The Gryffindor Common Room was surprisingly crowded as James stepped over a pair of first years who had sprawled themselves across the ground, the game Exploding Snap occupying their minds. He chuckled to himself, striding over towards the message board that took over half of the west wall, papers advertising all sorts of things, such as lost possessions, or invites to a club who's popularity would last for approximately a week.
Shaking his head, James let his eyes wander across the cork board, looking for an unoccupied space. Finding nothing, he offered a shrug, and tacked up his own poster with no regard for the others. It wasn't his problem that his was so unneccessarily large.
His poster advertised the most important activity in all of Hogwarts (and to be fair, the Wizarding Community). Having been named Captain this year, it was his job to try to fill the newly vacated positon of Beater. He had been sorry to hear Darren Spencer, his team-mate, being forcibly removed from the team due to an over-protective step-mother. Spencer had come to him with the news, tears formed in the corner of his eyes. It was a sad, sad thing, being denied the right of Quidditch.
Brushing off his hands on his pants, he observed the poster. It was bright and flashy, sporting red and gold appropriately. He had had a fourth year girl make it. Her best friend, Karen something-or-other, had approached him, weilding a story of this shy, very talented artist. Hesitantly, he had followed the fourth year's advice, and had not been dissapointed with what had been given to him.
The sound of footsteps coming up behind him pulled him from his reverie. He turned to see Nate striding over, a jubliant grin lifting the corners of his mouth. Behind him followed his younger brother, Brian, looking slightly harrassed; his usually pale complexion a bright scarlet.
"What happened to him?" James questioned, folding his arms across his chest while mirth flickered obviously in his emerald eyes.
Brian looked to the floor, muttering something about 'saying the wrong thing.. Lily..', before heading off in the opposite direction towards his fellow fifth years.
"Lily took a bite from him, then?" he asked, turning his attention to Nate, who was observing the shining poster imposing the board.
"So I'm thinking," he responded, before waving at the sign. "What's this about replacing our Beater? Has Spencer or Moonwater been in an accident?"
James placed an arm around Nate's shoulders, leading him away from the message board. Nate was every bit involved in anything James did when it came to Quidditch. He, like his father had, Ron Weasley, took the position of Keeper. From what he knew, James knew that the position of Captain had been between them and had been a large struggle to decide who deserved the position. In fact, James felt a little sorry for Nate, as he had been Gryffindor prefect along with Lily, (something James had absolutely no desire to be, not that the idea of him being prefect had ever been entertained) but had been denied the right of Head Boy. Honestly, he didn't know where McGonagall got off, giving the title to Malfoy. Perhaps for the drama with Lily, as they certainly were a comical pair.
"Mr. Spencer, Darren's father, as you know, has recently re-married to a very young, very voluptuous, very simple-minded woman. It seems someone has fed her the idea that playing Quidditch could be dangerous." He shook his head, falling into an over-stuffed armchair near the fire.
Nate fell into an opposite couch, spreading his long limbs out. "And we need a replacement," he followed.
"A Beater replacement," agreed James.
"In December."
"Quite so."
"Bloody hell. You know tryouts are going to be horrible," said Nate irritably, rubbing at his eyes as he leaned into the cushion. "Every idiot with a broom will show up, and the likeliness that we'll find someone decent.. and Spencer being as incrediable as he is.."
Nate paused, finishing with a, "Damn."
"Damn," James agreed.
Tryouts were just as Nate had predicted. The weather was completely foul - a mixture of ice, snow, and rain falling at unexpected intervals. Nearly all of the Gryffindor common room had shown up, all different sizes,shapes, and colours, and none of them nearly good enough.
James had sent two of his Chasers to the skies, flying around rather slowly by now, heavy with water. The third Chaser, himself, stood down on the pitch with Nate and the rest of the team. One after the other, he sent one of the eager participants up with a bludger and bat, and looked on at some of the damage they could do.
Smithers, the over-zealous disaster, was flying without any regard for the others, and nearly allowed the bludger to hit himself. After a few more moments of struggling, he dropped his bat, and it fell to the ground with a wet 'thump'.
Tweak! Tweak! Tweak!
James attempted to gain everyones attention, waving his hands in the air before finally blowing into the whistle around his neck. The roar finally depleted, many eyes turning to face him. James grimaced, looking over to Nate who held a clipboard in his hands. His friend looked far too skeptical.
"That it?" James questioned.
"That's it," he replied wearily.
James finally turned his attention to the soakened crowd, eyeing them apprehensively. Behind his turned back, he could hear the giggles of some of the seventh year girls, and the consistant sighs of Darren Spencer.
"All right, you lot!" he called, ripping the clipboard from the hands of his Co-Captain. "We've seen what you got. The team will converse later this evening, and we will base our decision on attitude, chemistry, and.. (he sighed) talent. Our choice shall be informed by tomorrow's breakfast."
One by one, the students that had shown up headed towards the changing room, their sodden robes clinging uncomfortably. James' team followed, save for Nate and Astrid Wood who stayed loyally by his side. Nate looked depressed, and ready to cry. Astrid, on the other hand, looked furious.
"Potter," she seethed, glaring up at him with her sandy curls plastered to her face. "You can't honestly let one of those gits join the team. They're all awful!"
James eyed the girl. She was fourteen, and perhaps the most dedicated Quidditch player he had every stumbled across. She, like her mother, Katie Bell, was a Chaser, though he had heard rumours that her father had pushed her towards Keeper, until he realised how well Nate did with the hoops. Like her parents, she was stunningly good at the sport. (For a girl, at least).
"We'll talk about it in the common room." His voice was dull and disappointed, and it seemed to infuriate Astrid all the more. With a huff, she spun on her heel and stomped through the mud purposely, heading towards the changing room. Nate, after sending James an apologetic glance, turned to follow as well, his head low.
With the mud up to his shins, James stood, thinking about how this day couldn't possibly get any worse.
"Hello, James," came a simpering voice from behind.
He turned to face Darla LaFolle. One of the gigglers.
A Legend Continued by Meryl Montgomery
Chapter Notes: Disclaimer - Harry Potter, and anything associated with him, belongs to J. K. Rowling.