Did you know Bludgers are apparently ten inches in diameter? That's the size of a basketball. And they're made of iron. No wonder poor Harry got his skull cracked in his sixth year

* ° * ° *

"Is that Getaway?"

"She has a Nimbus 2001!"

"Bloody hell, she never seemed rich to me before!"

Drew ignored all the annoying whispers and stood with her fellow Slytherins at the tryouts.

Cyndee and Wilby sat on the bleachers, and they waved at her encouragingly.

She ignored them too, and focused instead on Marcus Flint giving instructions.

They split into groups, depending on which position they were trying out for.

Drew had long since accepted that she couldn't be Seeker, as the disgusting Malfoy had already taken the position without needing a tryout. In fact, he wasn't even here.

The other Beaters eyed her up, no doubt taking in the fact that they were for the most part burlier than her. She suspected that they didn't realize that being a Beater wasn't just about hitting things, it was also about being able to balance.

Graham Montague was being especially snotty to her, and he called random insults to her from where he stood with the other Chasers. Perhaps he'd heard about what she'd said to his older sister. "Going to be Beater, Getaway? You don't look fit for the part. I hope you fall on your face."

"I hope you get locked in a cabinet and die," she shot back.

"I hope you get hit in the face with a Bludger."

Drew just taunted, "Did you know that there's an old play about a boy named Montague, who poisoned himself? Yeah, he was whiny as hell too, and it wasn't much of a tragedy to me. His wife stabbed herself to death and their families got along just fine after that."

He looked taken aback, his mouth falling open. "What...really?"

"Look up Romeo and Juliet the day you finally want to educate yourself, dimwad."

When it was Drew's turn, she rose into the sky with the bat in one hand, silently thanking Cyndee for the swift broomstick she'd gotten her.

Flint, also in the air, threw a Bludger at her, and she took both hands off her broom and swung the bat. The black ball connected with a crack, and it was sent hurtling back at the captain, who caught it.

She was really glad that she'd done sports in school.

Flint weighed the ball in his hands, as if it were his options. He threw it again, this time not directly at her. She dived and pulled up, hitting the bat at the same time, this time with one hand. It was a little harder, but still, it flew back at him.

The captain seized it again, and he looked uneasily down at the other Slytherin players, who were watching expectantly.

"Throw me the other one," he yelled down, and Montague chucked the Bludger up.

"Captain," Montague shouted, "I don't know what you want to do, but —"

Flint glared at him, "Shut up."

Drew's mouth twitched, but she forced herself to stay calm. It was heavily against school rules to purposely hurt another student, and there were witnesses all over the Pitch.

Plus Xavier and Quentin were lounging on the bleachers, staring at the clouds. The presence of two prefects who were actually responsible had to give Marcus enough reason to not be stupid.

Flint threw both Bludgers at the same time — which she had to admit to herself was impressive, using both hands to throw two things wasn't easy. She had to dodge the first one and fly to the second one, as it was farther from her and about to drop. She hit that one back, then dived for the second one, smacking it hard and sending it sailing over Flint's head before he caught it.

"Impressive," he snarled, ugly teeth bared. He raised a hand, aiming again. "Hit this one as far as you can."

The Bludger flew at her fast, and she hit it appropriately. It sailed across the Quidditch Pitch, nearly going through the middle goal hoop. The second Bludger came at her unexpectedly, and it was the sound of it whooshing towards her that saved her from a possible concussion. It just grazed the back of her head, and she heard a shriek and an outraged "hey!" from the bleachers.

"Just testing her reflexes," Flint shouted down to Xavier, who had his arms crossed. Cyndee looked horrified, and Wilby even had a hand on his wand.

"My reflexes are great, thank you very much," Drew growled, rubbing her head.

"We'll see," Flint said dismissively. "Next!"

Goyle came bumbling up to the sky. He nearly slipped off, to Drew's amusement.

As she started going down, her ears picked up a sudden silence and Wilby's gasp. She dodged to the side, but the heavy body still came crashing into her, and she was flipped off her broom, hanging on by her right knee. "MARCUS FLINT!" she screamed angrily, face turning red.

"Oops! Lost control of my broom." The captain sneered at her, "Shame you didn't fall, though."

She slowly bent her body upwards to get back up, knowing that her leg was going to slip right off if she wasn't careful.

