Sunburned Country

Chapter 3

Chaldercot compound was quiet in the early hours of next morning, the peace broken only by the calls of currawongs and the sound of waves breaking on the shore of the nearby bay. And by early, I mean six o'clock. The sun had risen approximately fifteen minutes earlier, and I was taking advantage of the fact that nobody else was up yet (and the fact that the day's expected heat hadn't yet made its oft-dreaded entrance) to do my usual early morning term time workout - rollerblading around the paved quad in the middle of the compound, lifting a small set of barbells in my hands as I skated. Being a Chaser required a certain amount of upper-body strength - though admittedly not as much as was needed to play the position of Beater - which was where the barbells came in handy. Now, let's face it, I could have just sat on the porch of the Grade Eleven 'boarding house' and done it there, but I had my rollerblades with me and a wonderfully flat and open area to work with. Besides, it helped with my coordination, which was often less than great at the best of times.

"Merlin Morrie, isn't it a bit early for that?"

I snapped my head around in the direction of the voice. At the same time, I overbalanced and fell right on my backside. "Jesus fucking Christ!" I cursed, then scowled as I looked up at the owner of the voice.

Melania stood on the porch of the Grade Eleven building, still dressed in her long dark green sleeveless nightgown, nursing what seemed to be a steaming mug of coffee. She cocked a slender blonde eyebrow at me.

"And anyway, should you even be doing that with your knee like it is?"

I scowled again. "Mel, honestly, you sound like my mother." I picked myself up off of the paving and dusted myself off. "It stops my knee from seizing up - it's been doing that a bit lately."

"You'd think it'd be healed by now," Melania said as I skated back over to the Grade Eleven building. "I mean, seeing as you're a witch and all."

"I'm half and half, remember?" I sat down on the wooden stairs leading up onto the porch and unbuckled my rollerblades. "I think the fact that I'm half-Muggle interferes with my magic when it comes to healing injuries."

By six-thirty, the compound was full of activity. I had taken a shower and dressed in my uniform, and was shrugging my maroon robes on, when a quiet knock sounded at the door of my dormitory. Leaving my shoes and socks on my bed, I padded barefoot over to the door and peeked through the window of bubbled glass set into the top of the door. One of the Grade Sevens stood on the porch, toying with the damp tail of her plait. She looked up as I opened the door.

"Hi Morgan," she said, sniffling.

"Ashley? What's wrong?" I asked, crouching down to her level. Tears filled her green eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. She dragged the left sleeve of her robes across her face.

"I got a Howler," she whispered. She let out a hiccup.

"Oh Ashley," I said softly. "Come here." She stepped forward and collapsed against me, burying her face in my shoulder. "Was it from your parents?" I felt her nod against my shoulder, and I closed my eyes. "Because you're in Chaldercot rather than Telford?" Another nod, and I sighed. I had never met Ashley's parents, and I already disliked them. Imagine sending your own daughter a Howler all because she didn't live up to family expectations!

Once Ashley had finished crying and had pulled away, I conjured up a couple of tissues and handed them to her. "Did the voice in the Arch speak to you?" I asked.

"Yes," Ashley replied as she wiped her tears away and blew her nose. "It said..." She frowned. "It said that I was destined for great things, and that forcing me to follow family tradition would be a hindrance rather than a help," she said, sounding as if she was reciting facts from a textbook. "It said that my intelligence is my greatest asset."

"And so it put you in Chaldercot," I finished.

Ashley nodded once more. "I'm in so much trouble," she whispered. "I'm going to get it when I go home for Easter."

"We'll go and see Mrs. Debenham before breakfast, all right?" I said. "She'll know how to handle this. It's not the first time this has happened." Though no other kid has copped a Howler just because they were Sorted into the 'wrong' house, I thought darkly. "I promise that she won't let anything happen to you."

I spent the time until breakfast began in the small library that occupied a corner of the compound meeting hall, leafing through a thick, heavy, leather-bound book that had the title The Chaldercot Chronicles embossed in gold on the front cover. It listed each and every graduating member of Chaldercot House, from the mid-1800s all the way to the previous year, along with each student's 'exploits' during school and following graduation. It was essentially a history of our house. My father was listed on the page for 1976.

When the breakfast bell rang at eight o'clock, I left the hall and walked across the compound to the massive wrought-iron gates that guarded the entrance. These gates were keyed to each student from Chaldercot, and only a student from the house could open them. The same gates guarded the entrances of the other three House compounds, each keyed to the members of the houses they guarded. A small knot of maroon-clad students was clustered around the left gatepost, waiting to be 'released' into the school.

