𝗟𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘| hjp

6

IT was quidditch tryouts day. Celeste had her uniform on, not showing how nervous she felt as she looked around the groups of Slytherin boys. Not a single girl was in the pitch with them.

The boys were all glancing at her every once in a while in confusion. What was a girl doing in the quidditch pitch? No girl had ever tried out for the Slytherin quidditch team. In fact, there was not a single female player in the Slytherin quidditch team in history. Not a single one.

Celeste ignored them all. They could think whatever they wanted. She would show them. She would show them all—

"Right." Marcus Flint said, looking at them all. He had on his quidditch uniform, his broom in his hand and a quaffle in his other hand. His black hair was being blown by the strong wind. His eyes stopped on Celeste, giving her a doubtful look. "Black, are you sure?" He asked for the third time today.

During breakfast, Flint had seen Celeste with the quidditch uniform on and had asked if she was sure she would tryout. Given the fact that she had been getting looks from every Slytherin since stepping into the great hall. Celeste had assured him again and again that she was sure.

"Yes," said Celeste confidently, the newest broom that Regulus had gotten her over the summer in her hand.

Marcus Flint nodded and looked away. "We need one chaser. The last chaser suffered a very harsh injury thanks to the lions. He thankfully recovered, but he quit. Now, I will need each and every one of you to play against our keeper, Miles Bletchley. You have five shots. Five chances to throw the quaffle into the rings. My other two beaters are going to try to get you killed— erm, I mean, slow you down— and if they don't succeed and you get all five in, by any chance, then you will immediately get the position."

Celeste's hand went to the necklace around her neck and she clutched it tightly for good luck. It was a dark green pendant and it belonged to her mother. She never took it off.

"You—" Flint pointed towards a certain Slytherin. "You first. Fly up and show me what you've got."

"Remember, this team deserves winners. Not losers, not second places— which is even worse than being fourth place, let me tell you. This team deserves winners. And that is what I'm going for." Marcus Flint's voice boomed through the pitch, shouting at the person in the sky. The said person missed. And just a second later, the bludger hit his arm and he was thrown onto the ground.

Most of the Slytherins flinched. Celeste pursed her lips at the boy on the ground, looking at him in pity.

"Get him out of here," said Flint, who hadn't even flinched. "Next."

When it was Celeste's turn, the pitch was completely empty. All the others that were trying out had either not gotten a five out of five score, or they were hit by a bludger. There was no in between.