Dandelions

INTO THE WOODS

author's note:

hi everyone! odd upload time, i know, and even odder seeing an author's note! but i would like to inform you all of a somewhat noticeable change: the upload schedule! previously, i was uploading at a random time on fridays because i was working, but i have decided to begin uploading late thursday evenings instead now. hopefully this is good news?

anyways, enough rambling from me. please enjoy the chapter :)

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The air was crisp and it was just past noon, the breeze that whipped around the quidditch stands did a half-assed job of staying up in the air and blew around the bottom of the pitch with reckless abandon every so often. Rory stood right beside George, the grin on his face having been stuck there since the moment he'd opened his eyes that morning.

The turnout for the trials wasn't too groundbreaking, just under a dozen Gryffindors ambling around with nothing else to do until Oliver officially began the event. It was a little nerve wracking, to see so many upperclassmen participating. Rory, admittedly, was beginning to get a little nervous.

Oliver Wood stood across from the group of incoming participants with a firm look on his face, his broom held in his hand to his left.

Rory could barely hold himself back from fidgeting, and his fingers kept readjusting against the polished wood of his broom. The twins stood on either side of him--Lee neglecting to have come to try outs.

"You really aren't going out?" Fred had said glumly, the night after Lee had made his announcement.

"Nope," he replied confidently. "I can't be a commentator if I'm on a team, apparently there's a threshold for how biased I can be."

"And you somehow hadn't already passed it?" Rory snickered.

"Yeah," he laughed, "But McGonagall told me herself, if I join the team I can't comment until I'm off it."

"Well," George frowned, "But, you always talked about joining."

"I know, but I think I'll leave it up to beefy guys like you all instead. I'll just watch you beat each other up from the sidelines."

"You think we're beefy?" Fred cockily replied, raising his arms up to flex.

"Sure," Lee sourly said, "If that's what you got from that."

The reason he didn't come to tryouts at all was lost on Rory, something about serving detention--or getting detention for something? It didn't matter, it's not like he was focused enough to figure out the reason while standing on the pitch.

With only Oliver there as supervision, it was a little more than rowdy behind the front line. Rory could hear boys rough housing and girls complaining about the aforementioned rough housing, it was almost irritating when combined with the way the ill-fitting quidditch robes hung on his frame.

"Listen up," his voice was commanding, and his steely eyes surveyed the group as they quieted down. "We're going to start off with some flying trials, laps around the pitch. Mount up."

Rory heard the collective sound of Gryffindors taking to the air, the rushing sound of robes taking up wind.

"This is sorta surreal," George muttered, Rory barely being able to hear him over the wind--or maybe that was his blood rushing in his ears.

"Tell me about it," Rory nervously replied.

"Well, first of all, there's seventh years here-"

"I didn't mean for real."