"Oh for Hades' sake, open the damn gate," I heard someone muttering. "We're going to be late..."

"Kylia, you can't be hungry again already," another voice said.

"Well, I am!"

Fed up with waiting, I eased my way through the crowd and stepped up to the leftmost gatepost. "Hey, you can't do that!" one of the Grade Ten students said as I pressed my right hand to the panel of black marble that was inset into the gatepost about halfway up.

"I can, and I just did," I said. Without removing my hand from the gatepost, I turned to face the girl - who was short and skinny with dark brown hair and a rather disapproving look on her scrawny face - displaying the five royal blue stars on my robes. "I'm a Grade Eleven student. And the school rules state that any member of the senior class is permitted to open their House compound's gate each morning. So shut up before I hex your mouth shut."

She shut up. Satisfied, I turned back to the gatepost and carefully traced around my left hand with the tip of my wand. When I had finished tracing my hand, the panel glowed blue and the gate swung open. A rough, dusty track extended away from the gate, wending its way toward the large, manor-esque building in the distance.

"We have to walk all that way to get there?" a voice at my elbow asked, and I looked down. Ashley stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of her robes, biting her bottom lip. Everyone else had already left for breakfast

"No, thank Merlin," I replied. I lifted my hand from the marble panel and took Ashley's hand, and we stepped through the gate, onto the manicured lawns of the main school. Behind us was a stone archway, and through it was the same path I had seen from Chaldercot compound, shimmering in the early morning summer heat. "Come on, let's go find Mrs. Debenham; we need to get our timetables, anyway."

We crossed the lawn and entered the main building, and walked down the main corridor to the dining hall. Our Head of House stood at the open doorway of the hall, a thin stack of parchment in her hands. "Good morning, girls," she said as she thumbed through the stack, extracting two sheets of parchment. "Here are your timetables."

"Thanks," I replied, before quickly explaining what had happened that morning. Mrs. Debenham assured the two of us that the school would not allow any harm to befall any Twofold Bay student, particularly if that harm was perpetrated by a member of a student's family, and Ashley and I entered the hall.

Mealtimes at the school were always a grand affair, and breakfast was absolutely no exception. I was always exceedingly thankful for my lightning fast metabolism, not to mention my daily exercise routine and my position as Chaser on the House Quidditch team, otherwise I'd have put on weight long ago. I found a spare seat at the Chaldercot table, between Kilandra and Mark, and reached for the nearby plate of blueberry pancakes. The table was piled with food - platters of bacon, fried tomatoes, and eggs; plates of waffles, pancakes, muffins, and toast; bowls of cereal, fresh fruit salad, and yogurt; frosted jugs of fruit juice. All of my favourite things.

"I think they changed the timetables," Melania was saying to Reagan over a pile of waffles, the lot of which was absolutely drenched in maple syrup.

"Well, duh," Reagan said, as if Melania was of subnormal intelligence. She reached for a jug of mango juice and poured herself a glass. "They change them every year, remember?"

"No, I mean...look at it!" Melania poked her own timetable with the tip of her index finger. "They changed it completely! If I'm not mistaken, now we get a three-day weekend."

Sure enough, Melania was right. I put my fork down on my plate and checked my timetable, and found that the timetable had definitely changed. Instead of eight forty-minute periods five days a week, we now had six one-hour periods four days a week, rotating over a two-week period. Mr. Connelly's announcement near the end of breakfast confirmed it.

"Students, may I have your attention please?" he called. I paused in mopping up the remnants of my bacon and tomatoes - I hated eggs with an absolute passion - with a piece of wholemeal toast, and looked up toward the staff table. A blanket of contented silence soon settled itself over the hall, and Mr. Connelly continued. "Now, if you have all had an opportunity to examine your new timetables, you will note that they have been altered from the usual pattern. We - that is, the combined faculty - have decided to trial a four day week for this school year. If the trial is successful, it will replace the previous timetable." His tone turned stern. "Do not think that you now have a three-day weekend. Fridays are set aside for study and Quidditch training, and the teachers will be enforcing that quite strictly. Twofold Bay is the premier school of magic in the Southern Hemisphere, and it is our intent to have it remain as such. Anyone who chooses to taint the good name of the school will be asked to seriously consider their position as a student here, and may be asked to leave and not return."

