Lost Memories

xlvii. new chaser

"That sound so complicated, why not score at a hoop?" asked Ron.

"That's a different sport," I laughed.

"I'm assuming you were the one throwing the ball, not hitting it," Harry guessed.

"Yup, and, not to toot my own horn, I was pretty good," I smiled.

"Well, keep that mentality tomorrow because you're definitely trying out for—"

"I— Harry, no, I didn't even give Profesor McGonagall my name!"

"It's alright. I did, after our first practice," Harry flew away before I could say anything, more or less throw the Quaffle at him.

When we left the Gryffindor table the next morning to head down to the Quidditch pitch, I was a ball of nerves. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I made our way down to the stadium through the cool, misty drizzle.

"I'm going to slip off my broom and die," I mumbled to Hermione.

"Good luck," she pinched me and left to the stands to watch our trial.

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. Harry made a good decision in having the basic test: 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 goalposts.

The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls I had ever encountered, who, when Harry blew his 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.

The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch.

Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks, which included me, but thankfully Ron let me borrow his Cleansweep Eleven for the flying portion and trial of the Chasers. I did as I was told and flew around the pitch multiple times. Looking down, a bad idea, I saw Ron making a circle with his finger suggesting I do a few loops he'd taught me. My stomach flipped at the height I was at, but I did two successfully loops and descended to the ground (without dying). Ron gave me a thumbs up.

After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Harry had chosen three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial; Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot; and me, as I managed to trick some of the trial Keepers who tried to save my goals. Harry had also managed to shout 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 they were pretty good: Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year boy 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 Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well. They now joined Katie and Ginny in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member.

Harry had left the trial of the Keepers until last. As each Keeper flew up to the goal hoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. Harry had me throw all the Quaffles at the Keepers claiming I'd be used to it from my muggle sport. I glanced over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves; Ron seemed to not have gotten over it, despite the Gryffindor win of our final match last term: he was a light shade of green.