The Boy: Brandon Dursely

Chapter 12: Flying

"Yes, I thought so. I repeat, Mister Flint. Dursely will be trying out for the team tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, sir? What position would he be trying out for?"

"Seeker." The Professor said plainly. The Upper Years looked aghast.

"Se-seeker? But, sir..." Verona was clearly alarmed.

"Now, Mister Verona. Haven't I taught you to not judge a book by its cover? Dursely may be unexperienced, but with a broom, the boy's possessed. I can attest to that. Let him try out tomorrow, am I understood?"

"Alright, Professor." It was Flint who answered.

"It's settled, then. Thank you, Captain Flint. Prefects. Slytherins." Snape nodded at them and turned his back while Bran followed, clearly not understanding what just happened.

Snape strode and Brandon struggled to keep up. He noticed they were now going towards the dungeons and Snape's office.

"Get in." Snape held the door for him, and again, Brandon can't help the nerves.

"Sit." Although he was in a bit of a daze, Brandon did as he was told.

"Now, I am sure that you are... confused," Snape began, "I had instructed Mister Flint to let you try out. Do not expect that you will be chosen instantly. We Slytherins value patience."

"Sir, forgive me for asking this, but what just happened? I mean..."

"I told you, didn't I? You are to try out tomorrow after class."

"For Quidditch?"

Snape looked at him and them smiled. He looked like a man with a plan, "Yes, Dursely. For Quidditch. I heard the Griffyndors let the several of their own first years to try out."

"But sir, isn't it that-"

"Yes, the rules state that first years are not allowed, but you are just trying out, aren't you? We are not sure that you will be good enough for the team."

We? Brandon stared at his Head of House. Where is this getting to?

"Of course, seeing that you love stupidity, I hope that you will be added to the team roster. I have my bets on you. If ever you do not make it, well, you can be a reserve."

Bets? Since when did Snape bet on him?

"But sir, I don't know how to play."

"I didn't expect you to. But, the blood in you tells otherwise, boy."

Blood? What blood?

"You are dismissed." Snape said, and Brandon stood. He said his parting words and returned to his friends at the Flying class area. Hermione was, as usual, reading a small book, and Draco was tossing a small golden ball.

"Bran!" Draco exclaimed.

Hermione ran to him and gave him a hug, "Bran! What did Snape say?"

He didn't say anything. Instead, he dragged them both towards the Infirmary, where Lancelot was squirming to get away from Madam Pomfrey, saying he was okay and that what he had was a panic attack, that was all. Theodore was watching the 'struggle' quietly.

Brandon stopped at the door, then cleared his throat.

"Madam Pomfrey? May we get to see Lancelot now?"

The elderly matron smiled at them, turned to Lancel who was pouting, "Yes, and please tell him that he needs the draught."

"We will, Ma'am. Thank you." The matron was kind enough to give space and privacy for the five.

"Whoa, mate. Thanks for saving me. Flying is not really a trade for me. Sorry. But you will not force me into one of those awful draught, will you?"

"I have to. You were falling and although Hooch will save you, you are impending chaos on yourself, and the same goes for the draught." Lancel looked at the others, and even Theodore was adamant to make him drink, so he did.

"Ugh, that was like dirt in my mouth! Why don't you get me out of here? I hate this place. It smells of astringent and disinfectant!" Lancelot was grimacing, which made Malfoy laugh.

"Stop grimacing, you idiot. You look like a centaur who pooped!" Lancelot now glared at the blonde.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? Where's your goons anyway? Left yah?"

"No, they're no fun anymore." Draco looked smug.

"What?! You are not a real friemd, Malfoy! You just left them, like that?"

"Oh shut up, Brockenhurst. They were not fun, and that's it!"

"What?!"

"Quit it." Hermione held a hand in front of the two. Lancelot chose to glare at Malfoy again and Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Wait for it." Theodore quipped, holding a hand, "In three, two, one." Lancelot sighed and went instantly calm.

Brandon looked at the boy in surprise. Nott looked at him silently and added, "Calming draughts take about a minute to work."

"What? I thought they work instantly!" Draco exclaimed.

"The matron administered a low lavender content Calming Draught." Brandon said, holding the bottle up.

"Alright, you are genuises. You don't need to show it off." Draco brushed it off and put his hands in his pockets.

"Hmm. Right, since Lancel's in peace now, you may now tell us what you dragged us here for, Brandon." Hermione was curious.

"Well, Snape called me and told me I could try out for the team." He tried to keep it flat as possible.

"What?! You mean for Quidditch? First years aren't allowed-" Hermione looked livid for a moment.

"Still not over his tricks, hmm?" Theodore butted in with a cluck of his tongue.

"Tricks?!" Hermione was truly scared, or something.

"I think it's a tactical game for the Professor, Bran." Theodore quipped, "He always does that, I think. Though you are the first to be in first year, he always have reserve players every year. That is why Slytherin wins the cup, seven years straight now."

Bran's eyes lighted up, "If you have a reserve player, you can train them continuosly so that they can be good, if not better, to replace those who will graduate or quit playing."

Theodore nodded, "Yes, so I think it's a good investment."

"Yeah." Bran agreed, although noting that Theodore should stop confusing them with his wierd words.

"So, what do you think about flying, Dursely?" Malfoy asked.

"The best thing yet!" Brandon looked like a child on Christmas, and Malfoy gave him a smile.

"Good! I could train you to outbest the older ones, and several tactics in outsmarting them." The blond looked so confident and Brandon shook his head.

This was going to be interesting.