Quidditch Tryouts
Regulus’s third week of Hogwarts brought the most exciting thing yet: Quidditch tryouts.
“Don't even bother going, mate.” Barty said as Regulus donned his set of quidditch robes Wednesday evening. “First years never make the team. They aren't even allowed to have a broom.”
Regulus shrugged. “I mean, it can't hurt to try.”
“Yes.” Barty snorted. “It can.”
Regulus rolled his eyes.
“I'm just saying mate, when people ask me if I know you after this don't be mad when I say no.”
Evan laughed raucously from the bed.
“Shut up.” Regulus snapped. His stomach was already writhing with nerves, and Barty’s comments weren't doing him any favors. “I'm going to make it. I've been playing Quidditch since before I can remember. I can outfly anyone here”
“Don't give me that ‘I've been on a broom before I could walk’ bollocks, Reg.” Barty said with a sneer. “Your superiority complex doesn't make you any more likable, you know.”
Superiority complex? That was interesting.
“Just because I’m smarter than you doesn't mean I have a superiority complex, Barty.” Regulus said haughtily. “And if I do have one, ever stop to think that it might be for a good reason?”
Barty’s face turned a tomato red, but behind him Evan chuckled.
“Well, no one ever said Salazar Slytherin was humble,” he said. Reg couldn't stop a smile as he buttoned up his robes and strode to the door.
“You're gonna miss all of your shots Reg, you're gonna fumble, I can tell.” Barty called as he was leaving. The blond boy had a nasty look on his face as he glared at Regulus.
“I'm a Black.” Regulus said coolly. “I don't miss.”
An hour later Regulus stood on the damp Quidditch field, panting and sweaty as rain drizzled from the sky and soaked his already wet hair. Several dozen Slytherins stood clustered around him, all of them in varying levels of breathlessness and paying rapt attention to Rudolphus Lestrange, the burly seventh year captain. Rudolphus was looking at them all with mild levels of disgust, his lip permanently upturned in a sneer.
“Alright, that's the end of our chaser and beater tryouts. You lot aren't very good, but I guess I'll have to make do with the scrawny ones I get.” the older boy said unhappily. “Dolohov, Carrow, and Goyle.”
Three boys muttering gloomily to each other snapped to attention.
“You three are my beaters. I’ve seen you lot wield a bat, and it looks like you won't be half bad if I can hammer some real training into you.”
The three boys broke out into grins and clapped each other on the back. Regulus saw several Slytherins storm away from the pitch in disgust. Rudolphus paid them no notice, scanning over the remaining crowd with searching eyes. Regulus watched his eyes land on him, and saw the quick moment of confusion, and then amusement, that flashed through them. His spine straightened instinctively, temper rushing to his skin. Nobody laughs at a Black.
“Yaxley, McNair, Mulciber.” Rudolphus called again. “You three are my chasers.”
Three boys that Regulus didn't recognize swaggered with pride over to where the three beaters were standing, whispering to each other with cruel grins at the rest of the crowd gathered. Regulus looked around at the windblown group of Slytherins around him, all shaking from the cold and looking crestfallen. Most were third years, with some older students thrown in and a handful of second years. Regulus was the only first year. Disappointment rushed through him, though he tried not to be surprised. Of course he didn't make it. Regulus told himself. He wasn't even twelve yet. This was his first year at Hogwarts. Besides, just like Barty said…perhaps all his ideas of being that good were really all just his inflated head. The idea of facing Barty after this made Regulus physically shudder. He could imagine the satisfied smirk on the blond boy's face. His fist twitched involuntarily at the thought of it.
Several Slytherins had begun to walk away, talking in low tones with their friends and throwing bitter glances at the team already assembled. The keeper, a tall sixth year that Regulus didn't know the name of, had been selected first and had watched the entire try-out process with a bored look on his face. He now stood with the others, listening to their conversation but not participating in it. Regulus turned and walked towards the changing rooms alone, his head now completely soaked and sending droplets of water running down his back. Rainwater got into his eyes and he fought back the stinging, blinking rapidly, but now tears were welling up as well and the last thing Regulus wanted to happen was to start crying in front of all these people.
