Daniel held the Quidditch try-out sheet in his hand as he stood in the center of the Pitch. He was kind of surprised to have eight names on it. He had feared that he wouldn't even be able to find a full seven after graduating three players last year. But he'd counted the names about a dozen times, and there were definitely eight on there. He couldn't remember the last time Aladren had an alternate.
"Hello," he greeted, once it appeared he had a full set. He didn't know everybody there - Edmond and Samantha were the only people he'd played with before - but the numbers worked out. "My name is Daniel Nash the Second," he introduced himself to those who didn't know him already, "and I'm the captain. Our assistant captain is Edmond Carey," he pointed out Edmond. It shouldn't have been too hard to figure out the team's leadership, given they were the only two people older than third year on the pitch, being sixth and fifth year respectively, but it was best to be clear when it came to the chain of command.
"Okay, so, according to this, the only people who care which specific position they'll play are me and Russell Layne who want to be Chasers, and David Wilkes who wants to be our reserve. So Wilkes, congratulations, you're a reserve. Layne," normally, Daniel might have wanted to see some evidence that Russell Layne could actually play Chaser before giving him his desired position, but there were exactly seven players who wanted to be first string, and Daniel trusted the name 'Layne' - "you're with me as a Chaser."
He looked out at the rest of the group. "For everyone else, I'll try to keep your preferences in mind if you gave me any," he held up the list where most of the players had written 'any' or 'this or this' and I'll see how everyone does in the different positions before assigning roles.
Given Preston's initial opinion on Quidditch before Daniel talked him into signing up, he was expecting that first year to take Keeper for the same reason Grayson Wright had been put there - it was the position where he could do the least damage. Edmond, he was probably going to make Beater, just because he had the size none of the first years did. Samantha would probably be back as Chaser because she'd played that before. So basically, he was really just trying to figure out which of the Carey twins was the Seeker and which should be the other Beater, but maybe Preston would surprise him.
"First, I'd like everyone to introduce themselves, and let me know how much experience you have flying or playing Quidditch." Muggleborn himself, none of them could have less experience than Daniel had when he joined the team, but it was good just to know. Besides, with the team fairly dominated by the Carey surname, he thought he might have actually lucked out with a group of first years who already knew flying and Quidditch basics.
Once they had all done so, he waved toward the pile of brooms he'd collected from the school collection - all of them definitely inferior to his own broom, but they were the top five of what was available for players to borrow - "If you don't have your own broom, get one from the pile, and we'll start with some keeper try-outs." Diplomatically, it was best to at least pretend he wasn't going to stick the worst player there. "I can get an idea for the third Chaser now, too, but there will be another part for Chasers later. David, you'll be taking a turn, too, so I know how well you'd do if you had to sub in."
"So, you," he pointed at one of the players who was 'trying-out' for Keeper - so not himself, Russell, or Edmond - "you're first. Try to stop the rest of us from scoring on you. Use that set of goals," he pointed at the trio of hoops that Gray had guarded during the final game Aladren had won last year. "Everyone else, we're trying to score." He picked up the quaffle and followed the would-be Keeper toward the goals. He tossed the Quaffle (a little off center to see if they caught it) to another player. "You shoot first."
OOC: Okay, so there's a bunch of stuff going on here. I'd like an intro from everyone. For people 'trying out' for Keeper, write about the seven penalty shots you tried to block and how many did or didn't get through. You can either use penalty shots people already wrote or just make up how they went (I'll allow a little god-modding since there is no way we're getting 35 penalty shots written individually).
For people trying out for Chaser (which I'm pretty sure is everyone), write at least one attempt to catch the Quaffle as it's thrown to you and one attempt to throw the Quaffle past the Keeper. If you're trying out for both, you can do both parts in one post if you'd like. It's going to be a little chaotic but just work with it as best you can. Drop me an OOC if you have questions.
