“Why are we here instead of shaking down Malfoy?” Lina grumbled.
“Because he's a slimy git?” Ron tried. “Come on, you can get your bet out of Malfoy any time. But today's the only quidditch trials, and it was murder trying to get permission to watch.”
“What's the big deal, anyway?” Harry asked, looking out over the pitch. The towering stands were wrapped in fabric the colors of the four houses and blocked his view of anything beyond, save six large hoops and the odd broomstick.
“The big deal?” Ron repeated. “Harry, where in the world are you from?”
“Zephilia,” Harry answered. “It's a small kingdom north of Seyruun.”
“That somewhere in America?” Ron asked.
“Yeah sure, let's go with that,” Lina said. “So you said quidditch uses four balls?”
“Right. The quaffle, two bludgers, and the snitch. You'll get to see them all but the snitch when we get up there.”
“Why won't we see the snitch?” Harry asked.
“Because it's bloody hard to see,” Ron laughed.
They climbed one of the stands and looked out over the pitch. There were a few groups of hopefuls for the team sitting around down on the field, but no other spectators. “They don't like practice being watched much,” Ron explained. “Fred and George let us here cause you two don't know anything.”
“Humph,” Lina grumbled. “So what do Fred and George do?”
“Beaters,” Ron said. “My brother Charley was captain last year and got them on. They're not the best on their own, but they work together better than anyone.”
“Charley graduated, right?” Harry asked, thinking to what Ron had said about his family.
“Yeah. Wood's captain now. Looks like they're done with the beaters anyway, but the chasers and seeker are still up.”
“Why don't you go through it for us, starting with Wood and the beaters?” Lina asked.
“Oh, sorry. Well, the two bludgers fly around and smash into the players. The beaters have big bats and their job is to keep the bludgers away from their own team.”
“Makes sense,” Harry said with a touch of sarcasm. “No sport is complete without enchanted balls trying to bash your brains in.”
“Now you're getting it!” Ron cheered.
Harry gave Ron a look. “That was a joke.”
“Oh,” Ron said. “Um. Oh, look, the chasers are getting on with it.”
Harry and Lina looked out and saw a small swarm of students on broomsticks with a red ball being passed among them. “Well that looks...almost sane,” Lina allowed.
“There are only three chasers on a team, they're just sending out more so Wood can see 'em fly faster. That ball is called the quaffle,” Ron explained. “The chasers try and throw the quaffle through the goal hoops to score points. The keeper tries to stop them.”
Harry and Lina nodded. That part actually did make sense. Lots of sports had a setup like that. Armed with the knowledge that they were not watching wizarding lunacy, they actually enjoyed watching the tryouts. Moving the ball in three dimensions made for a varied set of tactics that was actually interesting.
Then a boy failed to pass the ball well and it sailed into the stands. Harry caught it.
“Keens!” Wood bellowed. “You're out!” The boy who missed the throw grumbled, but didn't object to the ruling as he left the field. Wood, who couldn't see the stands from below, yelled at them to get the quaffle back.
The chasers looked to Harry expectantly.
Harry knew the ball he had was enchanted; it had been way too easy to grab. He tossed it lightly to Lina. “What do you think?”
“Doesn't fall fast enough and it's like it's sticky, but it isn't,” Lina said. “Interesting enchantment.”
“Glad you approve,” one of the chasers said, impatience on her face. “But unless you plan to try out, can we have it back now?”
Lina grinned. That sounded like a challenge. She didn't really have any interest in the game, but she couldn't resist such an opportunity to show off. She deliberately sighted don to the furthest set of goal hoops. Cocking her hand back like she was holding a fireball, she swung the ball forward and let it fly.
Wood figured out that they had spectators, probably young Weasley and his friends, and was ready to give them a talking-to for delaying his tryouts. Then the quaffle sailed out of the stands. No, it shot out of them, like from a cannon. Wood had seen stronger arms, faster throws, but that was impressive from a first year. Aim was lousy, though. None of the chasers were even close. Then the quaffle sailed through the hoop over his head.
