ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Three. Quidditch Tryouts.

"Alright, if I could have everyone gather 'round, please," Marlowe shouted. He stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. About two dozen people had shown up, not including the remains of his last year's team. He was glad he didn't need to replace everyone: he still had Sean, his keeper, and his fellow beater Clara Hall (she was a fan favorite, because not only were female beaters fairly rare, but Clara was even more unlikely: she was small with very dainty features, but had remarkable aim and a good arm), as well as one of his chasers, Marcie Pritchard. 

He still needed two chasers and a seeker, and he wasn't opposed to a few reserve players either. Someone was always getting injured.

Marlowe looked around at everyone, pausing for a moment on a small boy in the back: Elliot. His little brother smiled weakly, lifting the school broom clutched in his hand. Marlowe's heart sank. He wanted so badly to be able to give Elliot a chance - he knew his brother looked up to him, especially on the Quidditch field - but he doubted whether he would out-fly the older students here.

Shaking his head, Marlowe looked away from Elliot and said, "Alright, everyone. I'd like to get started pretty quickly. We'll be trying out for chasers first, and then for seeker. I'll need three players. So... " He paused. He had just noticed that, standing in the first row of hopefuls was none other than Theo. He wondered if Caiti had noticed - she and Evelyn were up in the stands, munching on toast and watching. He glanced at Sean, standing a little ways behind him off his left shoulder. He'd never been very good at this sort of thing and Theo had him preoccupied. 

Sean smiled encouragingly, giving him a nod. Marlowe turned back and continued. "Just do your best, and... Let's get started."

He had them all fly a few loops around the pitch, just to see who was or wasn't comfortable on a broom, and this turned out to be a good decision; Elliot was not the only first year to show up. He felt much better prepared to move on to the more important tests knowing who he had better spend his time watching.

Next, he moved them through a series of chaser exercises with Sean protecting the goal posts. He was pleased to say that Elliot was at least the best in his class, though not the best overall. He wondered if he might be able to make a reserve out of him, let him practice with them and work his way up to playing next year. Marcie at least would be graduating, leaving at least one chaser spot open for Elliot to potentially fill. He didn't think Elliot would make much a beater, but there was always his spot too, and Sean's as keeper. He would have to consider it.

The try outs were promising. A fifth year boy Marlowe recognized but had never spoken to scored six goals, and Sean was not an easy keeper to get past. A few others scored four or so each.

When he felt he'd seen all he needed to see, he put a list of potential chasers in the back of his head and moved on to seeker tryouts.

Marlowe was annoyed to admit to himself that Theo stood out. He could only imagine how Caiti would feel if he put him on the team, but could he risk not having their best shot at the quidditch cup just because his best friend had once dated his seeker? He noticed that every time Theo's turn came up, Caiti had looked resolutely down, very interested in either her shoes or her fingernails or the floor of the bleachers.

He hated to say it, but Theo was very good. He was, actually, the only one there who caught the snitch at all - and he did so more than once, quickly. Even with Clara pelting bludgers at him. And then there was the fact that he was just the build for a seeker: light and rather short for a boy of his age, very speedy.

Marlowe decided he would have to talk to Caiti.

---

The conversation, it appeared, was going to be harder than Marlowe had planned. Caiti was looking exceptionally cute, with her blonde hair tied back in two french braids, each finishing in one neat little loopy curl. To make matters worse, he found the perturbed look on her face irresistible: heavy lidded brown eyes, tight lips, and pale cheeks. Her arms were folded in front of her and she stood at the mouth of the pitch where the players entered from the locker rooms, waiting for him. Evelyn had already caught up with Sean - the rest of the team and the students who had tried out had already cleared out. He had heard his two friends laughing loudly about something on their way. Evidently, Evelyn had recovered from her cold.