A/N: Hello my lovelies! This chapter was really difficult to write because I needed to get in both characterizations and plot. So I've decided to split it in two, so it wouldn't be horrendously long. Without further ado, I present Katie's tryout! Enjoy! x

CHAPTER 6 – Upstart Part I: Introductions

Early the next morning, Katie inspected herself in the mirror. She wore the green training uniform Mercury had delivered the night before, and was ready with all her padding and equipment. With her newly polished Cleansweep Eleven in hand, she picked up the portkey and landed, once again, in the Holyhead Compound.

Martha the security guard greeted her at the stadium, and led her into a hall she hadn't seen before. Katie met the secretary, Amy – a severe woman who looked as if she'd had a few espressos too many. "You're going to meet many important people today," Amy said in a clipped tone. "Maybe the owner, but for sure you'll meet the coach and the team. You must be very excited."

"Beyond," Katie replied with a huge grin. The secretary nodded, saying no more. But Katie felt as if her dreams were about to come true. It was only just setting in that she, plain ol' Katie Bell, was going play Quidditch for a living. Quidditch. Her favorite thing ever. After the cursed necklace, she'd become resigned to the reality that the chance to play professionally had slipped her by. The war had really begun, and Quidditch had become a distant dream. She'd even tried contenting herself with living like a fashionable Muggle, even if her job was all too shallow and girly for her liking. It was exciting sometimes, but Katie found fashion a bit too pretentious. Sometimes she wondered why posing for pictures even counted as an occupation. But she would be free of it forever, if she found a way to tell Miss Raul. After all, she was going to sign with the Harpies.

Amy led Katie to one of the offices lining the hallway. The placard on the door read, "COACH BELINDA KING". Katie was about to meet who was reputed to be among the toughest coaches around.

"Coach King," knocked Amy. "Katherine Bell is here to see you."

"Ah, let her in," a high, tinkly voice called from within. Katie's eyebrows shot up, and Amy prodded her into the doorframe. Katie approached the swivel chair at the desk area, which was situated by a large window. "Katie Bell reporting, sir – I mean, ma'am."

"It's 'Coach'," smirked Coach King. She placed down the newspaper she was reading. "Damn Prophet," she muttered, "Looking for dirt on players to garner interest. Yesterday they did a piece on the Puddlemere Keeper. Wood? Thought he was a queer." Katie frowned. "Today, they've got rubbish on Maddock from the Magpies. Unimportant. Let's get a look at you, shall we?"

Coach King got up to circle Katie. "Name's Katherine Bell, hmm? That could be an issue," she tutted without explanation. "I am Belinda King. You are to address me as Coach King, or Coach. I also respond to 'Queen', although I don't always take kindly to arse-kissing. Under no circumstances may you call me by my first name or any derivative of it. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss – Coach."

"You're nice and tall, around 5'9"? 10"? Long reach… good. You've got some muscle," the coach prodded Katie's arms and torso and shook her around. "Good, good. But we'll have to fill you up some. Hmm, at least you'll look good for the photo ops, yes? Raul tells me you're, ah… photogenic."

"I had a growth spurt." Katie considered that she ought to be insulted by Coach King's condescending tone. She could hardly process what the coach was saying, however, because of the latter's own appearance. Coach King, for all her reputed toughness, stood at a mere 4'11", nearly a foot shorter than Katie, who could've sworn the woman was taller. She had alarming, bottle blonde hair, and blue-grey eyes that flashed when she spoke. Her voice was how Katie imagined a pixie would sound. Was she really that scary?

"Playing experience?" the Coach broke through Katie's reverie.

"I played Center Chaser for Gryffindor from my second to my last year at Hogwarts. Not counting the year of the Triwizard Tournament… And when I touched a cursed necklace in my last year."

"Cursed eh? No other injuries?"

"Well, nothing else major."

"Side effects?"

"No long-standing ones. Everything else has been dealt with over a…" Katie struggled to find the word, "…sufficient amount of time."

"Therapy?"

"Too much of it, I think."

