Chapter 4

“Miss Finnigan!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, Professor,” Siobhan apologized profusely as Professor Happyfeather picked herself up, dusting herself off and scowling.

“Do watch where you’re going in the future, you’d do us all a favor,” the Professor said coolly, walking off in a huff.

Siobhan looked morose. “Cheer up,” Al said, trying not to laugh. “You didn’t mean to run smack into the scary Head of Slytherin house whom was about this close to blasting you into oblivion with her wand. Listen, I really don’t want to be late, can we go now?”

Siobhan laughed a little, hitching her book bag onto her shoulder. The two hurried along the corridor from the Great Hall. Lysander had gone back to the tower to get his cloak with Rosie. Al had been on tenterhooks all morning after reading the announcement on the billboard; flying lessons with the Slytherins that day. He was nervously excited to get on a broom; his dad had taught him how to fly somewhat, but it was different here. He was afraid that he wasn’t going to be any good.

“You don’t need to worry, you know,” Siobhan said reassuringly. “Your dad was brilliant at Quidditch, right?”

“Yeah,” Al admitted. “So was my mum. But James isn’t that good. He thinks he is, but he didn’t get on the team last year.”

“So, there’s a chance you’ll be good. Besides, Hagrid said you take after your father’s side.”

“I just hope I don’t look like an idiot in front of our class, and the Slytherins, too,” Al said glumly.

They reached the lawn and walked down across the grass. Wispy clouds floated across a pale sky on a crisp fall afternoon; Al tried to gauge conditions as his dad had taught him. Seemed pretty good, with minimal wind and some cloud to block possible glare from the sun.

Al saw the two house classes ahead of him; it was as if there was a line drawn on the grass, with the Slytherins on the right, and the Gryffindors staying well away on the left. There were some Slytherins Al was familiar with; Stanley and Moon led the crew, it seemed, with sidekicks like Parker. They were always smirking at the Gryffindors, acting both superior and sinister. Lysander had dismissed them, but they made Al nervous.

“Everyone step up to the left side of a broom!” Madam Hooch, the middle-aged Quidditch coach, called to the class as she walked smartly up to them.

The students did so, jostling each other to get the better broom. Al’s broom didn’t look too banged up, to his relief. James had gone on and on last summer how horrible the school brooms were in an effort to get their dad to buy him a broom. Dad had told him that he didn’t need his own broom, and could use the family broom or school broom, unless he was on the Quidditch team. James had whined about biased team captains and lack of foresight in James' potential as a Seeker, but Dad wouldn’t budge, not even when James complained that all the cool kids had their own brooms. Al smirked a little at the memory.

“Now everyone, remember that we aren’t going to be flying higher then a few feet for our first little test flight. Everyone stick your right hand over your broomstick and command ‘Up!’”

Everyone did so. Al was thrilled when his broom leapt into his hands. Rosie’s broom took a little coaxing, and Lysander’s refused point-blank. Al thought that Lysander’s attempt at reasoning with the broom might not be helping things. Siobhan very cautiously put her hand over the broom and stuttered her command; her broom flew up viciously and narrowly missed whacking her in the head. She knocked it down with her foot, clearly terrified.

“Relax,” Al said kindly. “It’s just a broom. You’ll be fine, just relax.”

Madame Hooch instructed them to mount their brooms and watch their grip. Walking among the students, offering criticism, Hooch nodded at Al’s grip and seat.

“You sit exactly like your father did,” Hooch said approvingly.

Al was secretly thrilled to hear this, but kept his facial expression modest.

Hooch told them all to practice kicking off from the ground. The result was fairly disastrous with half the class; Al hovered above the ground, watching the havoc.

Siobhan accidentally accelerated into Malfoy and knocked him to the ground, whacking McLaggen and the girl next to him with her broom. Meanwhile several people were spinning around, sliding off their broom and jerking about, clearly not in control. Al sat on his broom, the eye of the storm. Next to him Lysander was trying to climb back on his broom.

“How are you doing that?” Lys demanded.

“I’m just sitting here,” Al said, perplexed.

Lysander shook his head, cursing as his broom slipped away from him again, causing him to chase after it.

Hooch was busy grabbing at the hem of Siobhan’s robe as her broom starting bucking and speeding around in the chaos. When Siobhan rose higher and higher in the air, out of control, Al decided it was time to step in.

