"I write her a letter
just a few short lines,
and suffer death
a thousand times."
Asteria O'Connor, sole heir of a prestigious wizarding family,
has other plans when the self-proclaimed Marauders decide to
torment her and her housemates.
It's abo...
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aster
"Line up and face me. I don't like to repeat myself so listen intently."
A group of thirty green clad hopeful Quidditch players scramble into a line before me. Some seem determined, others scared but they are all here anyways which I respect. They stand with their backs straight, hands behind them and heads held high. They range from second year all the way up.
"Not only am I creating this years team," I begin, stalking amongst the potentials, "but I am paving the way for Slytherin Quidditch even after I leave at the end of next year. I will ensure through hard work and ferocity this year, that we will not falter when the role of Captain is passed on. Today is when you prove yourself, but the next few months is when you cement yourself and create a legacy."
The group seems to stand a little taller at the words of wisdom that I had been practicing in the bathroom mirror all morning.
"I'm not going to be dealing with you all by using the same methods as last year. Nobody's spot has been reserved, even if they played on the game team. I am looking for six players for the match squad and an entire reserve team. Of course the only spot that is currently filled is mine. The bonus of being captain."
Anthony cuts in, annoyed. "Ah here, Aster. We earned those positions."
I whip around so that I'm face to face with him. "And if you still deserve them, then you will earn them again. All clear?"
"Yes captain!" shouts a chorus of voices.
"I will split you into groups depending on what position you most want to play in. I'll be flying around to see who fits where. I want to create a team that plays to their greatest abilities. This will mean picking players that not only compliment the game, but compliment each other."
"When does this girl stop talking?" mutters a spotty fifth year to his mate who doesn't even glance at him.
Without even looking to him, I spit, "Out."
I can just feel the arrogant, pompous look on his face radiating across to me. "You can't just kick me out. We haven't even started flying! Do you know who my father is?"
I turn to look at him then, eyes narrowed. "I don't care if your daddy is Salazar fucking Slytherin. If you can't respect me or the other people here who want to listen and learn, then you can leave. Go."
He looks to the friend that he arrived with and luckily, the quieter boy has more common sense. He stays put and instead stares straight ahead of him. I smirk and silently add a few brownie points to his tally of potential players in my head.
"Fuck this!" he exclaims embarrassingly. "What would a girl know about Quidditch anyway?" As he walks away he continues to hurl abuse at me. I simply stand and stare as he retreats, getting smaller and smaller. "The only thing that you'd be able to teach is how to suck cock, slut!"