Subthreads:
Aladren Try-Outs: Seeker/Chaser by Captain Nash with Preston Stratford, Edmond Carey
Keeper/Chaser trying out by Samantha Hamilton with Arthur Carey, Arnold Carey, David Wilkes
1Captain Daniel Nash IIAladren Try-Outs: Keeper/Chaser130Captain Daniel Nash II15
"Okay," Daniel called out once everyone who needed to take a turn as Keeper finished blocking seven attempts to score. "Besides catching and throwing a Quaffle, the other thing Chasers need to be able to do well is fly quickly. So the next thing we're doing for try-outs is everyone is going to fly as fast as they can from one goal set, to the other and back again. So everyone start by touching this set," he flew his own broom over to the goals that had recently been guarded by five different Keepers.
"Fly over, tag the other set, and fly back. Consider it a race. I'm also counting this as part of Seeker try-outs." Nobody had specifically requested Seeker, but it was the position he was planning to award to the better of the Carey twins - if he could remember which one was which.
"Also, I'm going to be throwing bean bags at you," he summoned a messenger bag up to him from where he'd left it on the ground. "These have been charmed to leave a glowing mark on your clothes if they hit you. Avoid them like you would bludgers. Each glowing mark will count as ten seconds add to your time."
Daniel adjusted the bag over his shoulder for easy access to the beanbags inside. "Everyone ready? The race starts on the word 'go'. On your mark, get set, GO!" He kind of wished he had a whistle to blow or a gun to fire, but the shout would have to work well enough.
OOC: Okay, guys, try to be realistic here. Not everybody can come in first.
After the race, and Daniel had noted down who had done well and who really needed to work on avoiding bludgers, he looked back around at the group of players. "Okay, that concludes Chaser, Keeper, and Seeker try-outs. I would like to have a vision test for anyone trying out for Seeker, but I can do that in the commons later. Right now, anyone who has no interest in playing Beater may go."
Once he was left with only Beater hopefuls, he reached down into the bottom of his messenger bag and passed out the beater bats that had previously been covered by beanbags. From a pocket of his robe, he took out a deactivated bludger - same shape, size, and weight, but without the same vicious bloodlust.
"Everybody left, line up," he instructed. "I'm going to pitch you the bludger and you're going to try to hit it through the center goal. This is a boomerang bludger - it flies the same as a normal one, but it returns to me without trying to kill me once it runs out of momentum. So I'm watching for aim and power here."
He pointed for the second person in line to move back a little to give the first would-be beater a little more swinging room. "Okay, ready?" Daniel pitched the false bludger and then ducked down out of the way.
OOC: Okay, guys, last one. I'm fond of Daniel so please don't kill him. Otherwise, have fun!
Preston was nervous, really nervous. It was the time to go to Quidditch try-outs and show Head Boy Daniel Nash what he was capable of. After he signed-up he wrote to his father requesting Quidditch equipment, his father had been confused by his change of mind, and Preston had patiently explained in a letter everything Daniel had said to him. It was very important to his future career at Sonora, because Quidditch wasn’t just about the game: it was all about achieving academic excellence. After a rather copious correspondence with his father, and several mentions on how Daniel was more or less trustworthy (He was Head Boy, after all), the redhead received the wanted package, a new top of line broom, gloves and training balls. If he was going to do this, he would do it in the manner in which enabled him to be the best.
Before actually practicing, the green-eyed boy went to the Library (where else could one learn?), and read all about Quidditch. After an extensive research on the different positions, rules and whatnot, he decided that the best position for him would be Beater. Keeper, Chaser and Seeker seemed too boring, and beating had a certain lure to the first-year. There was something about sending balls towards others that had a therapeutic aspect to it. It had been decided. After making the life-altering decision, he began to read on different beating strategies. Preston would become the best Beater the Aladren team had ever seen. That is, if Daniel chose him to be part of his team.
The day of the try-out finally came, and Preston was confident enough. He had the equipment and knowledge, the only thing that he was lacking was experience, but that would come with time. He was sure of it. The redhead trotted into the Quidditch Pitch with everything he would need for it, his brand new equipment. He made his way to the rest of the people that was gathered around Daniel (awesome, awesome Daniel!), and listened to what he had to say. During the small speech, Preston made a mental note to talk to him later about he had managed to be what he was.
He followed his instructions and introduced himself after some people did the same, “Preston Stratford, first-year. I have experience flying, but not with Quidditch. Though, I read all about it to be prepared for today.” He said proudly. As Daniel gave more instructions, Preston went to the benches and took a seat to wait for his turn. Chaser, Keeper and Seeker try-outs were before Beaters. The first-year didn’t like to wait, but Daniel had said so.
