It was a chilly afternoon just before the first Quidditch match of the year, and while most of the school was still caught up in the excitement of the upcoming game, Brooklyn had other plans. She'd spent weeks watching the Gryffindor team practice, marveling at their seamless coordination on the pitch. She'd always loved the game, and now, more than ever, she wanted to prove herself.
Sneaking out of the castle, Brooklyn made her way to the Quidditch pitch, making sure to avoid any teachers or prefects along the way. She'd seen the broom shed, and it was the perfect opportunity to steal a practice broom and take it for a spin. Her heart raced with excitement as she grabbed the closest broom, a sleek and fast Nimbus 1995, and made her way onto the pitch.
She kicked off from the ground with practiced ease, her feet gripping the broomstick as she shot into the air, the wind whipping past her face. She flew high above the goalposts, enjoying the freedom of the open sky. There was a sense of exhilaration she had never experienced before, and for a few minutes, she felt as though nothing else in the world mattered.
But as she soared, Brooklyn wasn't alone on the pitch.
From the far side, she noticed a figure standing in the shadows, watching her intently. It was Charlie Weasley. The Gryffindor Quidditch captain and one of her best friend's older brothers. Brooklyn's heart skipped a beat as she realized he had caught her.
She pulled the broom into a swift descent and landed gracefully near him, trying to look casual despite the surge of adrenaline. "Sorry, Charlie. Didn't mean to cause any trouble," she said, hopping off the broom and giving him an apologetic look.
Charlie raised a hand, stopping her before she could say more. "Hold on a minute," he said, his voice calm but curious. "How long have you been flying?"
Brooklyn hesitated, biting her lip. "Well, I had a practice broom when I was little, but this is the first time I've been on a broom outside of Madam Hooch's flying lessons."
Charlie raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Wait, you've never flown on a real broom before?"
Brooklyn shook her head. "No, I've never had the chance. But I always watched the games from the stands and dreamed of playing."
Charlie was silent for a moment, clearly processing this new information. Finally, he nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "You've got real talent, Brooklyn. For someone who's only just picked up a broom outside of a lesson, you've got incredible natural skill."
Brooklyn felt her cheeks warm at the compliment. "Thanks. I—well, I've been reading a lot about Quidditch but never really flown much. I really want to be a Chaser on the team next year when I'm old enough to try out."
A flicker of surprise crossed Charlie's face, but it quickly turned to determination. "Chaser, huh? Well, you've got the drive, I'll give you that. But... I can't let you on the team yet. You're too young." He paused, then grinned. "But I've got an idea. You're going to train with me."
Brooklyn's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"
Charlie pulled a Quaffle from his bag, tossing it to her. "You've got the talent. I can see that. But you need to hone your skills if you're going to make the team next year. I'll help you get there."
Brooklyn caught the Quaffle with ease, feeling a rush of excitement flood through her. "You mean you'll actually train me?"
"Of course," Charlie said with a grin. "You've got potential. But next year, I want you to be unstoppable. I'll teach you everything you need to know."
Brooklyn couldn't contain her smile. This was her chance—her chance to show everyone, including herself, that she was more than just a dreamer. She was going to be a force to be reckoned with on the pitch.
Charlie clapped his hands together, looking more serious now. "Alright, show me what you can do. Let's see your moves."
With a deep breath, Brooklyn mounted the broom again and kicked off into the air, feeling the Quaffle firmly gripped in her hand. She took to the pitch with ease, weaving around the goalposts, faking left before darting right. She could feel the rhythm, the motion of the game, in her blood.
She fired the Quaffle through an imaginary hoop with precise aim, landing back on the ground beside Charlie.
He was silent for a moment, eyes wide. "That was... amazing. I can't believe how good you are. You're like a natural."
Brooklyn grinned, feeling the exhilaration of the practice. "Thanks, Charlie. I've got a lot to learn, though."
Charlie nodded, his expression turning serious. "You do. But you've got the foundation already. I'll help you build on it. You've got everything it takes to be the best."
The weight of his words settled in Brooklyn's chest, and for the first time, she truly believed that she could achieve her dream. With Charlie's guidance, she would become the best Chaser Gryffindor—or even England—had ever seen.
Charlie clapped her on the back as she landed beside him. "Alright, kid. We've got a lot of work to do. But trust me, next year, no one will even come close to you."
