chapter 7
06 09 1987
Percy groaned. “Really?”
“Yes! And I’m going to show off and Madame Hooch is going to recommend me for the Gryffindor Quidditch team and I’ll be the youngest player in a century.” Oliver exclaimed.
“Me too! Except Chaser.” Kinsley agreed.
After a big, full English breakfast, the group of six headed down to the Quidditch Pitch. Oliver, Kinsley, Indie, and Bodie were noticeably excited, while Percy and Penelope both looked dubious.
“Pep up, you two. It’s broomsticks, not an execution.”
“It could be an execution if I fall off.” Penelope reasoned.
“Fair point.” Bodie conceded. “Don’t fall off.”
Madame Hooch led the first years towards a line of brooms and told them each to stand behind one.
Kinsley had Oliver on one side and Percy on the other, the two boys staring at the brooms in front of them with decidedly different expressions.
“Now, the first step is to place your hand over your broom and say ‘up’.” Madame Hooch said loudly. “Let me demonstrate. Up!” The broom at her feet flew up to meet her outstretched hand. “Now you try.”
“Up,” Kinsley said, looking expectantly at her broom. It flew into her palm immediately. She noted that Oliver, Indie, and Bodie all had similar successes, as well as two snakes (Tatum and Marcus Flint), a claw, Henry Power, and a puff, Benjamin Owell.
“You’ve got to actually want the broom to go up.” Kinsley heard Bodie say, and she turned to look at who he was speaking to. Percy and Penelope were both looking at their brooms warily, saying ‘Up’ very halfheartedly.
“I don’t want it to go up, though,” Penelope admitted, and Percy nodded in agreeance.
“You can lead a dragon to the water, but you can’t make it drink.” Indie shook her head dejectedly.
“Well done, everyone. Next step, mount your brooms.” Madame Hooch chimes back in. Everyone either got on their already levitated brooms or else picked them up and mounted them.
“I’d like you to push off softly, levitate for five seconds, then angle the head of the broom down and land back on the ground. On the count of three. One, two, three.”
Everyone did as she asked, and landed safely. Even Penelope and Percy, although Pen looked pale and Perce looked like he was about to leave the lesson altogether.
“Brilliant. I’ve never had a class with such success. The next thing I’d like is for everyone to do a lap of the pitch. Take it at a pace you feel comfortable at, and at a height you feel comfortable at as well. Ready? Off you go!”
Some people shot off, some slowly began to dribble forward.
The four Quidditch enthusiasts of Kinsley’s group all raced forward quickly, pushing their brooms higher and faster. Tatum and Marcus joined their pace, while everyone else was at different points behind them. Kinsley shot through one of the goalposts, looping around it before shooting forward. Oliver went no-hands as if to say, ‘I can do cool stuff too!’.
Everyone sped forward as fast as they could (by everyone Kinsley meant herself, Oliver, Bodie, Indie, Tatum, and Marcus), all realising it was a race to the other goalposts.
Oliver shot through them first, followed closely by Kinsley and Marcus. The other three crossed almost simultaneously behind them. They pulled their brooms to a stop before Madame Hooch, who was applauding.
“Such a strong display of talent. You all ought to apply for your house Quidditch teams. In fact, go up to Professor Dumbledores office and ask for permission right now. I think the teams would really benefit from players like you. The password is ‘Honey crackle’.”
“Thank you, Madame Hooch.” They all chimed, and then made their way to the headmaster's office, buzzing with excitement, while all of their classmates were still slowly making their way around the pitch.
“What do you two play?” Kinsley asked as the group walked through the main entrance.
“I’m a chaser.” Marcus sneered. “And a good one. Better than you lot.”
Tatum rolled his eyes at Marcus’ response.
“I’m a seeker,” He said.
“Me too!” Indie exclaimed.
Tatum nodded at her. “What about you lot?”
“Keeper.” Wood puffed out his chest.
“Chaser.” Kinsley and Bodie said in sync.
“Honey crackle,” Kinsley said to the gargoyle at the entrance to the headmaster's office.
“That’s such a weird password,” Indie whispered, as the gargoyle nodded and moved to the side to let the stairwell appear. They climbed to the top, and were met with doors that quickly swung open, allowing them access to the headmaster's Office.
“Hello, everyone. I trust you’ve had a good start to the year?” Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at them, gesturing them to sit in six newly conjured chairs.
“Yes, I have.” “Yes, sir.” “I have, Headmaster Dumbledore.” Five out of six of them spoke. Kinsley stayed silent, smiling tightly at the man in front of her only.
When Minerva had adopted Kinsley, Dumbledore had been against it at first. He’d tried to tell her to send Kinsley to an orphanage, that Hogwarts wasn’t a suitable place for a child.
When Minerva told him that she was perfectly within her rights to keep the child there and nothing he could say would change her mind, he changed his tune. However, Kinsley never fell for his fake ‘grandfatherly’ act, and although he offered her private lessons she opted to take them from one of her Godparents or Mum instead. Henceforth, the two had never really seen eye to eye.
“What can I do for all of you today?” Dumbledore asked.
Oliver spoke first. “Well, sir, Madame Hooch has just told us to come to you. You see-“
Marcus cut him off.
“She said she’s not seen talent like mine- ours, I mean- in ages, and that she recommends us to try out for our house teams.”
“Only, we have to ask you for permission. Because first years aren’t usually allowed.” Indie chimed in.
“I see, I see. Unfortunately, no matter how good you all are as players, I cannot bend the rules. It doesn’t set a good precedent, and letting even one first-year play would be unfair to everyone else. I advise you to practice really hard this year so that next year when trying out for the teams is permitted, you have a high chance.”
Everyone sighed, looking upset.
“Thank you for your time, sir,” Bodie said, and the six children got up from their seats and walked back down the stairs, heads hung low.
“Next year.” Oliver nodded to himself.
“Next year.” They all repeated.
Houses united for a second in disappointment, resignation, and determination, the six smiled at each other at the bottom of the stairs before going their separate ways, Marcus and Tatum towards the dungeons and the rest towards their towers.
“At least we tried.” Indie sighed.
“That’s right.” Kinsley nodded, annoyed at Professor Dumbledore but respecting his decision. It made sense, in a way. Can’t let one person break the rules because then everyone will want to. It made sense. But it just ignited a fire in Kinsley that the next year, she had to make the team. There was no other option.