There was no way in Hell that tiny Archer Belby who, to his intense embarrassment, still hadn't managed to hit a growth spurt, would ever try out for Beater. He was positive he would probably only end up injuring himself, even in tryouts. No, he would only allow himself to be bullied into trying out for Chaser.

The boy visibly flushed when Waterford mentioned that he hoped they hadn't skipped breakfast. That morning, Belby hadn't even been able to think about food, especially since bludgers had decided to make a return. All he could imagine was one hurtling toward him, knocking him clear off his broom, and falling to his untimely death. That would be his luck.

No. His actual luck would be to become permanently mangled and maimed, yet still alive. Yep, that would be him.

Passing the quaffle back and forth was the easier part. Somehow, he managed not to drop it, which was a vast improvement from his earlier attempts at trying out. Attempting to make a goal however was another story. It didn't help that Montgomery gave him such a fierce look that he nearly dropped the quaffle before he'd even thrown it. That boy was terrifying on a good day, not to mention during tryouts when Archer was sure he would purposely punt the ball right at his face.

When he finally landed back on the ground, the fourth year appeared haggard and harassed, his clothing all askew and hair windswept. At least, he hadn't died?