Brooklyn felt her heart swell with pride. She was going to make it. Griffindor would have their star Chaser next year—and she was going to be unstoppable.
It was the day of the first Quidditch match of the year, and the excitement was palpable. The Gryffindor team was about to face off against Hufflepuff, and the entire school was buzzing with anticipation. For the five new first years—Brooklyn, Fred, George, Angelina, and Lee—it was their first chance to see a live game, and they were all absolutely thrilled.
The group, led by the ever-enthusiastic twins, had spent the entire morning getting ready for the match. Fred and George had taken their usual prankster flair to the next level, painting their faces with bold Gryffindor colors. They also made sure Brooklyn, Angelina, and Lee were properly "dressed" for the occasion, dabbing bright red and gold paint across their faces with a mischievous grin. Brooklyn, though more reserved than the twins, couldn't help but smile as she looked in the mirror. It was hard not to feel a part of the team when her face was decorated with such enthusiasm.
"Ready to cheer on your future teammates?" Fred asked with a wink, handing her a red-and-gold banner to wave.
"Guess so," Brooklyn replied, grinning. "I'll try not to embarrass myself too much."
As the group made their way to the stands, they could already see the Gryffindor team warming up on the pitch. Charlie, their brother and the team's Seeker, was practicing with his broom, darting through the air with incredible speed. Oliver Wood, the Keeper, was blocking practice shots from the Chasers. The rest of the team- the Chasers and the Beaters—were working in perfect coordination, preparing for the real action.
The stands were packed, but the five first years found a spot together, close enough to the action to get a clear view of the game.
"I can't believe this is really happening," Lee said, wide-eyed as he gazed down at the pitch. "I've listened to every game on the radio at home, but seeing it in person? Unbelievable."
Angelina leaned forward, her gaze fixed on Charlie. "He's so good," she murmured, almost reverently. "I can't wait to see him in action."
"I'll be just as good one day," Fred said with a smirk, nudging George. "You'll see."
"Same here," George added, his eyes twinkling. "We'll be Beaters next year, no problem."
Brooklyn laughed softly. "You two? Beaters? Are you sure you won't accidentally knock each other out of the sky?"
Fred threw an arm around her. "Not a chance, Brooklyn. We've got this in the bag. You'll see."
Charlie had caught sight of his siblings and the group in the stands, and he waved enthusiastically before diving into his warm-up routine. Brooklyn, still adjusting to the idea that her best friends' brother was one of the stars of the game, couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. She leaned forward, her eyes never leaving him as the match began.
The whistle blew, and the game started with a burst of energy. The Gryffindor Chasers shot through the air with incredible speed, sending the Quaffle back and forth in perfect coordination. Brooklyn watched closely, already envisioning herself among them one day. She cheered loudly when one of the girls scored a stunning goal to keep the Hufflepuff team at bay.
As the game wore on, Fred and George continued to whisper and nudge each other, always scheming for what was to come.
"Next year, you're going to try out for Chaser, right?" Fred asked, leaning toward Brooklyn as the Hufflepuff team tried to regroup.
Brooklyn nodded. "Definitely. It's been my dream to be on the team since I was little."
Angelina chimed in, a confident smile on her face. "Same here. I've been practicing with the Quaffle whenever I can."
"And Lee's going to be the Keeper," George added with a mischievous grin. "He's got the reflexes for it."
Lee looked a bit unsure, but he nodded. "I hope so. I think I can do it."
As the game continued, Brooklyn couldn't take her eyes off the pitch. The pace of the game, the thrill of the plays, and the team's teamwork—it was everything she'd dreamed of and more. But more than that, it felt like home.
"Charlie's amazing," she said to no one in particular, her voice full of awe. "I want to be just like him one day."
Fred and George exchanged a look and grinned.
"You will be," Fred said. "But don't think you can replace us as Beaters."
Brooklyn laughed, her heart swelling with excitement and ambition. This was just the beginning. Next year, she'd be on the team, and the five of them—the Crimson Terrors—would be unstoppable. The match went on, but Brooklyn couldn't help but think of the future: her future as a Chaser, playing alongside her best friends.
As the fall semester continued, Brooklyn found herself spending more and more time on the Quidditch pitch. While the rest of the first years focused on their studies and getting used to their new lives at Hogwarts, Brooklyn's days often ended with broomstick practice. Charlie had become her secret mentor, pushing her to refine her skills, and she was determined to be ready for next year's tryouts.
