- Rating:
- G
- House:
- Riddikulus
- Characters:
- James Potter Sirius Black
- Genres:
- General Action
- Era:
- 1970-1981 (Including Marauders at Hogwarts)
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince Quidditch Through the Ages
- Stats:
-
Published: 12/25/2007Updated: 12/25/2007Words: 2,562Chapters: 1Hits: 256
Chapter 01
- Posted:
- 12/25/2007
- Hits:
- 256
Author's Note: Well, this was originally
written as part of a Gryffindor House collaboration on
the MNFF forums. We were each given a quality/characteristic of Gryffindors, and had to write a one-shot showing a character
portraying that quality. I was given Intelligence/Talent, though this
story leans more towards 'Talent' than 'Intelligence'. Now, I present for your
enjoyment, Natural
Talent.
~**~
Natural
Talent
~**~
The great multitude
of contented students remained sitting at their House tables, some eyes fixed
upon Dumbledore as the headmaster gave his start-of-term feast, others staring
off into space or at the table, their tired minds already up in their beds for
the night after having consumed such a scrumptious feast just moments before.
Young witches and wizards had filled themselves to fulfilment,
and many were only listening half-heartedly to the elder wizard's words. The
announcements tended to be the same - or nearly so - every year, after all. So,
therefore, most felt that there was not a great deal of need to listen very
intently.
"... wish
Professor Broadmoor good luck as the new Defence
Against the Dark Arts professor ... And now, Mr Filch tells me that he has added
around seventy new items to the list of forbidden things, the entire list of
which can be seen outside of his office ...
"Quidditch tryouts will be held in approximately two weeks'
time, and anyone wishing to put their name forth for their House team may do so
with their Head of House, who will, in turn, inform team captains -"
At the
singular word of "Quidditch", several heads in the
Great Hall seemed to perk up, their attention raised and returned to the words
of their headmaster. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs,
Gryffindors, and Slytherins
... all four Houses tuned into the information concerning the one thing that just
about all of the students, regardless of House, were capable of agreeing on - Quidditch was vastly important to life in general. In fact,
as far as many were concerned, it held a spot right up there with oxygen, and
the twelve-year-old boy seated with his three friends at the Gryffindor table
was one of them.
James
Potter's attention on Dumbledore's speech waned shortly after the headmaster
had finished mentioning Quidditch, his own mind
returning to its thoughts and dreams of earlier. This year was finally the
year, he knew. This year, James was going to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team, an achievement that had been over a decade
in the making - or so his parents had always said. "That boy's been flying
since he was born," his mother would mutter as he raced out to the backyard for
the afternoon, a broomstick clutched in his hand. "We should have never bought
that toy broomstick when he was only a year old," issued his father, grinning
at Mrs Potter from the dinner table as their son flipped through one of the
many books detailing facts of national and international Quidditch
teams.
Flying.
Quidditch.
Flying. Pranking. Flying. His interests did not
vary too much, but it was a good thing, he thought, that he was skilled at all
of them, especially at only twelve years old. Everyone who had seen him fly
complimented him on his talent, after all, and James had no reason to
contradict them or change their opinions of him. He knew he was good, and this
year, finally, after a torturous year of waiting (and James was still mumbling about the stupid
rule concerning no First Years on the team), everyone at Hogwarts would know it
as well.
Oh, yes.
Two weeks could not come soon enough.
----
Fourteen days
flies by quite quickly when one becomes occupied by other things or is dreading
them passing, but for one who is looking forwards to their end, fourteen days
might as well be a millennium. Such was, at the very least, how James felt when
he headed down to the Quidditch pitch early Saturday
morning, two weeks after the start of his second year. The year was already off
to a good start, if he said so himself, what with the completion of three pranks,
the fact that Snape had ended up in the Hospital Wing
once, and he and his friends had yet to be caught for any of the events.
Yes, the year was going extremely well thus far, and it was only about to get
better.
A sleek Nimbus
1001 over his shoulder, James walked onto the green grass of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, glancing around and taking in its six
large hoops and high surrounding stands for the spectators. Seeing the stands,
he noted with a great sense of satisfaction that, never again, would he have to
stay there simply cheering on the Gryffindor team ... He would get to have people
cheering for him. Smirking, James mounted his broom and took off into
the morning skies, intending to get a bit of practice flying in before the
tryouts.
It felt like
absolute heaven ... perfection ... completion ... whatever one wanted to call it.
Though it had only been two weeks since he had flown - Only hours before
leaving for King's Cross, his father had found him in the backyard, zooming
around on his broom - It still felt like it had been half a lifetime for the
black-haired boy since he had soared through the skies. Unable to get out to
the grounds to fly before today (The prank that sent Snape
to the Hospital had been the focus of last weekend), James had simply
been itching to get on his broomstick for a few hours of uninterrupted flying.
The semi-still
wind had picked up as he soared around the pitch, causing his hair to blow
around on his head. He rose up and up, higher and higher into the morning sky
before angling his broom in a steep dive, only to right it again at the last
possible moment. Faster and faster he flew, circling around the goal hoops,
soaring over the stands, twisting and turning in midair to dodge invisible Bludgers. James flew upwards, downwards, backwards, and
forwards. He soared high into the air and plummeted towards the ground. He
swerved and he turned; he circled and he looped. Jerking and guiding his broom,
he put the new Nimbus through all of its paces, stretching its abilities - and
his - as far as they would go during the few hours he had before the rest of
the team and other hopefuls arrived.