Control. He told himself. You are a statue of skin and bone. Sculpt yourself. But the tears were pressing insistently at his eyes. He sped up, hoping to get to the locker room before whatever was possessing him broke out and he actually started crying. Regulus never cried.
“Seekers, your tryout begins in a few minutes.” Rudolphus called from behind him. Regulus stopped.
You should definitely try out for seeker . James had told him. He tried to shake the thought from his head. Regulus hadn't spoken to James in more than a week. Why would he? He reasoned. He shouldn't even be talking to the older Gryffinfdor. Regulus was a Black, and and Slytherin, and James was his brother's best friend who stood for everything his family hated. No, it was better for him to stay away.
But what James had told him that one Friday morning had taken root in his mind and grown like ivy, crawling into all his thoughts and irrevocably surrounding his brain. He should try out for seeker .
A quick glance behind him told Regulus that only three youngish-looking Slytherins were hanging back for the seeker tryouts. The pitch was almost empty, but for the freshly selected team and a grumpy looking Rudolphus. First years aren't even supposed to try out, Barty had said. But nobody had stopped him so far and Regulus wasn't too inclined to follow rules he considered below him.
Regulus hovered there, torn between the warm looking changing rooms and the large, empty Quidditch pitch open behind him. Rudolphus called again for seekers tryouts.
“Go.” a familiar voice said. Regulus turned to see James standing at the entrance to the pitch, ten or so feet away from him. He was alone, Regulus noted, his bright crimson sweater stark against the gray of the evening. He felt his heart jump, a strange shock shivering through his body. What was James doing watching the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts? Regulus turned back to the pitch, wondering if Rudolphus had seen him, but the older Slytherin was focused on the potential seekers gathered in front of him and was paying Regulus no notice. Regulus bit back his initial surprise at seeing James here, drawing his face into a bored expression.
“Why?” he said simply. James squinted at him through the rain, his glasses were completely fogged over and looked unwearable, but his hazel eyes peeked out at Regulus with a thoughtful gleam.
“Because.” James said. “You’d make it. and because I’ve seen you play, Regulus. You're a natural.”
"you don't know what you're talking about." Regulus bit out. He didn't know why he was so angry all of a sudden, but he knew as he stood there staring at James that he didn't want this perfect hazel eyed boy anywhere near him, telling him he was good and making him feel so goddamned special. James could take his "helpful" comments and ideas and spit them back out to Sirius, or Remus, or even the small blond boy, who would probably lap the praise up like little dogs.
"I can't let you waste your potential like this" James said with a half smile. Regulus wanted to punch him. James wouldn't let him? A torrent of words was rushing over him, pressing fervently against his teeth, begging to be released. Why are you saying this? Why do you care?
He bit his lip, the sharp pain a reminder of where he was, and who he was talking to.
“First years aren't even allowed to be on the team.” Regulus said calmly, using the same excuse Barty had told him an hour ago. James snorted.
“I watched you play the whole tryout--that didn't seem to bother you before. You are a good seeker. I know a Quidditch player when I see one and you are one . Go join that tryout, before you regret it.”
Emotions roared through Regulus’s head faster than he could understand. He felt like a rope, flimsy and breaking, being tugged in every direction and trying his best not to snap. He didn't like the way James seemed to read his mind, to know him more than Regulus had ever given him the right to. He should go back to his dorm, do his homework, and think about anything other than the boy standing in front of him.
Time ticked by slowly, he could hear Rudolphus behind him shouting at the other seekers to mount their brooms behind him. A single drop of rain slid down his nose and landed on his lip.
“ Go ” James whispered again.
Without another word, Regulus stode forward and tapped James’s glasses with his wand once, muttering “impervius.”
He didn't stay to watch James’s eyes widen in shock, or his glasses suddenly repel the water now pouring down on him, but turned and hurried over to where the seekers were waiting on the ground, ready to take off.