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Madam Grating

Slytherin Quidditch Tryouts

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Madam Grating

September 21, 2041

 

Cloudy, with a light, misty rain. There is a distinct chill in the air that may seep into your bones.

 

A new year, new colleagues, and new but still indistinguishable children's faces looking out at her from the stands. She was already on her broom, it had been too long since she'd had a chance to fly and she figured she had a better chance of dodging a few of the raindrops if she were extra mobile. She surveyed the crowd of potential athletes and magically amplified her voice.

 

"The Quidditch Pitch is to be respected as a place of great triumph and sour defeat," she began, in a low and ominous tone, "and my fellow officials and I will not tolerate any lollygagging or tomfoolery on this pitch. You are here to measure your skills as an athlete and to show us your competence in the air. You are decidedly not here to misbehave, and for Merlin's sake you are not here to fall to your death."

 

And those were the ground rules covered with the least amount of enthusiasm she could possibly muster up. Glancing back at her new colleagues, she hoped to Merlin they weren't the enthusiastic type, it would put a damper on her apathetic sneering.

 

"When I call out your house, you will run down to the pitch and take a lap around the edge before grabbing a school broom." She wouldn't mention that they were the same brooms recently recovered from the 3 year blast-ended skrewt and firecrab infestation and hadn't been thoroughly tested. But she also hadn't mentioned the infestation to her new colleagues, and there were parts of a job that new hires did not need to know. "You will then advance to each of the stations set up around the pitch and complete the tasks at each one, as quickly and accurately as you can."

 

She waved vaguely to Mr Hartley, Mr Nettleton, Mx Padeaux, and Mr Snout, "We will be stationed around the pitch to supervise and answer any worthwhile questions you might ask." 

 

"Slytherin! Look sharp and get out here."

 

. . . . . .

 

Welcome to Quidditch Tryouts. This topic is open to all Slytherins who want to RP trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch Team. You do not have to sign up for the team OOC to post here. If you would like to play in the cup games, please sign up here.

 

You will be able to claim 2 QP for each 100 word post, up to a total of 12 QP per character.

 

This thread will close in two weeks, after February 24.

Edited by The Golden Snitch

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Dale McQueen-Trengrove

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d a l e MCQUEEN-TRENGROVE

POST #1 | WORD COUNT: 251

 

Despite the chily air and the light misty sort of rain, Dale was sitting in the stands along with everyone else who was there to tryout. Losing in a broom race to @Zachary Montague had done nothing to wane his confidence for trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. Speed was not where his real talent laid on the Quidditch pitch anyhow. He was excited to finally be able to show off why he had been so good back in the junior Ireland Quidditch teams. He had no doubt that both Montagues were going to show up and tryout.

 

Admittedly Zach was a good flier; he had not seen Gabe in action, but assumed that he would also be by virtue of the fact that they were twins. 

 

He was most displeased though to find out they would be running a lap around the Quidditch pitch first before being able to grab their brooms. All the good school brooms would probably be taken by the time he got to the pitch and he would be left with one that bucked awkwardly or something. Maybe there was a way he could get a head start. At least he wasn't sitting high up in the stands. He had purposefully chosen a spot close to the stairs and towards the front of the stands. 

 

His house was called and then instinctively he was off, barreling down the stairs as fast as he could go, not caring if he bumped someone out of his way. 

 

(ooc: got carried away)

 

 

 

 

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Zachary Montague

Zachary Montague

First Year Slytherin {post #1}

 

Bloody @Dale McQueen-Trengrove. Of course he was here. Of course he wanted to play quidditch. 

 

Zach had blanked out Dale telling him that he'd played in the Irish leagues as a kid, figuring that he'd just made it up to sound cool. Ugh. Just what he needed. Zach glanced over to see what Gabe thought of the situation but his brother was focused on listening to the instructions the official was giving them which... well, that was the most sensible thing to be doing. Zach forcibly put all thoughts of Dale McQueen-Trengrove to one side and focused on the tryouts. 

 

The first thing they were instructed to do was run a lap. What was it with Hogwarts staff and refusing to let them touch a broom? First Madam Wilde-Hextor, now Madam Grating. It was as if they thought the first years were going to automatically die on their first flight. It took a lot of effort for Zach not to roll his eyes at the instruction and instead focus on the positive: she'd said they could have the broom after running the lap, which hopefully meant they would be allowed to fly.

 

When their house was called, Zach stood and stretched his arms up above his head, cracking the muscles. A few students set off straight away but certain habits had been drilled into him for years and so he rested one foot on the bench in front of him and then the other, stretching out his muscles first. It probably wasn't necessarily for a short jog around the pitch but habits were hard to break. A few moments later, he set off.