He leaned forward automatically, speeding after her wild broom. The air flew around his hair and he kept his seat easily, accelerating after Siobhan. Her broom dropped abruptly and Al did a quick dive and turn, trying to catch up with her.

She flew back down towards the ground, spinning crazily and ducking around the kids. Al flew after her, diving underneath Victoria Stanley sitting on her broom, lifting off again to fly over the heads of the kids. He spotted Siobhan about twenty feet in the air, all but dangling from her broom.

He zoomed after her, filled with exhilaration, and got to her just as she was going to fall, and pulled her onto his broom. He grabbed the rogue broom with one hand and carried it back to the ground. Several students were watching them as Al helped her off at the ground.

“Siobhan, I'm sorry but I gotta say, I’m pretty sure you should stay away from brooms from now on,” he said, helping her off his broom.

“That was brilliant, Al!” Lysander called, and the other students hooted and clapped. Al went a little red, getting off his broom and putting it over his shoulder. Most of the students were back on the ground and order restored. Hooch approached him, her expression strange.

“You’re reminiscent of your father’s flying,” she told him. “I think I’ll talk to Sprout about letting you try out for Seeker. It hasn’t been done in, oh, two decades at least, nearly three. But you, boy, are good, and Gryffindor needs a good seeker. We haven’t had a good one in years.” Hooch nodded, walking back to the class, clearly deep in thought.

Al was happy she thought he was just like his dad, and beyond excited that she thought he ought to try out for the team! His dad had done the same thing at his age; beating all odds, becoming the Gryffindor seeker at age eleven and staying on until he left Hogwarts. Al thought his dad was brilliant and really wanted to pull the same feat as he did.

Lysander and Rosie approached him, excited expressions. “What did she say?”

Al told them proudly, “Hooch thinks I ought to try out for the Quidditch team. She’s speaking to the Headmistress about letting me try!”

They congratulated him, thrilled. Lysander said, “You must be the youngest ever since-”

“Since my dad, I think,” Al said.

“Wow! That’s so cool. Hey, wait until James hears about this! He’ll be so mad that his brother is better at him at flying!” Rosie grinned, nudging him gleefully.

“Yeah,” Al said, feeling encouraged. “Yeah, he will be!”

Siobhan trotted up to them. “Hooch reckons I’ve had enough of flying,” she told them. “So I’m excused from future lessons. Congrats, by the way, Al.”

Al smiled at her shyly.

* * *

After finishing a scrumptious dinner in the Great Hall, Al was sitting waiting for Lysander to finish when someone sat down next to him and tapped his shoulder. It was Declan Williams again.

“So I hear you’re invited to try out for Seeker,” Declan said.

“Really? I’m invited? I didn’t know Hooch asked Sprout yet!” Al said excitedly, before making himself calm down. He looked at Williams suspiciously. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m one of the beaters on the team,” he said. “I hear you’ve got talent. Harry Potter was said to be a brilliant seeker, that could’ve played professionally. Your bro doesn’t have his talent; let’s hope you do.”

“Thanks, mate,” Al said. “You’ll have to see at try-outs, apparently.”

Williams nodded coolly and got up. “Have a good one, Siobhan,” he tossed casually across the table before walking away. Siobhan, for once, didn’t go bright red at being addressed by the suave older student. Al was glad she wasn’t as nervous now.

Then Siobhan accidentally knocked the platter of tart over and splattered the table, going red when everyone exclaimed irritably. Well, it was improved, he allowed wryly.

Not a minute after Williams had left, Professor Jones approached him. “Hello, Potter, I’m Professor Jones,”

“Yeah, I know. Hi, Professor,” Al responded.

“I’m to notify you that you have been given special permission to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Apparently you made quite the impression on Madam Hooch, and, well-” Professor Jones leaned a little closer and said quietly, “We could really use the talent, Potter.”

“I understand, Professor,” Al said with a wide grin. He had of course already been informed he was being invited to try out, but it was that much better being informed personally by his Head of House. Professor Jones gave him a little smile before walking back to the High Table.

“It’s been reaffirmed; I’m officially invited to try out,” Al announced to Lysander, Rosie, and Siobhan. They congratulated him, and he grinned to himself, feeling really good.

“You’ll have to get yourself a broom, mate,” Lysander said, nudging him with his elbow. “Can’t play on those ancient Cleansweeps the school offers.”

“I haven’t even gotten on the team yet,” Al said, beaming anyway. “Reckon my parents will send me one?”

