All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Second Year : Quidditch

Sirius was going to kill James Potter.

It’s all his fault, he thought to himself, seething as he climbed behind the tapestry. If it weren’t for James, he would never be in this mess—would never have had to suffer the indignity that he had been made to suffer. If it weren’t for James Potter, and his stupid happy confidence, and his persistent cajoling, and his enthusiastic assurance that everything would always turn out exactly as planned, then Sirius would never, ever have gotten into this position. He curled up, alone, angry tears pricking at his eyes.

It had all started that morning, when James had dragged him out of bed an hour before the quidditch trials to go down and practice. They’d woken Remus and Peter, too, harassing the boys until they were all trudging together down to the pitch.

So Sirius was already tired by the time he was pulling on his flying kit—never mind the nervous adrenaline racing through his veins, James had made him waste all his best flying energy on that ridiculous, unnecessary, last-minute practice! And James kept whispering about how much fun it would be when they were both on the team, putting all this pressure on Sirius, like he’d be a failure if he didn’t make it.

Sirius was jittery with nerves by the time they actually headed out to the pitch for trials. The chasers were up first, and James was in top form. He swooped through the air like he’d been born to fly, executing precise turns and sharp dives that nobody else could pull off, zipping about like he was untouchable. It was clear within the first minute that he was leagues ahead of the other hopefuls trying out. When he finally landed, flushed and grinning, he shot Sirius a broad, self-satisfied smile, like they both already knew he’d make the team.

There were only three students trying out for the position of beater—a burly fifth year, Sirius, and Marlene McKinnon

Marlene was best friends with Mary—Sirius knew because Mary mentioned her all the time in Potions, and because the two were pretty much inseparable, going everywhere together. But where Mary was brash and talkative, Marlene was much more withdrawn. In fact, Sirius wasn’t sure that he’d ever actually heard her speak—it seemed as if the only sound she made was when she giggled with Mary.

So Sirius wasn’t too worried about Marlene, in terms of competition. She was so quiet and shy, he couldn’t imagine her brutally smacking around bludgers. In fact, she looked like she might cry if one even came near her.

The fifth year was much more concerning; he had at least six inches on both of them, and his arms were thick with corded muscle under the sleeves of his quidditch robes. Beaters needed to big and powerful enough to knock away the nasty bludgers, and at first glance the older student certainly seemed to fit the bill more than either Sirius or Marlene.

However, once Madam Hooch blew her whistle and sent them soaring into the sky, it quickly became clear that there was no need to be concerned about the older student. While he certainly had the build for a beater, he lacked the precision necessary for quidditch while flying. He couldn’t dodge quickly enough, and he swung his bat wildly, failing to hit anything except his own leg.

Marlene McKinnon was a different story. She was like a machine, brutally smacking away any bludger that strayed near her. Not only that, but her willowy frame lent itself to speed—she could dodge around easily, an important skill for a beater. Sirius felt his face heating in embarrassment as she flew circles around him.

It wasn’t that he was doing badly—he was almost as good as James when it came to speed, though he lacked quite the same amount of precision. He managed to smack a few bludgers away, doing altogether much better than the struggling fifth year.