Albus paced back and forth in the Quidditch room, his heart racing as the minutes ticked down to the Quidditch tryouts. He could hear the sounds of laughter and excitement echoing from the pitch, but all he felt was a knot of anxiety in his stomach. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he embarrassed himself in front of everyone, especially James?
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his broomstick nervously. "What if I mess up?" he muttered to himself, biting his lip.
He should have practiced, the thought of competing against more experienced players made his palms sweat. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind.
"Just focus on flying and catching the Quaffle," he reminded himself, but doubts crept in.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was living in James' shadow, and the pressure to prove himself weighed heavily on his shoulders. Albus closed his eyes for a moment, envisioning himself soaring through the air, feeling the freedom of flight.
Albus definitely knew the rules of Quidditch; after all, his whole family was obsessed with the sport. He had grown up listening to stories of his parents' glory days on the pitch and watching countless matches with his siblings. He could recite the rules and knew all about the positions, the scoring system, and even the infamous fouls.
But knowing the rules and actually playing the game were two completely different things. When it came to the practical side of things, Albus felt lost. He had never had the chance to practice with a team or learn the nuances of gameplay. He could fly, sure, but the idea of coordinating with teammates, understanding tactics, and executing plays under pressure was intimidating. Albus found himself wishing he could just take to the skies and enjoy the ride, but the reality of Quidditch was much more complex than he had anticipated.
James burst into the room, a wide grin on his face. "Albus! It's your turn!" he called out, excitement bubbling in his voice.
Albus felt his heart drop for a moment, the panic rising again. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
James shrugged, still grinning. "They want to see how you perform in a normal Quidditch match scenario. You'll get a chance to show what you can do! Just think of it as practice," he said, clapping Albus on the back. "You've got this, mate. Just focus on flying and catching the Quaffle. No pressure!"
Albus couldn't help but feel a mix of nerves and anticipation. It was one thing to practice on his own, but now he was about to be thrown into an actual match. "Okay, I'll try," he said, trying to muster some confidence as he followed James out to the pitch.
As Albus walked onto the pitch, the sounds of cheering and the sight of the vibrant green grass made his stomach flutter with nerves. He could feel his heart racing, pounding in his chest like a drum. The reality of the moment hit him hard—he was about to play in a real Quidditch match, and the pressure was palpable.
James, sensing Albus's anxiety, kept chatting as they made their way to the center of the pitch. "Just remember, everyone starts somewhere. You're going to do great!" he said, his enthusiasm infectious. But Albus couldn't shake the feeling of self-doubt. What if he messed up? What if he let everyone down?
As they reached the edge of the pitch, Albus's gaze drifted to the Slytherin side, where he spotted Scorpius warming up with his new teammates. Albus felt a pang of surprise as he noticed how comfortable Scorpius looked among them, laughing and joking as they practiced their passing drills. It was a stark contrast to how Albus felt, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and envy. Scorpius seemed to have seamlessly found his place, while Albus was still grappling with nerves.