“Oh, definitely. They were both Quidditch stars, after all,” Rosie said. “They’ll want to promote your playing. Your mum actually played in the league, too.”

Just then a loud voice spoke out over Al’s shoulder. “All right, bro?”

It was James, smirking and flanked by his friends. Al couldn’t be more thrilled. “Hey, James. Did you hear the good news already?”

James’ smirk faltered. “Good news? What are you talking about?”

Lysander burst out, “The good news that he’s better then you at flying, James.”

James scowled at him. “Shut it, firstie.” He addressed Al. “You actually think you’re better then me, bro? What did you do, manage to not fall off on your first flying lesson? Firsties, they all think they’re so great,” James said to his friends, snickering.

“Yes,” Al said. "I also managed to get invited to try out for Seeker.” The snickering stopped at once. James was stunned.

“You got invited to try out? You’re lying! Firsties never get on the team. Last one to do it was a few decades ago.”

“Yeah, it was dad,” Al said, reveling in his power over James. “They reckon I’ve got dad’s skill at Quidditch.”

James recovered. “I can’t wait to watch this. You’ll get turned down so fast your head will be spinning.”

“What was it you said when they turned you down last year, James?” Al said loudly. “That they were all biased and lacked foresight in regards to your so-called talent? You don’t even own a broom.”

James looked whiny. “You don’t have a broom either.”

“Yeah, but they’ll get me one if I get on the team,” Al said.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” James scoffed, turning on his heel, his friends following him hesitantly.

Al turned back to the table, feeling a mix of victory and dread. If he didn’t make the team after all this fuss, everyone would be making fun of the firstie that thought he’d try Quidditch and failed miserably.

* * *

Al found himself walking back to Gryffindor Tower by himself that evening. Rosie was in the library, and Siobhan was with her; Lysander was sending a letter up in the owlery. Al was fairly tired from the day’s work; all the flying and Quidditch drama. He planned to write his parents all about it later on.

It had been almost a fortnight since Al had arrived at Hogwarts, and he couldn’t believe how time flew by. He was almost floating on air, happy. His life at home had always been fun and interesting, so Al had expected Hogwarts couldn’t measure up. He was pleasantly surprised that it could.

Just as he passed the tapestry that Declan Williams had taken them through on the way to the Great Hall that day, he heard noises behind it and stopped. Several thumps and the sound of a boy crying out in pain came through the tapestry, muffled. Al pulled aside the tapestry without a second thought and came upon a shocking scene.

Scorpius Malfoy’s arms were being held behind his back by a boy while another boy punched him in the stomach, and a girl stood on watching coldly. Al recognized them instantly; it was Victoria Stanley, Jared Moon and Lionel Parker. They were Slytherins. Just as Al arrived, Jared growled, “This’ll teach you, blood traitor,” and punched him in the nose. Blood spurted from Malfoy’s nose all over his pale, bruised face.

Al leapt at Jared without hesitation, knocking him down to the stone corridor. Al could hear Victoria shrieking and running off as he jumped up and tore Lionel’s arms off of around Malfoy. Malfoy shoved Lionel and Jared staggered up, also bleeding. Al knocked him over again. James had been wrestling with Al since they were about four, so he had no difficulty. In a moment of inspiration, Al pulled his wand out of his pocket and brandished it at the two Slytherins.

“I can use this,” Al said threateningly.

They laughed uneasily. “Yeah right. You don’t know any magic to hurt us!”

Al raised his wand and they flinched. “Yes I do,” he said. “Haven’t you heard of my skill in Transfiguration? I could transfigure your fingers into needles!”

Jared muttered to Lionel, “Come on,” and they left. Victoria had high-tailed it out of there already. Al touched his face, realizing he had been cut too, wiping away blood. He turned to Malfoy, who was mopping his bloody nose.

“I didn’t need your help,” Malfoy muttered rebelliously. “I was just fine by myself.”

“I reckon that’s broken,” Al said, gesturing to his nose. “You ought to go to hospital wing.”

“I’ll be fine,” Malfoy snapped. After a pause, Al shrugged and started to walk back to the tapestry and back to the main corridor.

Then Malfoy cleared his throat. Al stopped and turned. Looking extremely awkward, Malfoy said, “Listen, uh… that was decent of you.”

Al shrugged, looking down at the stone, and decided to ignore the complete about-face and not embarrass Malfoy more. “Let’s get to the tower, curfew’s coming up.”