“Merlin's beard!” Wood yelped. “Who threw that!?” Not waiting for an answer he grabbed his broom and shot into the sky, recklessly swinging into a proper seating with the ease of experience rather than the proper technique Hooch insisted on whenever she was around.
The crowd of chaser-candidates parted to let their captain through and silently pointed at Lina. The proud redhead wore a satisfied smile and regarded Wood evenly. Something about her manor said she thought of him as a peer rather than an upperclassman, but Wood was willing to brush that off. “You made that shot?” he asked.
“That's right,” Lina said.
“Do you think you could make it again?” Wood asked.
“Easily,” Lina said, tone getting wary. “Why?”
“One sec,” Wood muttered, fetching his wand from his robe. “Accio quaffle!” The red ball sailed up from beyond the field where it had landed. Wood grabbed it and threw it to Lina, who caught it easily. “Prove it.” He ignored sudden murmuring from potential chasers behind him.
Lina looked at the quaffle in her hands and then back at Wood. “Why?”
“I've never seen anyone throw with that kind of aim,” Wood said. “Even without the pressure of a game, it's impressive.”
“Since when have you turned down a chance to show off, sis?” Harry asked.
Lina thought that over. “So you want a show?” she asked.
Wood smiled slightly. “If you would be so kind.”
“Okay. Levitation!” Lina enjoyed the collective gasps as she simply shot up from the stands without aid of beast or broom. She threw in a corkscrew turn for added effect and shot off over the pitch, flying laterally relative to the goal hoops. Recovering from the surprise, the players followed her on broom, easily pacing her. She blocked them out, sighted, and let the quaffle fly.
Wood was impressed by her guile. Accurate throws were twice as hard while in motion, even as slow as she was going. The quaffle bounced off the rim of the center hoop, but it bounced through the hoop. He whistled.
Lina slowed and hovered over the pitch, smiling at Wood. “Was that enough of a show?”
“Where'd you learn to throw like that?” Wood asked.
“Fireballs,” Lina answered. “And a crazy game about enchanted racquets and an exploding ball.” She blinked. Okay, in the grand scheme of things, quidditch wasn't the craziest game she'd seen.
Wood shook his head. “And you obviously have experience flying. How are you on a broom?”
“Not bad, but I haven't exactly had a chance to practice.”
“Wood, you aren't seriously considering her, are you?” a girl named Alicia Spinnet asked.
“Not for the team, but Lina I'd like to put you on the reserve roster,” Wood said, looking from Alicia to Lina.
“What would that mean?” Lina asked, suddenly suspicious.
“I was on the reserve last year,” Alicia said. “It means if a Chaser can't fly, you take his place. It also means you should attend practice matches and such.”
Lina's lips quirked. “I dunno. I mean, I don't even have my own broom.”
“Are we sure the rules say she needs a broom?” one student mumbled, looking at the girl just hanging in the air.
“I'll talk to Professor McGonagall on your behalf,” Wood promised. “I wouldn't expect much for a reserve player, but given everything we might be able to get you special permission.”
Lina grinned. Her own broomstick that she could study to her heart's content... “You get me that permission, I'll be at every practice I can,” she promised, holding out a hand.
Wood grasped it. “Then we have a deal. Now, if you'd return to your seat.” He looked around and scowled. “What are you doing!? We still need to get the lead team sorted out! Everyone not trying out, get out of the air! Accio quaffle!”
Lina flew back to the stands and landed gently in a seat. “Well, that was interesting,” she said to Ron's astonishment.
“You can fly!?” Ron gasped. “You made the reserve team? You're going to get your own broom??”
Harry slugged Lina in the shoulder. “Lucky. I'd love to get my own broom.”
“Me too,” Ron grumbled.
Lina held her shoulder and chuckled.
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(Posted Wed, 27 Jun 2012 21:16)
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