"Bodily limitations?"

"Nope, none. The Healers fixed me up great."

"Good, good. Have you played since?"

"I came back for the Finals against Ravenclaw, and we won. But I haven't played, not since the war."

"And were you at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Coach."

"Sorry. Coach."

"Then you're unafraid. I like that. What is your opinion of the Harpies?"

Katie gave an excited smile, "Oh, they've always been my favorite! Everyone cheers for the Bats and the Tornadoes 'cause they win a lot, but I've never been a fan of their playing style. It's too mainstream. The Harpies… they're exciting. And they make me proud to be a girl in this sport."

"And how do you feel about a tryout?"

"It'd be great, I think," Katie replied sincerely. She'd given this some thought. "It would hardly be fair if I didn't win my spot on this team."

"It won't be easy, but if you're up for it then Raul may just be right about you. Well? Anything you'd like to say about me, then?" Coach King smirked.

"Well," Katie blurted, "I just thought you'd be taller."

A moment of silence followed. Katie grimaced, expecting the worst. Surprisingly, though the diminutive coach began laughing. "Touché. You've got spunk. Let's go, kid. Practice time. And don't think I'll be nice."

"Er, Coach?" Katie said, unsure, "Miss Amy said I was to meet the owner?"

"That can wait," Coach King waved her arm dismissively, and stepped out a side door into what Katie realized was the pitch itself. She took in a shallow breath and shielded her eyes from the sunlight. Her heart was pounding hard, her hands grew sweaty. She gripped her broom tighter as she spied a line in the middle of the pitch composed of six players wearing her exact garb: the Harpies. Nearby was a group of coaches, huddled over their clipboards and balls. "Come along," said Coach King. Katie meekly followed.

"Good morning, ladies!" cried Coach King. The line made no move, no genial reaction. A couple of them glanced curiously in Katie's direction. "Today we finally get to practice as a full roster. I'd like you to meet Katherine Bell." She gestured Katie to come forward and introduce herself, which the latter did while trying her hardest to be cool.

Murmurs went around, and Katie didn't know if that was a good thing. She bit her lip and looked to the Coach for support.

"This upstart told me she thought I'd be taller," the coach deadpanned, getting a few titters from the women. "So don't be afraid to bully her. Bell, just because you got cursed bad doesn't mean we're gonna go any easier on you. In fact, we're going to be working you the hardest as soon as you have a regular schedule." Katie tried to keep a straight face.

"This is the rest of the coaching staff." Coach King pointed at the group of assistant coaches, who had come forward, as well. "Coaches Toni and Tanya, twins. Defensive strategy." Two identically burly women waved. "Coach Beatrix; her assistants Patti and Denise. Offense. Coach Caroline. Correction and conditioning." The rest waved and nodded, too.

"Okay, ladies," continued King, turning to the line of players. "Introduce yourselves, if you please."

"Glinda Chapman," came an airy voice. A petite, bubbly redhead stepped forward and curtsied. "Seeker. I love your hair."

"Thanks…?" said Katie. "Your hair's really pretty too." And her coif was oddly perfect – Katie had never really noticed because she only ever saw Glinda on the telly when she was gunning for the Snitch. Glinda was a fast one – she'd caught the darn thing seven times in a row in their last season.

"Annelise Grant," came a deeper voice with an American accent, "Left-wing Chaser." A brunette of medium build ruffled her no-fuss pixie-cut hair. She had a round face and delicate features – sweet, really, but Katie knew her game was deadly and intelligent.

"I hear you're engaged," blurted Katie, "Erm. Congratulations." Annelise offered her a shy smile in return.

Another tall, striking brunette gave a lazy salute. She wore her long, ebony black hair loose, and she possessed piercing blue eyes and porcelain skin. Katie spied an electric violet stripe running on the underside of her hair. "If there's anyone here that Miss Raul should have recruited to model, it should have been her," Katie grumbled inwardly.

