𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── ʜ.ᴊ.ᴘ

03: 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌.

"We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment," he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry's hand. "Cormac McLaggen, Keeper. Say . . . think you could introduce me to Lovewright, over there? Wouldn't mind getting on a first name basis, you know what I mean?"

Harry clenched his jaw as he felt an unfamiliar sensation in his stomach. He was jealous. But why should he be? He and Y/n hated each other. And besides, Harry was in love with someone else.

"You didn't try out last year, did you?" asked Harry, completely ignoring McLaggen's question.

"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials," said McLaggen, with something of a swagger. "Ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet."

"Right," said Harry. "Well . . . if you wait over there . . ."

He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Y/n, Hermione and Cho was sitting. He thought he saw a flicker of annoyance mixed with amusement pass over McLaggen's face and wondered whether McLaggen expected preferential treatment because they were both "old Sluggy's" favourites.

"Why is he coming here?" asked Y/n, noticing how McLaggen was walking towards where they are. "Oh merlin, he's gonna try and flirt with me!"

Harry decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. This was a good decision: The first ten was made up of first years and it could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before. Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goal posts.

The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew the whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another. Romilda Vane was amongst them. When he told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else. Y/n looked as though she was about to hex them, Harry had to bite back a laugh.

The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks. The fifth group were Hufflepuffs.

"If there's anyone else here who's not from Gryffindor," roared Harry, who was starting to get seriously annoyed," leave now, please!"

There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.

After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial; a new find called Demelza Robins, who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers; and Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot. Pleased though he was with his choices, Harry had also shouted himself hoarse at the many complainers and was now enduring a similar battle with the rejected Beaters.

"That's my final decision and if you don't get out of the way for the Keepers I'll hex you," he bellowed.

Neither of his chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of Fred and George, but he was still reasonable pleased with them: Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry's head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Richie Coote, who looked weedly but aimed well. They now joined Katie, Demelza, and Ginny in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member. Harry would never admit it out loud, but there were times where he wished that Y/n was a Gryffindor. He had seen her play as a Beater ever since they were both in their Second Years. She was the best Beater the school has ever had, besides Fred and George, and it was times like this where Harry wished she wasn't sorted into Slytherin.