 

 

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Damaris Denton

Damaris took a moment to stretch before the beginning of tryouts. She hadn't played a real Quidditch match in so long, and now she was itching to get back into the air. So far, there were two things that struck her, there were an awful lot of younger students, and there were an awful lot of boys that were waiting to take their shot at getting a spot on the team. They probably knew about as much about Quidditch as Kaleb Kennedy did. 

 

She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

 

When Madam Grating called for Slytherin to come down to the pitch, she was off, settling into a run as she made her way through the lap. She felt like she was keeping up a good pace--she had run so many laps when Kirk and Abby were captains of the team that one lap around the pitch was a piece of cake.

 

A smirk made its way across her features as she grabbed a broomstick in one fluid motion, and kicked off the ground. 

 

WC: 174

Post #1

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Winsome Tenpenny

How in the world was she talked into this?

 

The simple answer was it was probably something she had signed up for on accident. She just remembered getting something of a reminder in the post in the morning that she had to go down to the quidditch pitch before too long. In fact, she had almost ignored it, but it was only when she remembered something that @Willa Henry had told her after the duel over the beds that ended up with her putting quill to paper and writing her name down on the quidditch sign up sheet. This didn't change the fact that Winsome still didn't care about flying and quidditch. The taunt from Willa had stuck in her mind as she rolled her eyes down to the quidditch pitch.

 

She muttered a few choice words about Willa's taunt and then sighed as she heard Madam Grating's call towards the Slytherins that were filing their way towards the pitch and finally got to her name.

 

Winsome reluctantly grabbed and broom and stared at Madam Grating and sighed, "Do I have to use this? Isn't there a much better and safe mode of transport for this game?"

 

There was that snark again with how she emphasized the word game.

 

word count: 209

post: #1

(ooc i also got carried away, but not as much as Dale lol)

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Gulliver Nott

Gulliver Nott, Slytherin First Year

POST 1 ≈ 175 WORDS

 

As per usual, Gulliver was only half awake for Quidditch tryouts: it had taken shaking from both Zachary and Gabriel to get him out of bed, dressed, and down to the pitch in time for the session, and the boy was still yawning as Madam Grating gave them their instructions. The dreary weather didn’t help: Gull’s favorite thing to do when the sun was hiding and the clouds were kings was curl up on the couch with Grumble and a good book. Running laps and listening to Dale talk about…well…anything were not high up on his list of things to do in the rain.

 

But he did want to make the team (Hen would be angry with him if he didn’t), so the small boy heaved himself from his seat on the bench and joined his sister and the Montague boys as they set off around the pitch, lolling behind for a few moments before he found his stride in the slushy mud and took off with rather impressive pace for such a drowsy boy.

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Damaris Denton

Merlin, even though it had been two years since she'd last played a Quidditch game, she was feeling confident in her abilities. She was able to hold the broom steady, and she even felt like she could still hit a bludger with maximum force if she had to. That had always required skill--you needed to be able to balance yourself on your broom, while at the same time taking a swing at a bludger that was going incredibly fast and hurtling directly toward your face. Maybe she was as good as she thought she was.

 

She took a lap around the Pitch, before she advanced to one of the stations. One of the first stations she decided to go to involved dodging bludgers, which she absolutely hated with an incredible passion. She gritted her teeth and bobbed and weaved through the bludgers, trying as hard as she could to avoid being hit.

 

After a few moments, it already began getting easier to dodge without needing to hold her broom so tightly her knuckles were turning white. She took a deep breath and wondered if that was part of the issue--maybe dodging was easier when you weren't stressed out.

 

Post #2

WC: 198

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Zachary Montague

Zachary Montague

First Year Slytherin {post #2}

 

Zach had just finished his lap of the pitch when he noticed Gull. It was such a startling sight seeing the sleepy boy so active and alive that Zach slowed down as he reached the school-issue brooms, coming to a complete stop to watch as Gull made his way around the pitch. Gulliver didn't look like a quidditch player at all, with his tiny freckly stature, spindly limbs and constant yawning yet, here he was. 

 

Zach picked up one of the brooms, resting it on his shoulder, and picked up another to lean on like a cane as he watched Gull complete the lap around the pitch. "Hen bully you into it?" he asked, handing over the broom he'd rested on his shoulder. "Lose a bet? Here out of familial duty?" It did not occur to him that Gulliver might be at quidditch tryouts out of his own desire to play. Quidditch was brutal and fast-paced and required people to have energy. None of these adjectives seemed to match Gulliver Nott. 

 

When Gull took the broom, Zach stepped onto his own and kicked off from the ground, taking to the skies. The moment he was there he felt more relaxed with the wind in his air and the ground no longer between his feet. The last time he'd done this it had been against Dale in a race late at night, one which Zach had won. He hadn't yet been able to play quidditch, however, or even touch a beater's bat or quaffle or snitch. Until now. 