"Wilda Griffiths," she cocked an eyebrow, sounding almost bored. "Right-wing Chaser. But you probably already knew that, right, Rookie?" And it was true. Heck, Katie knew all these players! That they were actually introducing themselves to her was surreal. She looked down the line as the Chaser stepped back. Gwenog Jones, who hadn't introduced herself yet, stepped to the side and slapped Wilda on her bottom. Katie raised a brow, and Wilda plastered on a passive, nonchalant smirk.

The Keeper stepped forward. Her long hair, which bordered between brown and blonde, was pulled into a sensible braid. "Bruna Geyser," she smiled, and Katie immediately felt at ease. Bruna even came up to her and shook her hand, something the other girls hadn't done. "Keeper," she smirked, her very slight accent betraying her German descent. Katie smirked back. For some reason, though she felt she ought to be intimidated by Bruna, she wasn't. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Katie murmured.

A hearty woman with close-cut curls came up to hug Katie. "Giovanna Dermont," she proclaimed proudly, her curls brushing against Katie's chin. "Call me Vanna! Or Momma. Mother of two, mother of this team. Beater. Nice to meet you, young lady." Katie beamed back at her, feeling even more at ease. That is, until the Captain stepped forward.

"Gwenog Jones," she said in a deep, commanding voice. Even her very presence was commanding: she stood a little over six feet tall, and her body was quite burly and muscular. Her coarse hair was cropped to chin-length and bleached so that it looked like a lion's mane against her dark skin. She stood out quite a lot from her peers, which Katie had never really noticed before. The younger girl's eyes went wide as her idol stepped forward and sneered, "Captain. Beater. We don't allow fairies on this team."

Katie glared at Gwenog's veiled threat, feeling disappointed at her quick dismissal. Before she could stop herself, she politely replied, "Then I'm glad to know you at least think flying comes naturally to me." Gwenog's eyes and nostrils flared, and Katie knew right then that the Captain's respect was not easily won.

"Ohh, she's feisty!" laughed one of them.

"Now, girls," said Coach King breezily, unnerving Katie even more. "We'll see what she's made of soon enough, hmm? Get in line, Bell." Katie inserted herself in between Griffiths and Geyser, far enough away from Gwenog Jones.

"LAPS!" yelled the coach, and the girls started running around the pitch. "Fifteen rounds, ladies, fifteen!" Katie kept a steady pace in the middle of the line, and tried calculating the distance in her head.

"The oval is five hundred feet long, one hundred and eighty feet wide," she jogged her memory. "That's… that's…" Yeah, she gave up. Math was definitely not her strong point, but she guessed it would be around a five-kilometer run. It would be easy enough – Oliver always had them running laps anyway, as did Ange and Harry. Endurance was not an issue. Katie kept up until the beginning of the 13th lap, when Coach King blew her whistle. Suddenly the team began sprinting, and Katie tried to keep up with their mad pace. She caught up somewhere near the middle, and kept sprinting with them up until the finish. Naturally Gwenog took up the front. Katie finished third, and Vanna Dermont rounded up the group. Panting, the girls took on a leisurely jogging pace.

"Dermont!" screamed Coach King, "Slow! Twenty-one minutes forty-two total? Let's go, let's go! Bell! Good time! Try to beat Jones next time, don't hold back!" Gwenog took a haughty look at Katie, and proceeded to lead the group once more around the oval.

Panting, Katie turned to Bruna, the Keeper. "Is she always this snotty?" she cocked her head in Gwenog's direction.

"No," Bruna exhaled. "She just likes to scare people. It's how she ensures herself of respect on this team and outside of it."

"But… But what did I do?" Katie couldn't help pouting a little. Up until their introduction, Gwenog Jones was her idol. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"Nothing," Bruna rolled her eyes, "Like I said. It's her way of saying, 'Hello newbie, I'm Gwen! Fear me!'" Bruna beat her chest. Katie had to laugh, "And when does she go back to normal?"

"Depends. I suggest you impress her today. The better a player she thinks you are, the easier to get along with her it will be. She's not so bad, you know, when she's not being… you know."

"Noted. No pressure, eh?"