There was
nothing else on his mind, nothing to disrupt his focus. James was in his
element while on a broom, and he knew it. It was complete freedom in the air,
and the twelve-year-old Gryffindor felt utterly invincible while he had such
freedom. Rising and falling, swerving and looping, James flew around and around
the pitch, time simply not mattering to him while he was up in the air.
He did not
even realise it when he was no longer alone on the grounds. At least, not until
a voice called up to him and pierced through the flight-instilled focus in his
mind.
"Hey, you!"
yelled a voice. "Get down here!"
James suddenly
halted in the air, right in the middle of doing a particularly complex dodging
move that consisted of multiple twists that he had practiced over the summer,
and glanced down below him. A bit of shock fell over his face as he noticed the
nearly two dozen students gathered on the edge of the Quidditch
pitch, as if they had arrived and had gone no further after spotting him.
Noticing the red robes on a few of the students, James realised that it must be
time for the Gryffindor tryouts, and he dived skilfully back to the ground,
landing without a fault right in front of the group.
"Hello," he
said, holding his broom over his shoulder and eyeing the one he thought had
called him down from the air. "Is it time for the tryouts already?"
It seemed to
take a moment for the larger student - He looks about a Sixth Year,
James thought, taking in the boy's tall, yet burly, frame - to regain the power
of speech. He was still looking at James as if he had never quite seen anything
like him before ... but it was not in a bad way. Rather, the person that James
knew to be the captain of Gryffindor's team - the
badge on the boy's scarlet robes gave such information away - was staring at
James with a joyful expression and one that bordered on near-admiration.
"You're here
for Gryffindor?" the captain asked, to which James nodded in answer. "Well, I'm
Zacharias Parkin, the captain, and we are about ready
to start. The rest of the hopefuls are over waiting near the stands - you can
go and join them - but first, what's your name, kid?"
"James
Potter."
"How long've you been flying, Potter?" said Parkin.
James made an
expression of deep thought as he pretended to be counting up many, many years
of experience. "Oh, about ten, eleven years or so," he said. He did not wait
for Parkin or anyone else to ask him his age or to
figure out that he had basically just admitted to flying for his entire life.
Rather, he headed over towards the stands where the others were gathered, and
waited for the tryouts to actually begin.
"Well, thanks
for coming, everyone," said Zacharias as his eyes scanned over the ground.
"Today shouldn't be too long, really, because there's only three positions we
need people for - There are two openings for Chasers, and we need one Beater.
We'll do the Beater position first, so everyone who's trying out for Beater,
grab a broom and get in the air. Jackson
will unleash a Bludger, and we can see how you do."
Once Parkin had finished, several students rose from the stands
and gathered by the brooms, each awaiting his or her turn to attempt to snag
the Beater position. James ignored the proceedings for the most part, not
really caring as Emmett Rogers pounded the Bludger so
hard it soared straight across the pitch or when Edward Butler dropped his
Beater's club when he tried hitting the Bludger,
sending the bat to hit straight on Rosalie Swan's blonde-haired head with a bonk.
Eventually,
though, the Beater hopefuls had finished, and it was time for the Chasers to take
their turn. Instantly, James sat up from where he had semi-fallen asleep in the
stands and grabbed his broom, heading to the centre of the pitch where the
chest containing the Bludgers, the Quaffle, and the Golden Snitch lay. Parkin
held the red Quaffle in his large hands as he
surveyed the group of possible Chasers.
"All right,"
he said, "here's what you have to do. Rosalie and Charles," - He pointed to a
small boy who looked to be around thirteen - "who is our Seeker, will act as
the other two Chasers while a candidate takes the third position. I'll be
playing Keeper, and just try to score as many goals as possible, or at least
work with your team mates to score as many as possible, in five minutes." With
that, Parkin took off into the air, heading towards a
set of hoops, and Charles and Rosalie joined him.
"First up is
Potter," exclaimed Parkin, tossing the Quaffle to Rosalie.
James soared
instantly into the air, once again feeling completely confident and at home in
the skies. Catching the Quaffle that was suddenly
thrown his way by Rosalie, he heard Parkin call to
him, "Whenever you're ready," before he darted to the right on his broom and
hurled the Quaffle into the left hoop, Parkin staring in shock at the right hoop.
"That's one," said
James, turning around and waiting for Rosalie and Charles to join him.
The rest of
James's tryout went much the same way. Charles and Rosalie scored several goals
themselves as James passed the Quaffle off to his
team mates when they were in better positions to score than he was. Parkin blocked some of the shots but not others, while
James soared and swerved, dived and circled along with Charles and Rosalie,
scoring goal after goal. Before he knew it, the five minutes were through, and
he was returning to the ground while the next hopeful took to the skies.
It was not
long before tryouts had concluded, the team had deliberated, and the results
announced. Those who were not lucky enough to make the team this time headed
back towards the castle immediately, while the new Beater and Chasers stayed
for a moment to meet up with the rest of the team, get their uniforms, and
receive information concerning future practices.
When James
entered the common room after the tryouts, he noticed his friends over by the
fireplace. Sirius glanced up at his friend's entrance.
"How'd you
do?" he asked.
James smirked,
settled into a seat, and placed his broomstick on the floor.
"What do you
think?" he said.
~**~
Author's Note: Well, there you have it. I originally had another idea for this fic, and it was going to star Sirius, but James insisted that he get a starring role in a story, rather than just the supporting actor to Sirius's main part. As such, this is the first time I've ever written James in a main part (though Sirius still managed to sneak in at the end, of course ;) as there's just no chance of stopping him). Thanks so very much for reading, and please let me know what you think!
~Megan