Evening, Friday 13th September, 1894 — Gryffindor Tryouts, Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch

They only had two Chasers to replace, so they, unlike some of the other teams, could afford to be choosy. It was only a shame, Jimmy thought with a narrow-eyed look at the assembly of his present team, here to help out, that this new power of Captain hadn’t given him the power to kick off previous appointments just because. (Cough, Greta, cough.)

“Now, look. We won the cup last year, so we need some good goal-scorers here to keep our streak – so no one who isn’t fully committed,” Jimmy said, eyeing up the potential new recruits. “On the pitch or off the pitch,” he warned, with a severe expression and an internal, wicked glee – “if it’s the morning or the middle of the night, and I say jump, you jump.”

He gestured at a box of armbands. “I’m going to split you in two teams, and you’re going to play a half-pitch game amongst yourselves. If your side gains possession, you fly back to the halfway mark and then forwards on these hoops, passing and intercepting and both teams trying to shoot on me as Keeper here. If you drop the quaffle, you’re on thin ice. Mohr and Finnigan will be lurking as Beaters, pelting you with “bludgers”,” – they were stinkbombs enchanted to fly, actually, because Jimmy thought that would be funny, and he’d be able to judge the best of them by who smelled least bad. He grinned. “So the less you get hit, the better. Now, mount your brooms.”

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   Maxwell Beck, Morgan Valenduris

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James was equal parts excited and nervous to be trying out for quidditch. He hadn't tried out last year to give himself a solid year in Club Qudditch--and Flying Club, for good measure--to prepare. And maybe if he made the team it would finally convince his father to buy him his own broom, so he wouldn't have to use Ella's old one anymore.

James set about his chaser tryout, passing the quaffle and attempting a few shots on the goal posts--definitely wasn't intimidating trying to score on the team captain, no--and dodging the... were those stinkbombs? Gross. But also kind of hilarious.

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Set by MJ <3

The rush of excitement and nerves had Toby almost bouncing as he listed to Fletcher's words. Second only to theater Toby was quite certain he could live in the air. He'd love every moment of club quidditch and flying club last year.

Once they were in the air he assumed the role of a chaser and dutifully did his best. Shouting at the teammates who tried to pelt him with some of Shakespeare's choosiest insults, dodging and weaving with great flair and doing his best to score on Fletcher when he had the chance.

  

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Mo had been raised by quidditch players.

This was her time.

It helped that she had been able to snooker her dad into buying her a new broom. It was a pity the team didn't need a seeker, she would have been suited to it, but chaser it was, and chaser she would get. She mounted her broom after listening to the instructions, noted and nodded at her current teammates and set off.

The flying was the easiest part, (which meant ducking the dungbombs— an ingenious motivation really) she would have to work on her dexterity a little, to get the hang of the quaffle, but she was determined and she would practice, had practiced over the last few days, to get better. Maybe she could have Tells throw things at her until she could catch things without looking.

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Zack had heard that it was almost impossible for first years to make it onto the Quidditch teams, and this seemed especially true in Gryffindor. Apparently there were more positions open in other houses. He wished he'd known that when he was being sorted, otherwise he would have yelled at the hat to put him into a house where he was a shoo-in.

As it was, he was here being pelted by stinkbombs (a fact he had found out somewhat unfortunately when one struck him when he was just about to throw the Quaffle) and hoping that the Quidditch captain would see his general awesome-ness. He attempted to make eye-contact a few times as if to say "if this is how cool I am without training, just you wait until I'm on the team!"

Still, it would probably be worth it to join the club. In case training did actually matter.

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   Elias Grimstone

It had not taken him much convincing for Papa to lend his broom to Desmond for this year, and now he carried it proudly onto the pitch. He lapped up every word that Mr. Fletcher was saying, the team captain seemed to take his role very seriously. It made the boy even more enthusiastic about his chances, he didn't know the Fletcher family but that lack of connections wouldn't bother a real quidditch captain.

Not one who wanted to win a house cup tournament as much as Desmond did, and be on the team that did it.

Dreams of making the winning goal and flying his own victory lap vanished as soon as he was in the air. It was too easy not to think of anything else on a broom, Des loved the feeling of all his cares whipping away in the breeze, seeing the world move by so fast underneath him. There wasn't much time for sightseeing, he even forgot to look for Gia in the stands where she'd promised to watch from. Des was too busy dodging the bludgers, one of the stinkbombs passed close enough to his face to foul up his nose for the rest of tryouts, nevermind the ones that hit.

By the end of it, the boy was so happy to have gotten a real chance to fly on the school pitch that he didn't care if he smelled bad. He was just sure he had made an impression.

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Courtesy of the lovely Lady!

The time of reckoning had come. He walked onto the field and listened as they were told what to do. He had not been in the skies long when one of the "bludgers" got him right in the side of his head, drenching him in the odor of a stinkbomb. Ugh. He continued on before dismounting when the trials came to an end.