Their jog slowed to a stop, and Katie felt her legs cramp a little. "Merlin, I thought I was in shape." But King was brutal. After the team completed their warm-ups and stretching, she had them run suicide sprints and court exercises for a good twelve minutes. By then, Katie was winded. Then again, so were the others. To Katie's delight, even the mighty Gwenog Jones struggled to even her breath during the water break.

"All right," called Coach King, clutching a clipboard. "Break's over. Follow the Leader! Up in the air!"

"Get ready," Bruna nudged Katie lightly, "It's about to get rough."

Katie swung her legs around her Cleansweep and made to kick off. She had been nervous for this part – after all, she hadn't flown since… well, her last Quidditch game at school. And all the signing business had happened so fast that she hadn't had time to practice, or even fly for fun. "Oliver would have had a stroke if he knew," she chuckled in an attempt at humor. But as soon as her feet left the ground, so did her worries leave her mind. Air was her natural element. The sky could not limit her. The wind would take her places –

"Bell? You done talking to yourself over here?" Coach King sat perched on her own broom, and regarded Katie with both eyebrows raised. With a deep blush, Katie muttered, "Er, yes, Coach."

"Well!" barked the coach. "Do what you see, and I'll see how you do." Cryptic. Katie then looked to where the team had kicked off to do the Follow the Leader drill. Glinda, the Seeker, had taken up the front of the line, and the five others made up a tail that followed her every move. Katie kicked off and flew to the line's end. She caught up in the midst of a particularly steep dive, and let go as she enjoyed the wind's resistance against her body. "Whoop!" she couldn't help but scream on their way down. The others looked back, puzzled. "Oops," she blushed, and she tried to keep her mouth shut from then on.

Each team member took a turn for every lap they made around the pitch, the previous leader falling back to the end of the line. Katie followed every roll, curve, swerve, and loop the leaders threw, and decided that she loved this drill. Gwenog appeared to want to knock everyone off their brooms, speeding as fast as her broom would take her while hanging by both hands, and then by just one. Katie willed her broom to keep up with their Second-Generation Firebolts, and only just managed to do so until Bruna took control over the line. She seemed to find it amusing to have everyone perform the Starfish and Stick while circling the pitch and through the hoops at a torturously slow pace – Vanna in particular wailed in protest that her ankles weren't made for the Keeper's cliché. Finally, it was Katie's turn.

"Rookie!" barked the Captain. "The hell are you waiting for? Go! Go! GO!"

Katie needed no further instruction. She let her instincts and muscle memory take over, and maneuvered her broom in the way she had done for years. Everything came naturally, from her signature quintuple barrel roll to her feints and her triple climb-and-dive. Mostly she relished in being able to mimic her favorite plays back at Hogwarts. As her lap came to a close, she decided to attempt one last maneuver: she boldly flung herself off the right side of her broom, grabbed the stick with her left hand, and swung her body around the broom twice and back onto the seat in under a second. She looked behind her, smiling exuberantly, only to find her teammates staring at her with their mouths wide open.

Nobody had attempted her favorite move. Not even Gwenog Jones. Katie frowned.

"Well, call me dizzy," clapped Vanna Dermont. "Isn't she cute!"

Coach King blew on her whistle before anyone could reply.

Wordlessly, the players moved to their respective stations: Glinda to an odd, clear tent with a few Snitches flitting around; Gwenog and Vanna to their equally burly coaching counterparts; and Annelise and Wilda by the other coaches and a line of Quaffles. On the other side of the pitch, Bruna maneuvered her way around the goalposts, psyching herself up. Katie flew up behind the Chasers and observed the drill.

Annelise nodded at Wilda, and took hold of the Quaffle. They then flew towards the opposite goals in tandem, passing the ball swiftly between them. As they neared the goal, Bruna hunched into a protective stance. Wilda zoomed towards Annelise, grabbed the Quaffle while Annelise feinted left, careened straight up with a fancy roll on her broom, and hurled the ball into the rightmost hoop and past Bruna, who missed by mere inches.