 

A memory surfaced, of Honorine mentioning Gulliver playing quidditch, then he remembered a few casual mini-games the four of them had played with Covey as kids. Not full quidditch, but they'd used his dad's practice gear. Gulliver was sleepy and half-dreaming most of the time, but he knew how to fly and could catch a quaffle. Maybe being part of a team was what he needed to finally get him out of his head. Zach waited for Gulliver to join him and re-orientate himself and then Zach indicated the station near the hoops with a movement of his head. "Lets go score some goals."

 

He turned away with a casual confidence he only ever had in the air, heading off to the station without checking to see if Gulliver was following. It was a move his brother did all the time, suggesting something then heading off with the utter confidence of a leader who was used to always being followed. For him, Zach was always happy to walk half a step behind.

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Gulliver Nott

Gulliver Nott, Slytherin First Year

POST 2 ≈ 193 WORDS

 

Slightly winded but no longer yawning, Gulliver accepted the proffered broom from Zach and blinked blandly at him in response to his rather imprudent question. Gull had been flying since the moment he could walk, and liked to think he could hold his own at least to an extent when it came to brooms at Quidditch.

 

“We used to play together,” he said flatly to his friend, who, in rising off the ground on his broomstick, likely didn’t hear him. Gulliver sighed and mounted his own broom, scooping up a smaller-sized practice quaffle. He remembered rather fondly the five of their flock playing together, Covey acting as referee because (she said) she knew the game best, or because (Hen said) she was just the bossiest. He was not surprised she wasn’t trying out: Covey had always preferred watching and commentating and correcting to actually competing.

 

Gull, hovering low now, swallowed another yawn and took off after Zach, who was playing the part of the leader in Gabriel’s absence. Gull didn’t mind: he’d follow pretty much anybody if it meant he didn’t have to lead himself.

 

He tossed the ball to Zach.

 

“You first?”

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Dale McQueen-Trengrove

POST #2 | WORD COUNT: 159

 

He finished his run, uncomfortable though as it was, and then grabbed a broom. It was of course a crappy school broom but at least it was not bucking or doing anything weird. It flew straight enough although not as good as the brooms that professionals used or whatever. He decided to fly away (for the time being) from @Zachary Montague and @Gulliver Nott for the time being and went to the stations that involved bludgers. 

 

A part of him wanted to save this station for when Zach and Gabe could actually see him in his element so to speak but whatever. Perhaps they would notice him hitting bludgers with practiced ease. 

 

The station sent two in a row at him and Dale moved to hit each one of them back. He was tempted to fire one at his enemies but he knew he would have no chance of making the Quidditch team if he did that. 

 

Easy peasy. 

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Honorine Nott

honorine nott

     ☠ SLYTHERIN, SECOND YEAR

     ☠ POST ONE, 181 WORDS

 

Honorine Nott was born to fly.

 

Or rather, she was born for any sort of sport that allowed for the guise that she might enjoy team sports, but in reality allowed her to have fun all by herself. Quidditch was, really, a set of solitary acts that somehow came together for the good of a fabricated whole; and this suited her just fine. Better than fine, however, was the opportunity to break some heads with her brother, her friends, and even her enemies.

 

Where was Eleanor, anyway?

 

She dipped down to touch her toes one more time before taking off at a steady trot around the pitch, grateful that Mabel wasn't here to gloat about how much their exercises for the past two weeks had managed to prepare her for this moment. Her eyes turned upward and a rare grin formed on her face. "Hold a bat for me, Onion Boy, I'll be joining you in just a minute!" She shouted, sprinting the rest of the way and swinging herself up onto a random broom, airborne in no time at all.

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Eleanor Malverne

Post One

WC: 185

 

Eleanor, much as she refused to admit despite @Honorine Nott's persistent declarations, was snoring. Snoozing, even. Lost in the fantasy of her dreams, she drooled onto her expensive Japanese linen pillowcase. In point of fact, this time her snores were so loud that she awakened with a start, oblivious to the noise she had been making. Looking around the room, she immediately noticed that it had to be late in the morning, because the room was empty.

 

And today was tryouts.

 

Grabbing her gear, Eleanor broke into a sprint out of the dungeons and raced to the Pitch, making it just in time to jog a huffy lap and grab a broom. She noticed immediately that Slytherin seemed to have the largest showing for tryouts, and that most of the recruits were first years with a smattering of older students.

 

Plus Honorine.

 

There are some things you can't share without ending up kind of, maybe, perhaps liking someone sort of, and bullying mentoring a first year was one of them. She joined the little group near the Beaters station, and got ready to start swinging.

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