The first few training sessions had been grueling—Brooklyn struggled with the coordination required to maneuver the Quaffle while dodging Bludgers. But Charlie was patient, offering advice that ranged from simple tips on her grip to advanced maneuvers to increase her speed. She had a natural talent, he said, but she still had a lot to learn if she wanted to truly shine.
"I'm impressed, Brooklyn," Charlie would tell her after every practice. "You've got the talent, but you need to trust your instincts. Get comfortable with the speed, and then let the rest fall into place."
It wasn't just the technical aspects of Quidditch that Brooklyn loved—it was the feeling of freedom. She could lose herself in the wind, the rush of the game, the adrenaline. When she was on her broom, it was as if nothing else mattered.
One afternoon, after another successful session where she'd managed to make a near-perfect pass to Charlie, she dropped to the ground, exhausted but elated.
"That's it for today?" she asked, wiping sweat from her brow.
Charlie grinned. "That's enough for now. You've made great progress, Brooklyn. But we'll have to keep working on your maneuvering. You're almost there."
Brooklyn nodded, her heart racing with excitement. "I can't wait until next year."
It was then that McGonagall appeared, walking briskly across the pitch. Brooklyn's heart skipped a beat. She knew she wasn't supposed to be practicing so much, especially since first years weren't allowed to be on the team.
"Professor McGonagall," Charlie greeted her, giving her a respectful nod. "What brings you here?"
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, her stern expression betraying no hint of amusement. She crossed her arms as she studied Brooklyn. "I've heard some rumors, Mr. Weasley. About training a first-year."
Brooklyn's stomach sank. She had no idea how McGonagall had found out, but she could already feel the weight of her impending punishment.
"I—uh—Professor," Brooklyn began, standing awkwardly. "I didn't mean to break any rules. It's just that—"
"Don't worry, Miss Mclair," McGonagall interrupted. "I'm not here to scold you."
Brooklyn blinked in confusion.
"I've heard about your potential from Mr. Weasley. You've got talent," McGonagall continued, her tone softening. "You may not be able to join the team this year, but that doesn't mean you can't train." She paused, looking at Charlie. "I'm inclined to bend the rules in this case. But I expect you to be ready for next year's tryouts, Miss Mclair."
Brooklyn stared at her in shock. "Wait—what?"
McGonagall gave a small, approving nod. "You'll have to keep the training sessions a secret. Officially, first years can't be involved in team practices, but I don't see any harm in you getting a head start, as long as you keep things quiet. Just make sure you don't get in trouble, and I'll allow it. Besides, you've already got Mr. Weasley's full support."
Charlie's smile stretched wider. "I told you she's got it in her, Professor."
McGonagall's lips twitched slightly. "I'm sure she does. But let's be clear—next year, the tryouts are competitive, and I expect everyone to earn their place fairly. Understood?"
"Absolutely," Brooklyn replied, her voice full of determination.
McGonagall's expression softened, almost as if she were secretly pleased by Brooklyn's ambition. "Good. Keep up the good work. And remember—don't let anyone catch you. We don't want to make a public spectacle of this."
With a final, almost imperceptible smile, McGonagall turned and left the pitch, her heavy robes sweeping behind her. Brooklyn and Charlie stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened.
"I can't believe she's actually going to let this happen," Brooklyn said, grinning.
Charlie chuckled. "You've got talent, Brooklyn. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. Just make sure you keep practicing—and keep your head down. We don't want anyone getting the wrong idea."
Brooklyn felt a rush of excitement and gratitude. McGonagall's approval meant the world to her, and now she had official permission to continue her training. "Thanks, Charlie. I won't let you down."
He gave her a mock salute. "I'm counting on it. Now, let's get back to work. We've got a lot to do if you're going to make an impact next year."
And so, with McGonagall's surprising blessing, Brooklyn's secret training continued. She and Charlie spent the rest of the fall working on her skills. The twins would often join them for some fun practice drills, and they'd all laugh and joke as they honed their skills. It wasn't just about Quidditch—it was about friendship, ambition, and the thrill of knowing that Brooklyn was one step closer to her dream.
The Gryffindor team had no idea that next year, they would have a new contender for the Chaser spot—someone who, with a little help, would become one of the best players to ever take to the skies. But Brooklyn was ready, and nothing was going to stop her from reaching her goal.