"Show-offs!" laughed the Keeper, "That was barely legal!" The Chasers flew back to the opposite end.

They gestured Katie to join them, but she shook her head. "One more, please?" Nodding, they zoomed back towards the Keeper, and this time, Annelise attempted a goal. Her methods were not as flashy, but she was speedy and wily. She somehow managed to get Bruna to dive right, and easily shot the Quaffle through the center hoop.

"GEYSER!" screamed Coach King, who had replaced her broom with a levitating platform. "That's two from you now! Let's go, let's go!"

"Sorry!"

"Sorry isn't going to save goals! Why, this drill isn't even supposed to be for two, it's supposed to be for three! BELL! Get in there!"

Katie sheepishly joined the other two, who then placed her in the middle. "Center Chaser. Right."

"Let's go, Katie Kingpin," Wilda Griffiths flashed a mischievous smile. "Give Coach something to really scream about."

"That's… bad, right?" frowned Katie.

"You'll see!" they laughed, and prodded Katie forward. "Remember," called Annelise, pointing at herself and to Wilda. "Annie. Wilda. Talk to us!"

From there, instinct took over again. As soon as Katie touched the Quaffle, it was like she zoned back into her playing days at Hogwarts. It was surreal. She passed the Quaffle quickly to Annelise before plunging herself below Wilda and coming up on the right wing.

The other two seemed to understand what Katie had in mind: Annie passed the ball to Wilda, and flew above her to center. Wilda then hurled the ball to Katie, who flew over Annie back to the middle. They continued in this plait pattern until just outside the scoring area, where Katie attempted a long goal from the outside instead of passing to a waiting Annie. The Keeper was quick enough, however, to save the goal.

From a distance Coach King nodded, satisfied.

"Damn," said Wilda as they flew back. "Good try. Where'd you learn that play?"

"My captain taught it to us back at Hogwarts. It was my favorite," replied Katie, blushing. "He was a bit of a tactician."

Wilda tapped her chin. "We haven't done that in a while. Let's try a basic Hawkshead, hmm?"

"I think we can do better than that," Katie grinned as they spun around. They then sped towards the goalposts in a V formation, Katie clutching the Quaffle up in front. She then broke the Hawkshead, flying higher than her two wingmen.

Interest piqued, Coach King planted three phantom Chasers – miniature trolls on broomsticks – to ambush Katie alone.

But Katie was quick – she dropped the ball down with a blind pass. "Annie!" she called, and the Left-Wing Chaser took over. To fend off the phantoms, Katie performed a tight barrel roll and landed herself on Annie's left side. Annie passed the Quaffle to Katie, who skirted the pitch and flew beneath her and Wilda. By sleight of hand, she feinted a hard left, but punched the Quaffle up to Wilda, who expertly caught it and sank it through Bruna's center hoop.

"WOOOOOOOWEE!" Coach King's piercing scream startled Katie, almost causing her to fall off her broom. The other two Chasers flew to steady her, unruffled by their coach's adrenalized reaction.

"Great assist," smiled Annie.

"You made Coach scream on your first day! Not bad!" Wilda gave Katie a pinch on the cheek.

"I'm fine," griped Bruna, although no malice laced her tone. "Next goal? No goal!"

"Keep trying, Bru!"

The three continued the drill with the Keeper and the phantoms. Bruna caught many of Katie's attempts, but Katie answered the Keeper's smarts with creativity. Now and then Coach Caroline gave input on Katie's form – Katie had a weird tendency to throw her shoulder or over-arch her back when she passed the ball. She didn't mind being watched, but as the time passed Katie couldn't help but notice another pair of eyes boring into the back of her head. She looked up to catch Gwenog Jones glaring at her.

Following Katie's line of vision, Wilda poked her, "Don't worry about Gwen. You just need to prove yourself. Then maybe she'll play nice."

"Maybe?" Katie gawked. From what she remembered of the Harpies' games and interviews, Gwenog Jones was not an enemy to be desired.