When Mr. Connelly had finished his announcement, I examined my timetable. It was divided into Alpha and Beta weeks, with Alpha week being marked with today's date - the first of February. I ran a finger along Alpha week - Mondays I had a free period, Potions, Ancient Runes, double Arithmancy, and History of Magic; Tuesdays I had Transfiguration, double Potions, a double free period, and Ancient Runes; Wednesdays was Arithmancy, double History of Magic, Herbology, and double Transfiguration; Thursdays was History of Magic, double Transfiguration, double Ancient Runes, and a free period. All of that was packed into four seven-hour days, being that we were given a half-hour break every two hours during the school day. It was a lot, granted, but I figured that the teachers believed that we as students were up to the challenge.

I had just drained my glass of apple-and-mango juice, and had swiped a banana-macadamia muffin from the basket in the centre of the table - it was still warm, due to a well-placed Warming Charm on its basket - when the captain and Seeker of the Chaldercot House Quidditch team, Alexis Copeland, sat herself down at the House table next to me. "Hey Alexis," I said.

"Hey Morgan. Listen, d'you think you'll be able to spare a couple of hours on Friday arvo? I've booked one of the Quidditch pitches for a trial and need the whole team there. Well, those of us who didn't graduate last year, anyway."

I nodded. "Sure, I reckon I can be there."

"Great!" Alexis flashed me the trademark Copeland grin and stood back up again. "I'll see you at lunch, maybe?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, now distracted by my muffin.

A bell clanged hollowly just as I was leaving the dining hall, and I picked up the pace. I had Transfiguration first today, and it wouldn't be a good impression if I was late.

The first two classes passed by quickly, and I left the Potions laboratory with my classmates, heading outside to take advantage of the beautiful weather. The sun was already high in the sky, and I decided to apply a Sunscreen Charm before venturing out into the sunshine, not wanting to look like a tomato for the rest of the week. I burned quite easily - a negative side-effect of my English heritage, Mum having moved from England in the mid-1970s - as did my siblings, and so a variety of sun-protection charms were some of the first magic that my father had taught me when I had acquired my wand at the age of eleven. It was interesting that no magical child in Australia was able to start school until the year they turned thirteen, and yet we were permitted to carry wands from the age of eleven. Not that I ever complained about it.

Melania, Reagan and Kilandra were clustered under a weeping willow in a corner of the grounds nearest to the Herbology greenhouses, with what looked like a magazine spread out on the grass between them. As I sat down with them, I saw that Melania had her wand out and was poking at the pages, looking rather perplexed.

"Why won't he move?" she asked as she gave the page she was looking at a rather vicious poke.

"It's a Muggle magazine, dipshit," Reagan reminded her. She pushed Melania's wand out of the way and closed the magazine; it was titled Cosmopolitan. "And I would ask you not to keep poking at my things."

"Mel, Alex's booked one of the pitches for a tryout on Friday afternoon," I said as Reagan put her magazine away, referring to the team captain. "She wants the whole team there."

"Yeah, okay," Melania said. "Is your brother planning to try out again? I mean, he bought a new broom in Sydney when we were there, so that's what I'm assuming."

"I can bet that he is," I replied. "He's going to learn sooner or later, though, that Alex won't let him on the team. He can't ride a broomstick for shit."

From there, we got into a rather spirited discussion about the various Australian Quidditch teams, of which there were nine in total - Wollongong Warriors, Townsville Taipans, Thundelarra Thunderers, Bendigo Miners, Coober Pedy Opals, Launceston Spirit, Tennant Creek Territorians, Nimbin Wanderers, and Kingston Pride. The four of us all had our favourite teams, but there was one thing we all agreed on - the team from Nimbin, despite their controversial in-game antics, were one of the best teams in the Australian Quidditch League, third only to the Thunderers and the Warriors. The team turned up to every match utterly stoned out of their brains, and yet despite that impairment they played some spectacular Quidditch. The team captain and one of the two Beaters, Niara Bell, often played with a Beater's bat in one hand and a joint in the other, and their Keeper, Ian Mulray, kept a lit joint (both of which were charmed to prevent his hair catching alight) behind each ear.

"You reckon your knee'll be up to it?" Reagan asked.

"What?" I asked, Reagan's question having caught me by surprise.

"Your knee," Reagan repeated. "Do you think it'll hold up?"

"Yeah, I reckon it will. I'll probably end up bracing and shielding it before the trial, just in case someone decides to belt a Bludger my way."

The four of us amused ourselves quite easily until the bell to signal the end of first break rang, whereupon we hauled ourselves up off of the grass and went our separate ways.

* * *

The poster had gone up in the school common room on Thursday afternoon. In addition to our House common areas, there was a large room just off of the library that served as a inter-house meeting place. A sign on the door, just under a brass plate reading The Quiet Place, read 'Leave all rivalries at the door' - it was the one and only rule of the common room, and it was one that was strictly enforced. The poster advertised the open positions on each of the House Quidditch teams.

