung her school bag over her shoulder and headed off to the dungeons.
September passed quickly enough, and though Tess snooped around as much as possible without getting into trouble, she didn't find out where Dumbledore was. October was much the same. The only bit of excitement to break the tension in the school was the Halloween feast.
And then suddenly it was November. On the second it snowed, providing the school with a wintry spirit, and snowball fights erupted all over the place in the following week.
And then it was time for the Quidditch tryouts. Tess took her broom out to the field early and Raven went with her to give her flying tips. They decided that Tess should probably try out for a Chaser, given her extensive prowess with throwing a ball. Soon enough the Quidditch captain, a seventh year named Quinn Jefferies, walked onto the field and called the two girls down. "You here for the tryouts?" he asked Tess. He had an Irish accent.
"Yeah," Tess said.
"She's got a Firebolt," Raven blurted excitedly.
"No way," Quinn gasped. He grabbed the broom out of Tess's hand and peered at the handle. Then he looked up at her. "Could I try it out?"
"It's amazing," Raven gushed. "I already had a go—you'll let him, won't you?" she added to Tess.
"Sure," Tess said. "But please, don't choose me for the team just because I have a Firebolt?"
"He's not that biased," Raven said. "Go on, Quinn, try it out already! It's not going to kill you." She shoved the captain so that he almost broke his nose on the broom handle. Quinn tentatively kicked off, then sped around the Quidditch pitch screaming in exhilaration.
"He likes Quidditch?" Tess said.
Raven didn't give her an odd look for asking the question to which the answer was obvious. "Definitely. Wants to be on a professional team if he can next year."
Shortly Quinn landed, as people were beginning to file onto the pitch, and handed Tess's broom back to her with a dazed look in his eyes. "It's amazing," he told her dreamily.
Then he shouted, making Tess jump. "OI! NO FIRST YEARS! GET BACK INSIDE, PHILIP!"
"Dang it," a small voice exclaimed, and a short first year ran back to the castle.
"My little brother," Quinn said affectionately. "Such an annoying git. ALRIGHT, EVERYONE! EXISTING TEAM MEMBERS WITH ME!"
Tess moved to the large crowd of people waiting to try out. The only person who joined Quinn (other than Raven) was Kim Fields, a fourth year with one of her front teeth missing. Tess assumed she was one of the Beaters.
"Welcome back, those of you who've been with us before," Quinn said. "And welcome to Quidditch tryouts, those of you who haven't. The available slots are: one Beater, two Chasers, and one Seeker. First up to try out are potential Seekers, because it's exceptionally difficult to find the Snitch when it's pitch-black outside. Step up, step up."
And then went the Beaters, because, as Quinn put it, "it's bloody hard to avoid and then hit something you can't see." Finally it was Tess's turn. When she stepped out, everyone except two people did too.
Going to have a lot of competition, Tess mused.
"Alright, you first Tess," Quinn said. "I'm the Keeper," he added to the two other people who hadn't tried out, "so if you're looking to be a Keeper you'll have to wait till next year. Here's the Quaffle, Tess, see if you can get it past me. You've got four tries." He mounted his broom and flew off to the brighter end of the pitch, where he hovered in front of the hoops.
Tess tucked the Quaffle under her arm. Her stomach was filled with butterflies. It's just like running the ball when there's no one to pass to, she told herself. And then someone gets open, but you have to get it past a defensive lineman. Bullet throws, all of them.
She kicked off, shooting towards the clouds, then dove and hovered some fifty feet away from Quinn.
"Take your time," Quinn called.
Tess leaned forward and rushed at Quinn. She feinted to the left, then right. He wasn't buying it, but she had suspected he wouldn't. Quickly she calculated: he was about fifteen feet in front of the hoops, giving her plenty of space. As she continued at him he held his ground. At the last second, she swung herself under her broom, then back on top as soon as she'd passed beneath him, and chucked the Quaffle through the middle hoop. Then, as it fell, she looped around and caught it.
"Nice throw," Quinn called.
Grinning inwardly but keeping her face blank, she soared up and back to the middle of the pitch, turning to face Quinn. Again the butterflies came.
Tess leaned forward again, the Quaffle still under her arm. When she was about twenty feet in front of Quinn she threw the Quaffle and turned to the left. There was a groan from below as the large red ball flew straight at Quinn. He dove.
The Quaffle suddenly curved to the right and sailed through the right goal. Tess grinned. Even though it'd been a few years since she'd played baseball, she still had the curveball down cold.
Quinn retrieved the ball and tossed it at her. "Nice throw," he said again.
Tess nodded once and took off away from him.
This time she came at him from the left, then swooped in front of him and bullet-threw the Quaffle. Quinn caught it, but it bounced out of his fingers football fumble-style and tumbled through the right hoop. He whirled and stared openmouthed at it as it fell. Raven, waiting below the hoops in case one fell astray, darted up with the Quaffle, passed it to him, and darted back down.
"What was that?" Quinn demanded, turning to Tess and chucking the Quaffle at her.
She smiled. "That was a fumble."
And, tucking the Quaffle under her arm one last time, she flew away from the hoops and the baffled Keeper.