"Oh come on. It isn't every day that a rookie comes along and insults Gwenog Jones," Wilda smirked. "Gwen and I, we're plenty similar. And I think I like your guts, Rookie Dangerous, so it's just a matter of time before Gwen comes around. You're her teammate now."

"Here's to hoping," Katie smiled weakly.

Coach King broke their conversation with a piercing whistle. "Take five, ladies! Scrimmage afterwards!"

The players scattered, and Katie flew behind her fellow Chasers tentatively. She felt a tap on her shoulder. "Hey! It's Kate, right?" It was the Keeper, Bruna.

"Oh, hey. Katie, actually."

"Good eye out there. Coach is throwing me looks like, 'What are you doing!', and I don't get a lot of those. You take some getting used to."

"Thanks. My arm's kind of sore, though. Haven't played in around two years."

"But you're a natural. I should hate you."

"You're really good, too. I used to get Quaffles past my Captain in Hogwarts just by acting cute, but I can tell you don't swing that way, so."

They shared a laugh. Katie had a feeling they'd be good friends. "So is training always this intense?" she asked.

"You kidding me?" Bruna raised an eyebrow. "If anything, it's been relatively relaxed today. Coach must be helping you to adjust. Or observing."

"Either way, I'm going to feel so dead tomorrow." And it was true. Katie could feel the lactic acid all over her body. Even her fingers throbbed from all the ball-handling. Also, she could feel Gwenog giving her the stink-eye from just a few meters away. At this point she didn't know what would kill her more: her aching muscles, or the disdain radiating from her idol.

"Former idol," she grumbled, pulling her arms in to stretch. Bruna threw her a perplexed look, and handed her a goblet filled with energy drink.

The whistle sounded shortly after, along with the distinct shriek Katie was just beginning to get used to. "SCRIMMAGE!"

The players formed a semicircle in the center of the pitch, where Coach King stood beside a quaking chest of balls. Behind her were seven phantom players, each taking vague likenesses of different Quidditch players. Katie gave them scrutinizing looks, trying to recognize whom they were patterned after. "So they weren't trolls…"

"Alright," said Coach King, "You know the drill, but I'll run it down for Bell, here. Seven versus seven. Free play until Glinda catches the Snitch, or lunchtime. Brooms up!"

Six heads nodded, but Gwenog Jones cut in, "I have a better idea, Coach. If I may…" Gwenog grinned viciously. "Don't you think, Coach, that it would be interesting to see how Bell would cope in a real offensive situation?"

"Meaning?" The coach flipped the chest open disinterestedly. Katie glared at the smug Beater while the other players rolled their eyes at their vengeful captain.

"I'd like for me and Vanns to play on the opposing team," Gwenog sneered. "Beaters with the phantoms versus everyone else."

"Is that necessary, Coach?" asked Bruna, although she looked straight at Gwenog.

Coach King weighed the options in her head. She asked, "Rookie, what do you say?"

Through her gritted teeth, Katie replied, "Sounds fair."

Katie lined up beside her fellow Chasers, Bruna, Glinda, and the phantom Beaters and watched with newfound determination as Gwenog and a hesitant Vanna lined up alongside the other phantom figures. They kicked up, hovering above Coach King in a circle. Katie considered that she ought not be too threatened. It was just a pissed-off Gwenog Jones with a bunch of holographic players, right?

Coach King said wearily, "Good clean match, yeah? Jones?" And she released the Bludgers, followed by the Golden Snitch. Gwenog watched after the Bludgers with a feral growl that made Katie shiver in her boots. Glinda laughed cheerily, promising to make quick work of the Snitch. Coach King took the Quaffle in both hands, and Katie's own clenched tight around her broom. Coach King tossed it up, and Katie zoomed in to snatch it from mid-air.

...To be continued...

A/N: Ugh, I hate cliffies! I actually wanted to have the whole tryout up for you guys by today, but I just wasn't happy with it! This is the result. Anyway, how do you find it? Writing about Quidditch is really tiring, so any suggestions would be awesome! Review if you please, and thank you for reading! :)

Have a lovely week up ahead!

x Izobel