That morning, from early on, Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint were already arguing on the Hogwarts grounds.
"Flint! This is our practice time! I even got up early for it! I want you out of here right now!"
"Wood, don't get so worked up. This place is big enough for all of us to use, isn't it?"
One was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the other the captain of Slytherin. They were hereditary enemies, like dogs and cats.
"I reserved this pitch!"
"Hah. We've got special permission from Professor Snape."
With a smirk, Flint showed a memo. Written on it was the following line:
"I, Professor Snape, hereby permit Slytherin to use the Quidditch pitch today for the purpose of training new members."
"New members? Who exactly is that supposed to be?"
Now for the question.
In the Slytherin team, which fundamentally worships physical ability, there is a witch who, despite being only a second-year, possesses overwhelming technique and a beauty so striking that every spectator is left transfixed. She became the first female player in three years since the retirement of the current Head Girl, Gemma Farley. Who could she be?
That would be me.
"Me."
When the Gryffindor players saw me confidently peek out from behind Wood, they were struck speechless. No doubt they were so dazzled by my beauty that words failed them.
"I'm here too, you know!"
Draco hurriedly stepped out from behind me, wearing a mocking expression across his pale face. Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"You were there…"
Harry has been saying things like that quite often lately.
"It's not just a roster change. Let me show you this wonderful gift my father Malfoy has so generously provided."
At Flint's signal, the seven of us moved as one and thrust forward our brand-new brooms. The gleaming, polished handles bore the words "Nimbus 2001" in beautiful golden lettering.
"It's the latest model. It only came out last month."
Flint said it casually and brushed away a speck of dust from the tip of his broom. As expected, the shock was so great that the Gryffindor team could not utter a sound.
It was decided.
"Wasn't that pretty cool just now, Pansy-senpai?"
"Yeah. All that early-morning practice really paid off."
"Shut up, you lot!"
Snapped at by Flint, I shrank back together with Adrian Pucey.
**
As all this was going on, I noticed Ron and Hermione coming over from the stands.
"What's going on? Why aren't you practicing? And why is Elaina over there!?"
"Well, actually, I passed the Slytherin Chaser tryouts."
"Seriously!?"
Mouth hanging open, Ron stared me up and down, from head to toe, at me now dressed in a Slytherin uniform.
"Th-that's surprising… I mean, I always thought you weren't really interested in Quidditch."
"Well, to be honest, I'm not that interested."
"Then why did you even try out?"
"On a whim?"
"Right. Let's go apologize to everyone who failed the tryouts."
Sadly, in this world, ability is everything.
The Slytherin team holds Chaser tryouts every year. For example, one test is extremely simple yet demanding: riding a broom while holding the Quaffle, and seeing who can evade the active team members trying to steal it for the longest time.
"It sounds kind of fun. Let's just give it a shot!"
It started with Millicent Bulstrode saying that. I went along with Daphne and the others, thinking, "I feel like my body's been getting a bit sluggish lately, so I'll treat it as some light exercise and try out."
"A promising big rookie appears!"
"Hey, Flint, don't let this one get away!"
"Please, join the team!"
From early afternoon until evening, I kept escaping without being caught, setting a new all-time record. In the end, Captain Marcus Flint personally asked me to join the team.
My passing and shooting results were average, but with overwhelming broom control, I pushed past the rest of the muscle-brained crowd and secured my spot.
Incidentally, Draco the Seeker is also on the smaller side, so this year's Slytherin lineup is said to be unusually well-balanced between physical strength and technique.
"That's not all, Weasley. I'm Slytherin's new Seeker. And my father sent these to the entire team. We were just admiring our Nimbus 2001s together."
As Ron stared in stunned silence, Draco piled it on.
"If you're jealous, Gryffindor could always pool your funds and buy new brooms too. If you put your current ones up for a charity auction, a museum would probably buy them."
As the Slytherin team burst into laughter, Hermione shot back firmly.
"Even without brooms like that, Gryffindor won't lose! Not a single one of our players was chosen with money. We became players purely through talent."
"Except Harry's Nimbus 2000," I muttered under my breath.
At Hermione's words, Draco's smug expression twisted.
"No one asked for your opinion, you filthy Mudblood."
"And yet you can't beat her academically, pureblood," I muttered again.
"Elaina, be quiet!"
"Yes…"
Deflated, tears welling in my eyes, I retreated behind Flint's back. I had tried to mediate, but if they were just going to brush it off, then they could do whatever they wanted.
"How dare you!"
"Malfoy, you'll pay for that!"
Whether it was the Weasley twins trying to jump him, or Ron getting so angry that he cast a curse and ended up vomiting slugs himself, I no longer cared.
Slightly sulking, I leaned on my hand at the back, grumbling about how practice still had not started yet, and watched the chaos between the two teams from a distance.
***
And so, after Ron retreated while vomiting slugs, we finally began practice.
"Well then, this is my first time riding a Nimbus 2001, so I'll just check how it feels and—"
"Hey, you there, second-year. What do you think you're doing?"
Just as I was about to swing myself onto my broom, Flint-senpai approached with a suspicious look on his face.
"Hm? Aren't we about to practice Quidditch?"
"We are."
"Then shouldn't I get on my broom?"
By the very nature of the sport, brooms are indispensable in Quidditch. I thought I was doing the obvious thing, but Flint-senpai snorted and said curtly,
"It's still too early for you rookies to practice with brooms. First, you build up your bodies. We're doing endurance runs."
"Huh?"
I glanced at the other members and saw that they were already doing warm-ups like stretches.
Is this maybe, or rather definitely, a hardcore athletic club?
"Um, but—"
"No buts. No riot police either. Sports are all about stamina."
Before I could help myself, Flint-senpai grabbed me by the back of the collar and dragged me toward the field.
"B-but I thought I got in because of my broom skills, not my physical strength…"
"Even so. Quidditch doesn't end until the Snitch is caught. Matches can easily last for hours. What are you going to do then if you don't have the stamina?"
"Well, that is…"
"Anyone gets tired during long matches, and their concentration slips. Do you really think 'I got tired so my broom handling got worse' is an excuse that'll fly?"
"..."
Wait, am I being completely argued into a corner right now?
The day when I, the most talented genius of my year, a perfect beauty who can hold her own even against upperclassmen, would be utterly defeated in an argument by a troll-like, muscle-bound senior… I never thought it would come.
"Everyone here?"
After checking the members once more, Flint-senpai lined us all up on the field and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Muscles?"
"They never betray us!!"
The upperclassmen roared in unison. Draco and I flinched instinctively, but judging by their reactions, this was everyday life for the seniors.
"Practice?"
"It never lies!!"
"Then train!"
"And it shall be granted!!"
"Slytherin is—"
"The strongest on the ground!!"
A deafening roar echoed across the pitch, as if they were trying to make it reach Hogwarts Castle itself. Faced with the sweaty, high-energy enthusiasm of the upperclassmen, Draco and I exchanged looks that clearly said, "We've come to a seriously dangerous place."
From there on, in every sense of the word, it was hell.
(End of chapter)
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