Finally, it was time for him and the rest of the hopeful Beaters to do their thing. Preston’s body suddenly began to work on adrenaline. A normal occurrence when one played sports and was eager to do it. He would conquer this! And be on his way to academic greatness. The redhead grabbed the offered bat and smiled at Daniel. It was better to have friends in the upper-rings of power, and Daniel was the upper-ring when it came to the student body power hierarchy.
Now, Preston was more than aware that his eleven-year old self was not going to be as capable as other older Beater, but he had confidence, and he would make it. Nerves were beginning to get a hold of him, the need and want to impress Daniel was sort of impairing his rational thoughts. The Beater hopeful closed his eyes to quench his nerves, and when Daniel threw the Bludger at him, he was more than ready.
With a loud crack, the ball collided with the swinging bat.
His green-eyes followed the ball sore through the sky towards the right-centered ring. Unfortunately, the force his eleven-year old arm was able to muster was not enough to make the ball go through it. It began to fall down, when it changed his direction and made its way to Daniel. Preston frowned at his failed attempt and looked at his feet. He hated to fail at things, and now he would not make it into the team. He needed to gain force in his arms...
He arrived early to Quidditch try-outs anyway – Edmond liked arriving where he was supposed to be early, and now it was almost his duty, both as Assistant Captain and, as prefect, to set an example for the student body – but seeing the names of two of his cousins on the sign-up sheet had inspired Edmond to leave the mathematics assignment he wasn’t having the best luck with anyway and search the twins out before heading down to the Pitch, making him a few minutes later than he would have liked. It had been worth it, though, because the moment they’d seen him approaching, Arnold and Arthur had done the exact thing in the boys’ corridor he’d been afraid they’d do at try-outs and started bowing. Considering how pleased Daniel was with his positions, which were superior to Edmond’s, and how pleased Edmond was with the way the student and staff bodies of Sonora usually treated him as though his father was still an active member of the family, he had felt the need to correct this behavior before it could even start.
Arthur had given him a sort of calculating look Edmond hadn’t liked, and Arnold had seemed very disturbed and almost confused, but he was now reasonably confident that they were not going to create a scene. They would, he knew, adjust to the fact that things were different at school soon, just as he had, but he would rather they didn’t embarrass themselves or him in the meantime.
“Good day,” he said to Daniel when he finally arrived. The twins had possessed the good grace to leave a moment after he did, so they were only just coming onto the Pitch. Good. He did not want to trail them for the next three years.
He had never been particularly comfortable with his size, but he felt even less comfortable in the midst of so many first years. The Carey family did not run to very tall people, but Grandmother Carey-St. Martin’s did, and his father had taken after them – Morgaine said he had been around six foot four – and then married a tall woman, Edmond’s mother. His sisters had both missed that particular trait even with it coming from both sides, but Morgaine expected he would be as tall as Father by the time he was done growing upward. He already felt about seven feet tall as he was introduced to the rest of the team, all of whom were very…short. Even Daniel was at least an inch shorter than he was.
They already knew his name, so Edmond wasn’t quite sure how to begin the introduction and decided to stick to the familiar. “Good day, everyone,” he said. “My name is Edmond Carey, as Daniel told you.” Should he have called him Captain Nash? Normally, Edmond called him Daniel, but no one had ever taught him the etiquette of the assistant captain of a Quidditch team, only to remain formal if he was uncertain about the advisability of being informal. “I’ve played both Beater and Chaser before – Chaser, I think, my first year on the team, and Beater since.” He thought. It was hard to keep the exact chronology straight. Quidditch was an important part of his life here, but not that important. “I’ll be happy to take that position again,” he added, mostly to Daniel. He supposed he’d make a decent Keeper, too, but that was traditionally the position of the worst player on the Aladren team, so being the largest person out here would be of more benefit to the team if he used the ability it gave him to hit things very hard at opposing Seekers, and away from whomever was the team’s new Seeker. “Er – where was I – I’ve also flown recreationally before Sonora, and played – I suppose you’d call it variant Quidditch during family reunions.”