Malfoy and Al walked back to Gryffindor tower silently. Finally Al asked, “Why were they beating you up?”

Malfoy didn’t look at him and said flatly, “It’s that hard for you to work out?”

“Uh, no, well…” Al cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, I heard them say you were a, well, you know.”

“Blood traitor,” Malfoy finished. “Yeah.”

“Well, um,” Al mumbled. He swung his arms as he walked, noticing he had blood on his knuckles. He hastily wiped his hand on his robes.

“My parents were happy,” Malfoy said quietly. “They don’t care what house I’m in.”

“That’s great,” Al said awkwardly.

They arrived at the Fat Lady’s portrait, looking at each other awkwardly for a moment. “This doesn’t change things, alright, Potter?”

“Not a thing,” Al agreed.

“Because I still can’t stand you,”

“Neither can I.”

“Good,” Malfoy said, relieved. He said the password and the portrait swung open. He pushed Al, saying, “Get out of the way, Potter. We’re not all going to give you priority passing just because you can use a wand in Transfiguration.”

Al pushed him back, saying, “Stop being a prick, Malfoy.”

It was good to get out of that touchy-feely zone; Al was entirely uncomfortable to go there with Scorpius Malfoy, of all people.

* * *

A few days later found Al pulling on his robes on a weekend morning, more anxious then he thought he’d ever been before in his life. Going to Hogwarts could not top this. His first flying lesson was absolutely nothing in comparison. Even the time when he was five and he’d stolen James’ toy broom- and lost it- wasn’t as bad as this feeling was.

“You’ll do great today, Al!” Louis said cheerfully from the doorway. “You’re definitely gonna get Seeker. I heard who all is trying out and you are definitely getting on the team.”

Al patted Louis’ shoulder. “Thanks, mate.”

Lysander called, “Hurry up, Seeker-firstie. This was a really bad day to sleep in.”

“Hey, give me a break, I only slept in by ten minutes,” Al said defensively, following him down the stairs.

In the common room, Rosie and Siobhan stood up when he came in. “You’ll be great, don’t worry. You’ll definitely get on the team,” Rosie assured him as the group walked out the portrait hole.

Al was glad his friends were coming to watch him, because he was starting to feel almost sick.

He was sure he was going to fall off his broom. Or he’d crash into the stands. He wouldn’t be able to make his broom get off the ground- or, worse case scenario, he’d do badly and James would get on the team instead of him.

Al shouldered the school Cleansweep as they walked out towards the Quidditch pitch. Al could see figures flying already and felt even worse that he’d slept in; would he look like he thought he was better then everyone else because he didn’t need to turn up on time?

“We’ll be cheering you on!” Rosie called as she, Lysander, Siobhan and Louis made their way to the stands. Al went into the change room and changed hurriedly before running out onto the pitch. The captain, a boy he didn’t know from fifth year, was whistling for everyone to land and come in. Al could see James jostling people. Everyone stood around in front of the captain while he ordered them about.

“Seekers, line up here, we’ll try you first. Keepers, beaters, and chasers, wait on the bench.”

Al got in line behind five or six other kids. James was right ahead of him, and turned to glance at Al. “Good luck, bro.”

Al wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not, so he didn’t answer.

Two of the tryouts were so bad they could hardly maneuver their brooms. One, a girl, squealed when she saw the snitch and sped up, smashing into the goalpost. Al was next.

“Listen, just fly up there, do a lap or two, let me see how you fly. Then I’ll release the snitch and you have to try and catch it quickly,” the captain told him. “Good luck. Go!”

Al kicked off and flew high up into the air, his very insides soaring in joy. He did a loop and flew around the stadium, loving the air that blasted him as he went speeding by.

He dived in the wind, pulling up abruptly and banking to the left, the broom moving easily to his commands. He could tell it wasn’t a very good broom; it had a slight list and wasn’t as responsive as he wished, nor as fast.

Al heard the captain shout that he was releasing the snitch. Al turned and sped back to where the captain stood, searching for the Snitch. He dived and pulled up and flew around, eyes scanning the air.

All of a sudden, he caught a glimpse of gold in his peripheral vision and didn’t hesitate, responding purely by instinct. He could see the Snitch speeding away from him as he plummeted towards the ground- it was closer- so close- he snatched out his hand and with a cry of victory, grabbed the snitch in his palm, and pulled his broom up as hard as he could, saving himself after a dangerous plummet.

