Thirteen years after The Battle of Hogwarts, two wizarding children are about to embark on their own adventure. They both have been lied to their entire lives, one to protect her from the wrath of the wizarding world, and the other to protect him fr...
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"Scorpius, listen to me. The likelihood of a first year making it onto the team is somewhere between slim and nonexistent," Bel pleaded.
"Bel, I don't need you to patronize me," Scorpius said, chin held high as he marched confidently out to the Quidditch pitch. Bel and Cat trailed after him, frantically continuing their last minute attempt to keep him from...well...embarrassing himself. Bel and Cat had seen him practice; they had even helped him from time to time. Unfortunately, he was far from what they imagined the Slytherin team would accept, and not even in the same universe as what they were looking for. Scorpius certainly wasn't what the team needed if they wanted to have any hope of beating Gryffindor—even once—during the entire school year. Not to say he couldn't possibly improve, but for the past two months Bel had been suggesting that he hold off on trying out until he got in a bit more practice.
"Scorpius, we aren't trying to make you upset. We're just telling you what's practical." Bel panted, jogging to keep up with him.
"Oh, what's the harm, Bel? Worst that'll happen is that he'll become the laughing stock of the school, or at least the house. I don't see the problem," Cat snickered. She had given up yesterday on trying to deter him from trying out, and had jumped on the bandwagon. While Bel did think it would be entertaining to watch Scorpius try, and possibly ram into a goalpost, she didn't want him to be too upset if—no, when—people fell off their brooms laughing at him.
"Yes, but Cat..." Bel spluttered before Scorpius cut her off.
"Bel. Cat. Trust me. I. Know. What. I'm. Doing. Besides, my father made it on the team no problem. It's in my genes." Scorpius hurried up the rest of the way to the field, leaving Bel and Cat to rush after him.
"Uncle Lucius let his father practice in the garden—something we were never allowed to do—except for a few times this past year. And Uncle Draco was in second year when he made the team," Bel muttered to Cat, too low for Scorpius to hear. Cat only snickered in reply.
The bleachers, mercifully, were relatively empty aside from a few girls who were sitting on the other side of the field, and as Bel and Cat tracked up the steps to the front row of seats, they noticed that Scorpius was indeed the only first year trying out. Cat didn't bother to stifle her laugh.
"Look at the idiot down there. Everyone else has been playing Quidditch for at least a year, and he thinks he's going to get a spot." Cat sat down and pulled Bel down next to her. Bel rolled her eyes and looked down at the figures gathered on the grass near the goal hoops.
The day was overcast, the low bottoms of the clouds forming a flat grey ceiling, not uncommon for a day in autumn at Hogwarts. The air was thick and wet, and a chill wind blew down from the mountains, cooling off the day. The students trying out were huddled around the center goal, all lazily chatting and leaning on their brooms. All of them except for Scorpius, who was nervously clutching his hand-me-down Nimbus 2001 and was standing stock still a few yards away from the others.