Satisfied that this met the requirement for an introduction, at least in a general sense in this context, he listened to the other introductions, not really paying much more attention to the twins than he did to anyone else. They looked so little alike that it was quite possible they wouldn’t even be taken for relatives except by purebloods, who’d know.
He assisted with throwing things at the Keepers, was slightly alarmed by Arnold’s lack of fear for his neck during the race, and then watched the team’s new redhead, Mr. Stratford, try his hand with the modified Bludger. It wasn’t the best hit he’d ever seen, but it was better than he’d expected when the younger boy had proudly admitted that all he knew about the game was what he knew from reading. He was the strongest believer in reading and how it could replace experience that he knew of, but when it came to actually doing something physical…well, that didn’t work as well. In his experience, anyway.
He hadn’t had many opportunities to practice over the summer, so while he was able to hit the Bludger as well as ever, his aim was a little off, and it went more between the center and the left hoop. Lowering the bat as the ball came back, he made a mental note to find something he could practice aiming with next summer, so there was no need to catch up again in his sixth year.
Samantha wasn't sure if she was more nervous or excited as she showed up for Quidditch try-outs. Her stomach felt gurgly so it was definitely one of those two emotions. She had on blue joggers and sweater in support of Aladren, and she wasted no time in finding the best school broom she could when Daniel instructed them to. It was altogther a different feel from her first try-out. Then, Samantha had barely been able to fly, and she'd been the youngest person trying out. now, seeing as three of Aladren's team members from the past year had graduated, the team was a lot younger, and there were loads of first years trying out. Samantha felt older, more experienced, and more ready for this than ever before. Taking her second year out from Quidditch had maybe been a good thing after all.
When those who'd signed up for Keeper had to try out, Samantha flew up first to the hoops. She'd played keeper for her brothers a lot in backyard soccer, but she hadn't tried it on a broom before. She thought she was okay at Chaser, she was simply considering other options when she'd signed the sheet at the start of term. The first shot came as a bit of a shock. She'd been okay at catching passes, bu that's when the ball was being thrown directly towards her. now it was almost the opposite - the other potential team members were aiming the ball where Samantha wasn't. She lunged after the first shot too late, and it went straight through the left hoop. Okay, more focus needed on the second one. As it sailed to her right, Samantha sped over to it , and tried to catch it but fumbled and it, too, went through the hoop - she had slowed its progress but that was all. It was about at this point she remembered she didn't actually have to catch the balls, just stop them from going through the hoops. Idiot.
From there onwards, the third year did a lot better. She hit the third shot out the way with the palm of her right hand with an almighty stretch, and the fourth shot she kicked away with her left ankle. It sort of hurt, though, so she kept in mind not to do that again if she could help it. The fifth shot was trickier - she hadn't be paying attention to who threw it, but realized a little too late that they'd feinted left but ultimately thrown right, and she had already started off in the opposite direction. She let that one in, but she actually managed to catch the sixth and seventh shots (though the last one might have been a fluke) so she'd saved more than half. It could have been a great deal worse.
Relieved that she hadn't looked like a complete idiot, Samantha vacated the goals and went to join in as a Chaser while someone else their turn tryoing out for Keeper.
Arthur remained externally calm, as much because he refused to show weakness in front of outsiders and didn’t want Arnold to make fun of him as any other consideration, but as he and his brother made their way down to Quidditch tryouts, he felt slightly shaken.
He supposed he’d known, intellectually, that not every possible threat was going to go along with his desire to observe it from a distance without engaging until he decided the time was right, but Edmond’s decision to make contact before heading down to the Pitch ahead of him and Arnold was the first time he’d ever seen it happen. Nothing bad had happened, he’d just politely asked that they at least call him by his given name and not bow or anything around the rest of the team, and it had given him new information to consider, but still – Arthur had grown up knowing that being noticed by the Savannah Careys was something bad, and he had been almost convinced that Edmond really didn’t know he had relatives at Sonora, as he usually appeared to have his head in the clouds. He knew he of all people should have known that could be a ruse, and that it was entirely possible Arnold had gone and introduced himself like an idiot at some point, but he hadn’t expected it, and Arthur didn’t like things he couldn’t anticipate.