 He flew along the ground, slowing himself down, and stopped in front of the captain, holding the snitch tightly in his hand.

Al could hear the people in the stands applauding him and felt pleased. He was completely exhilarated; there was nothing, not a thing, that was better than flying.

“That was impressive,” the captain said, his expression contained, taking the snitch from him. “Next!”

Al went to sit on the bench, waiting and watching the other seekers try out. One of the beaters leaned forward to Al’s bench and said, “That was a brilliant dive. You might actually get it, firstie.” Al turned to see who it was and recognized Declan Williams instantly. Declan sat back down, his expression curious. Al turned back around to watch James try out.

James wasn’t terrible; he wasn’t as good as flying as he was, Al thought. James was a little shaky and didn’t try any loops or dives. He did manage to catch the snitch after around eight minutes, which was better then most of the others had done.

Al was fairly confident until the last boy stepped up to fly. He walked out onto the pitch with confidence, and shot into the air with obvious practice. Al had a sinking feeling when the boy flew by; he obviously knew what he was doing. Al was comforted after the boy caught the snitch after being in the air four minutes that he hadn’t done any diving.

The potential seekers gathered about the captain, waiting to hear his verdict. The captain held his clipboard, and looked at them with steely eyes.

“This was actually a difficult choice. Two of you were exceptionally good. I feel quite good with my verdict on this, however. To my surprise and, doubtless, everyone else’s, Albus Potter out-flew the opposition with some excellent moves- superb diving- and a very quick catch time.” The other boys groaned while Al felt a huge rising of happiness inside. “Drew, sorry, I know you’ve been seeker for years, but you’ll have to settle for reserve this year,” the captain told the other boy that had flown well.

The boy, Drew, shrugged. “Good on you, Potter,” he told Al.

“Thanks,” Al said.

James walked up to him, looking like he was suffering from dragon pox by his expression. Al looked around nervously.

“Well,” James said finally. “Reckon you’ll let me borrow your broom?”

“Course I will, bro,” Al assured him, relieved that James wasn't angry. “What broom do you reckon mum and dad will get me?”

“You should ask for dad’s Firebolt 701,” James said mischievously.

“Nah, I couldn’t do that,” Al said. “That’s his favorite. Besides, it’s kinda old. I want a new one.”

“They won’t get you anything too expensive, you know,” James countered. “They’ll want you to appreciate a new broom and all that.”

“I don’t know why,” Al grumbled. “It's not like we can't afford the best.”

“Well, maybe they’ll get you something awesome, who knows,” James said, grabbing Al into a headlock and ruffling his black hair.

“Argh, James, get off,” Al wrestled away from him.

James grinned at him and punched his shoulder. “See you later, Al.”

Al went back to the bench. The captain, overseeing the Chasers, approached him. “I’m Tim Orion. Call me Captain or Orion or whatever. Listen, here’s the practice schedule, mind you don't miss them-” Orion pushed some parchment into his hands. “And Albus, you’re gonna have to get yourself a broom. That won’t be an issue, will it?”

“Not with my parents, mate,” Al said, grinning.

“Good to hear. Get back to the bench, now, don’t want to get hit by a stray Quaffle. Once the team's been picked we'll all fly together.” Al obeyed.

Almost an hour later, the remainder of the team had been picked. Declan Williams had been made one of the two beaters; Al wasn’t familiar with anyone else on the team. There were two girls that made it as well; one was a chaser and one was the keeper.

Orion had them fly together and play a mock game, to see how they all worked together. When they were done, Al had caught and re-caught the snitch six times. From what Al could see, the chasers- including Orion- worked together flawlessly, and the beaters were an excellent duo. Their keeper had saved all goals and done it well. Orion was pleased with their progress and told them they could go get changed.

* * *

z88;

Al tossed the school broom into the run-down broom shed that was under a set of stands, hoping he would have is own broom soon and wouldn't need to use it again.

The Quidditch pitch was completely empty as Al wandered onto it, not wanting to go back to the castle just yet. He looked around at the empty stands, picturing them filled with screaming Quidditch fans. He could almost hear the sound of the commentator crying his name as he caught the Snitch- he could almost hear the cries of 'Gryffindor wins!' and the faces of his friends cheering wildly.

Al smiled a little and started to walk off the pitch. He couldn't wait to play his first game. Before that, however, he needed to write his parents; it's not like the Quidditch Cup could be won riding a mouldy old Cleansweep Seven.