Attention all students:

Quidditch trials will be taking place on the following dates:

Chaldercot and Rathane: February fourth 2000

Rathane: 10:30 am

Chaldercot: 2:30 pm

Grosvenor and Telford: February fifth 2000

Grosvenor: 11:00 am

Telford: 3:30 pm

All prospective and current team members are required to assemble at the Quidditch pitch nearest to the Herbology greenhouses at the time assigned to their House.

Positions Available

Chaldercot

Keeper

Beaters (2)

Grosvenor

Seeker

Chasers (2)

Rathane

Chaser (1)

Telford

Seeker

Keeper

Beaters (2)

Current team members are to wear their team uniforms. Prospective team members should wear attire appropriate for Quidditch. Students in all grades are eligible for selection.

And so it was the next afternoon that I, with my remaining team mates, found myself walking to the pitch nearest to the greenhouses the next afternoon with my broomstick over my left shoulder, my flowing royal blue Quidditch robes swirling around my ankles and brushing the tops of my joggers as I walked. It was a beautiful summer's day - a few cottony puffs of white cloud floated around in the bright blue sky, and the sun hovered overhead.

"Wonderful day for Quidditch," Alexis said as we walked. She walked just ahead of Melania and I, with the third Chaser, Bradley Dawes, bringing up the rear. Though I knew it really wasn't that funny, I had to laugh - Bradley had been the sole male member of the team for the past three years, and unless something happened soon (namely Alexis picking at least one more boy for the team), he would remain as such.

As the four of us walked out onto the pitch, a blanket of silence descended upon the cluster of Chaldercot students sitting in the stands nearest to the northern goalposts, slicing through the hubbub of chatter. Alexis propped her broomstick up against the barrier separating the pitch from the rows of benches, walked out into the middle of the pitch, touched the tip of her Cootamundra wattle wand to her throat, and spoke the incantation for the Amplifying Charm so that she could be heard without needing to shout. "Sonorous." She then tucked her wand into the left sleeve of her Quidditch robes. "All right you lot, listen up! Today we're on the lookout for a Keeper and two Beaters. All of you going in for the Beater position, line up to my right; those of you wanting to try your luck at becoming the new team Keeper, to my left."

As one, the cluster of robed students descended from the stands, separating into two distinct groups as they stepped onto the pitch. I did a quick head count as they lined up either side of Alexis - six were trying out for Keeper, while about three times as many were going in for Beater. Competition was therefore bound to be fierce, especially seeing as Alexis had the final word.

Alexis dug around in the pockets of her robes, pulling out a miniaturised clipboard and quill; she took her wand from inside her sleeve and tapped the clipboard and quill to enlarge them, before returning her wand to its usual hiding spot. With the nib of her quill between her teeth, she thumbed through the sheaf of papers bound to the clipboard until she found what she was looking for. "Morgan, Mel and Brad, get up there and practise while I sort this lot out," she directed.

I gladly complied, mounting my broomstick and pushing off from the ground. My broomstick was an international-standard model, the Phoenix Flyer - the Australian national team flew on them, as did many other teams around the world. It had been a gift from my parents for completing Grade Ten and the CGME exams.

While Alexis explained the tryout process to the potential new team members, Melania Transfigured the Muggle tennis ball that she kept in an inner pocket of her team uniform into a Quaffle, and we Chasers proceeded to pass it back and forth between us. To my immense relief, my knee was holding up well so far.

"I want to practise the Wollongong Shimmy after the tryout," Melania called as she passed the Quaffle to me. I caught it one-handed and immediately passed it to Bradley, and flew off toward the southern goalposts. "We need to have it down pat before we try to use it in a match." She caught the Quaffle deftly and slung it underarm at me.

The tryout soon got well underway - I strengthened the shield around my knee a little more as the Bludgers started hurtling around the pitch. From my position near the centre of the pitch, I could see my brother sitting unsteadily astride his broom, gripping the handle as he drifted in front of the northern goalposts. He looked absolutely petrified. The idiot was clearly out of his comfort zone, but it seemed that the notion was never going to penetrate his thick skull.

The stands slowly filled again over the course of the next half hour. Alexis waved at Bradley, Melania and I when the last flier had moved into the stands, and the four of us descended, stepping up beside Alexis as she spoke to the potential team members. "Thank you everyone, that was great!" she called. "I'll make my decision and post the new team roster in the school common room next Friday. Dismissed!"