Most of the time. If Aladren somehow succeeded in winning a game, that would be something he didn’t anticipate, but he thought he might like it. It was important to act very above it all, but no one said what he could think, and he thought he liked to win. It was something as deeply necessary for him as it was for Arnold, but then, most things didn’t affect him as much as they did his twin. He didn’t understand why, either, and it bothered him more than he thought the certain loss of a team so heavily populated by first years was going to.
He paid careful attention to what the captain was saying, resigned to a long, irritating afternoon. Curse Arnie for convincing him this was a good idea. Things like that were why he was going to have to work out a way around only having a limited supply of his potions without writing home or going to the medic for more, most likely being denied, and having Mother and Father think he was a budding reprobate on top of it all. For now, though, there was nothing to do but set his expression in a mild smile and go along with it. Quitting, once he was committed, was bad form, it looked terrible and would make people think poorly of him – either that he wasn’t able to handle stress and competition, or that he was erratic and didn’t things through enough before he jumped into them. Those things would be more irritating, and harder to recover from, than this almost could be, assuming maiming wasn’t permitted at Sonora.
“I am Arthur Carey, of the South Carolina Careys,” he said when it was his turn to introduce himself. Perhaps he should have left off his branch, since no one else had used theirs and some of the company might not even have one, but that was as essential a part of his identity as anything else, and he didn’t think he’d introduced himself without it since he’d been old enough to structure sentences more complex than “I Arf, he Nold.” And he wasn’t completely convinced he had actually ever referred to himself and Arnold as such and that someone hadn’t just made up an allegedly “cute” story when he and Arnold failed to do anything “cute” and then leaked it into family mythology.
But there was another part of the introduction. “Mother says I was first given a toy broomstick when I was two, and I’ve had something ever since,” he added. He decided not to tell them that his second toy broomstick, at four, had malfunctioned, sending him hard into a wall; they said his left shoulder would probably stiffen earlier in life than it would have otherwise, and he’d noticed that he had a harder time telling how hard he’d hit something with that hand than he did with his right, but he had also gotten a trust fund from the bargain. “I learned the basic rules and strategies of Quidditch from my father.” He didn’t see the need to go further with that, either. If he played down his skill with them, it would go badly for him, but anything else would be interpreted, depending on how well he did today, as lies or bragging.
He’d planned to wait a moment, then volunteer to be the first to try out, but the captain messed it up. Arthur watched, mildly annoyed, as the girl, Samantha, took first place. And then blocked his shot. And then didn’t block Arnold’s. Sports were really more Arnold’s world than they were Arthur’s, so he might not have minded that so much, but did his brother really need to look quite so pleased with himself?
Of course the answer was yes.
Next, it was his turn. Second, after a reasonably successful first. He was not, he was afraid, going to look very good by comparison. He smiled as he flew up to the goal hoops, though, because that was how it was done. Always smile, he could hear Father saying. It’s the polite thing to do.
Since he had noticed the rather ominous way Arnold was smiling when Arthur was picked to go next, he was aware that his brother was going to try something, and managed to block that one with ease. The second shot, however, was a loss; it nearly hit him in the head, which would have been the desirable outcome, but he ducked by instinct and it went through. Flustered, he missed the next one, but stopped the next two and only just missed the last two. Arms too short, height disadvantage, unusual phenomenon for him - he hadn't been too much around older children, only himself and his brothers and adults. He supposed it wasn’t too bad. He rejoined the Chasers’ side as the next candidate went forth.
“Arthur,” Arnold said wearily as they approached the entrance to the Quidditch Pitch and his twin was still clearly off in his own little world. “Do you really need to think about everything?”
Since Arthur didn’t seem to hear him, or at least feel the need to admit he’d heard him, Arnold assumed the answer was yes.
Of course, he didn’t really know what to think of the situation he was pretty sure was the situation his brother was obsessing over, either, but Arnold also didn’t feel the need to reason it out. As long as he did what he was told, he should be all right, and it wasn’t as if Edmond had given them very complicated instructions. Or, really, inexplicable ones. Arnold thought he could see, after a few days here, why it might be awkward to have family formalities carried out here, where many people didn’t seem to think of that kind of thing, never mind observe it. But Arthur had to make something out of everything.
