A sharp autumn chill clung to the air, crisp enough to sting the lungs, as golden leaves spiraled across the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch like confetti. Halloween was days away, but for Gryffindor House, another event stirred just as much excitement—the first Quidditch tryouts of the year.
Cael Vale stood at the edge of the pitch, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his cloak, breath curling in pale wisps as he watched the crowd gathering. Students milled about in clusters, chatter carrying on the breeze, broomsticks slung over shoulders with varying degrees of confidence.
Tradition held that only second-years and above could try out. First-years, it was widely agreed, didn't yet have the endurance—or the bones sturdy enough—for a full season of Quidditch injuries. Even second-years were pushing it, but they at least had a year to toughen up, grow into the bruises and near-death experiences the game practically guaranteed.
Still, Cael had been personally invited to watch by none other than Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, two of Gryffindor's most promising Chaser hopefuls, and by Oliver Wood—the new Gryffindor Captain himself. A broad-shouldered fourth -year with the kind of determined expression usually reserved for war generals or cursed treasure hunters, Oliver radiated nervous energy like a kettle seconds from boiling over.
Word around the common room was that Wood had been waiting for this moment since Charlie Weasley's graduation last spring. Big shoes to fill. And a vacant spot on the team still up for grabs.
"Oi, Vale!" a familiar voice called, cutting through his thoughts.
Fred and George Weasley sauntered over, matching grins plastered across identical faces, brooms resting casually over their shoulders.
"Here to witness history in the making?" Fred—or possibly George—asked, spinning his broom like a baton.
"Try not to fall off during tryouts," Cael replied dryly, eyeing their Cleansweeps. The brooms looked well-used, the kind of equipment held together more by stubbornness than craftsmanship—but serviceable enough for Weasleys.
George nudged his twin, laughing. "He's got cheek. Might fit right in next year."
"Assuming they let him try out before he breaks his neck falling off the Astronomy Tower," Fred quipped.
Before Cael could fire back, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet arrived, both second-years, both carrying sleek, polished brooms with the ease of students born for the skies.
"First-year VIP section?" Angelina teased, raising an eyebrow at Cael.
"Something like that," Cael shrugged. "You lot invited me."
Fred leaned in conspiratorially. "Wood's been vibrating with excitement all week."
George straightened his posture in mock seriousness. "His first speech after getting made Captain—'No distractions, no jokes, Quidditch is life—'"
"—'If I could, I'd replace my heart with a Quaffle,'" Fred finished, clutching his chest with theatrical flair.
Cael chuckled as his gaze drifted toward Oliver, clipboard in hand, barking instructions like he was planning for the Quidditch World Cup rather than a school tryout.
"Figures," Alicia said with a smirk. "You're lucky, first-years don't usually allowed on tryouts ."
Across the pitch, Oliver's voice cut through the chatter, his Scottish accent booming over the crowd. Students groaned good-naturedly at the inevitable speech.
"Oh, here we go again," someone muttered.
"Alright, listen up!" Oliver called, pacing like a man on a mission. "Gryffindor lost a legend when Charlie Weasley graduated—but that doesn't mean this year's over. We've got four positions open: Chasers and Beaters. I'm looking for the best."
His sharp gaze swept over the hopeful faces. "This isn't just about glory—it's House pride. If you think you've got what it takes, mount up and show me."
The tryouts began in earnest. Brooms shot skyward, Quaffles zipped through the air, and Bludgers careened across the pitch with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested they enjoyed hospital visits.
Cael leaned forward, eyes tracking the chaos.
Oliver's gaze locked on the twins. "Weasley twins! Less chatter, more flying. Bludgers don't hit themselves!"
Fred offered a sharp salute. "Aye, Captain."
George winked at Cael. "Watch this."
Moments later, they were airborne, the tryouts unfolding in a dizzying blur of drills. The Chaser candidates wove intricate passes, Quaffles arcing toward goal hoops, while Bludgers roared through the air with a mind of their own—or worse, with Weasley mischief guiding them.
Every so often, one of the twins "accidentally" sent a Bludger skimming inches from Oliver's clipboard or forcing him to duck so low he nearly face-planted into the turf.
"WEASLEYS!" Oliver's voice cracked with frustration, glaring skyward. "Are you aiming for the other team or me?!"
Fred cupped a hand to his ear mid-flight. "Sorry, couldn't hear you over the sound of raw talent!"
George grinned. "We figured, if you can't dodge a Bludger, you've no business near the pitch!"
Angelina Johnson flew like she was born for the skies—sharp turns, flawless catches, her form smooth as silk. Alicia wasn't far behind, weaving through the chaos with quiet precision. The twins, meanwhile, handled the Bludgers like it was all a private joke, their timing so seamless it felt like they shared a brain.
Despite himself, Cael found his grin widening. The trials stretched on, some players faltering, a few excelling, others nursing bruises with grim determination.
By the end, Oliver gathered the group, face unreadable as he jotted furious notes on his clipboard. His eyes lingered on Angelina, Alicia, and the twins.
"Tryouts are over," he announced, still scribbling. "Results posted tomorrow."
But not before glaring pointedly at Fred and George. "If I had a Sickle for every prank you two pulled, I'd buy new brooms for the whole team."
Fred landed beside him, unbothered. "Happy to contribute to the budget."
George clapped Cael on the shoulder as they passed. "Next year, you'll join the chaos."
"Assuming Wood survives till then," Cael replied, deadpan.
Oliver groaned, muttering under his breath, "Merlin help me."
The following week, the Gryffindor notice board confirmed what everyone already suspected—Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were officially named Chasers, while Fred and George Weasley secured both Beater positions.
The Gryffindor team had its fresh blood. Whether it was enough to bring home the Quidditch Cup this year—well, time would tell.