He stood to the side of the field with a broom from the school broom cupboard he could only pray would work as the idea of telling an inanimate object to come up and climb on it and fly was still unbelievable to him.  Though he’d seen it done, gotten a broom to come up, and even managed to fly a few feet prior.  Thankfully he had nothing to lose as tryouts was his only shot and any sport that involved flying was an exception to Quincy's anti-sport past.

At least Slytherin hadn’t won recently enough for there to be any pressure beyond the captain’s desires.

He watched as others as they got into the air with most of them flying stories upon stories in the air before he even got his broom to rise to his hand with a series of determined “Up” being said each getting more insistent.  Of the positions it was obvious chaser was the one that was least interesting to him so he went for that first.

Or attempted to go for that first as it took a couple laps of slow rises into the air for him to even get high enough for another chaser to throw the odd shaped quaffle ball at him.  With the first quaffle hitting him square in the front without him even managing to release both of his tightly gripped hands from his broom to try to catch it as it fell to the ground.

Then the next one came felt like it was thrown harder, and he lifted his arm up managing to pull it into his body as his broom did a slight turn towards it.  Circling around he attempted to throw the quaffle towards one of the hoops as that would probably be easier than to a person - plus he wasn’t sure he’d manage to catch another. A toss that caused an unplanned turn from the momentum of the toss and a dip as his hand went quickly back to the broom with an unintended leaning down.