Arnold didn’t like thinking like that. He couldn’t fathom how Arthur’s mind worked, or Father’s, or the Fourth’s and Belinda’s. People like that had even found ways to make kids’ Quidditch political, he had heard, and the entire point of Quidditch was bragging rights over his cousins, or whoever he happened to be playing against. It wasn’t supposed to be something he had to analyze like an application problem.
With that thought in mind, he listened to the captain without going into exact meanings of words, or Edmond’s lack of a real role, or how his brother introduced himself, or anything like that. Instead, he stood up slightly straighter after Arthur finished and kept it simple. “I’m Arnold Carey, also of the South Carolina Careys,” he said. “We’re twins, so my experience is the same as his.” He saw no need to repeat the spiel about their parents, after all, particularly since he was fairly sure it wasn’t a good idea to talk too much about parents at school. They came to school so they could learn to get along without their parents, didn’t they?
Well, and to learn to do magic, and meet people to marry, but that was beside the point.
The one girl and his brother were the first ones put up as Keepers, and, he supposed because he was standing next to Arthur, Arnold was up next. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, since he knew he was no good as Keeper and Arthur really hadn’t been that bad, but it was like possibly having to call Edmond that to his face – it was strange, he didn’t exactly like it, but he’d been told to do it by someone who outranked him when he had no real reason not to, so that was what he was going to do.
He was concentrating hard, so he got the first and second shots. The third involved a complicated feint, though, and he missed it. Got the fourth, missed the rest. His expression was grim as he rejoined the Chasers at the end of it. He was quick enough, he knew he was, but he had little experience going sideways that way so much. Not that he could explain that, which just made it frustrate him that much more.
Spontaneity was, if he wanted to get all technical about it, something David was good at. The more plans he laid, the fewer of them ever got anywhere near done, but when he winged it, it was all good. Usually. He’d never left an assignment undone, anyway, and that was about as much responsibility as he had in life. But it only worked when he didn’t plan to do it, and had to scramble at the last minute.
That did not mean spontaneity was something David liked. It led to all kinds of things that, on reflection, might not have been the best ideas. Like signing up to be the Quidditch extra when that meant having to be able to do everything, training for it regardless of whether he did it or not.
Still, it was a nice day out, and everyone seemed like pleasant people. He was going to focus on that. It was a nice day, with nice folks. Yeah. That was the upside, and he was going to look at it. Finding the good side – even if it was only “this has to end eventually, even if it’s just the lead-in to something worse” – had gotten him through life for twelve years without too much trouble, so David saw no reason to fix things that weren’t broken.
When his turn to introduce himself came along, he half-waved to everyone to identify himself as the guy speaking. He sometimes felt like he was oddly easy to overlook, like he could turn the wrong way and be invisible. “Hi,” he said. “I’m David.” Wizards, like all these Careys they had to work with, seemed to introduce themselves a lot more formally, but he had never felt right doing it. Shaking hands was as formal as he got, a habit picked up from his grandfather, but when it was impractical, like it was with seven other people on a schedule, even that went by the wayside. “I made an O in flying lessons last year, and that’s about it.”
Most people, he knew, thought of flying lessons as an easy O, but David had been as proud of that mark as any other he’d gotten. He figured that, since he’d started with absolutely nothing but some misconceptions from Muggle literature, anything he did right was a pretty big deal, and a testament to the perseverance of the human spirit, or however that Thomas Jefferson or John Locke or whoever babble went.
Then they started doing things. Samantha the third year and the Carey twins went first, then it was his turn to try being the Keeper, even though he wasn’t exactly trying – he could tell the semantics of this were going to get complicated, and was glad he was only slightly pedantic and could cut it out after a few minutes once he started to irritate himself trying to be precise, because this was not an important issue where precision of language was really a big deal. He was pretty sure the weirdos in The Giver wouldn’t care about this one, that was how not big of a deal it was, because he was trying to play air goalie in variant soccer either way.
He didn’t do that great a job at it, missing more than he got, though he was impressed by the way he managed to kick, more by accident than design, the fourth out past the person who’d thrown it at him. There was a reason, though, why he was playing back-up, and that was because he didn’t know the game all that well yet, so he went back to earth without too many hard feelings.