"Need some help?" Flint asked evilly.

"D-Drew!" Cyndee shouted anxiously.

"Absolutely not, you troll-mouthed ogre." Drew managed to hook her foot on the stirrup. She yanked herself up and grabbed onto the broomstick with her left hand. "How bad was your mama's cooking to make your teeth look like a rotten banana?"

"Diffindo!"

Drew gasped as the spell from below severed the end of her broom, and then she was really falling.

Before she could take out her wand, Wilby was shouting, "Molliare!"

She dropped slowly through an invisibly cushiony mass and landed painlessly on the grass. Immediately she jumped to her feet, storming to the group of both snickering and worried Slytherins. "Who in the name of bloody Merlin did that Severing Charm! ANSWER ME!"

Wilby looked murderous as well, lips pressed together and eyes blazing. Drew decided at that moment that it was an expression she never wanted to see on his face again.

"Hand your wands over," Quentin ordered the other Slytherins. "All of you."

Drew had never seen the older prefect be assertive before, and Xavier looked amazed as well. One of the Chasers instantly gave up his wand, but the others were less cooperative.

Marcus touched down, "Prefects, what the hell? We're having a tryout!"

"And someone tried to kill a second year," Xavier snapped back. "Now all of you better give me and Quent your wands right now or I'll take a hundred points off Slytherin!"

"You wouldn't!" Montague cried. "Xavier, it was just one of us —"

"It'll put us all in dead last," Quentin agreed angrily. "So fork them over."

Reluctantly, the rest of the Slytherins gave their wands to them. Marcus huffed in annoyance, muttering something about prefects abusing their power.

"Prior Incantato," Quentin said. Ghostly apparitions appeared over all the wands, revealing the last spell that had been cast.

A rough brown wand had a broken broom floating above it.

"Whose wand is that?" Drew demanded, eyes blazing. "I'm going to bloody eviscerate you!"

"Uh, mine..." Crabbe admitted, raising his hand dumbly. "Malfoy told me to...to not let you join the team."

"Detention for a week," Xavier snarled. "And fifty points from Slytherin. And shut up, brats. Last year Malfoy lost fifty just for sneaking out at night."

Wails of outrage fell on unheard ears, and Drew launched herself at Crabbe and swung her bat at him, trying to make it hurt.

Cyndee was pleading with her to stop, and Wilby physically grabbed her by the arm, gently pulling her back. "He's not gonna be able to show his face for months," he assured her. "He's done. He's done."

Drew breathed heavily until she'd calmed down enough to think straight. "I'm sorry about the broom," she told Cyndee, knowing how much begging it'd taken to get her parents to buy it. "Really sorry."

"I-It's fine," she sniffled.

"Maybe we can fix it," Wilby said half-heartedly, giving her an optimistic smile. Drew still couldn't shake the face he'd worn earlier. The vicious scowl that finally convinced her that he belonged in Slytherin.

"You can't just 'fix' a Nimbus 2001," Drew said crossly, looking away.

The captain snorted. "Well, that's too bad. Crabbe, I guess you can't try out. We don't want a possible murderer on my noble team."

Xavier glared at him. "Don't give me that phony justice, Flint. You wanted it to happen."

Flint shoved him, grinning with his rotten teeth. "Prove it."

"Watch your mouth," the prefect shot back. "One word to the Head of House and I can keep you from graduating."

His only answer was an obnoxious laugh. "Let's get back to practice, boys."

Quentin pulled the injured Crabbe to his feet and led him back to the castle. Xavier turned to the fuming Drew. "Was it really necessary to hit him like that?"

She scowled. "He tried to kill me."

"You're a witch, Drew. A fall like that couldn't kill you."

"I didn't know that. You better give Crabbe a harsher lecture than this."

"Oh, I will." Then his eyes softened. "Look, you did a decent job out there, but Flint would never have picked you anyway. We all know how good you are; it's his loss completely."

Wilby nodded his agreement. "I think he got hit with too many Bludgers."

"Yeah okay," Drew snarked. She crunched the remains of her broomstick under her feet and tossed the bat behind her, not caring where it landed. "I'm going to go inside and throw Malfoy off some stairs."

"We'll come with," Wilby said cheerfully.

* ° * ° *

The next day, when Malfoy would wake up with crickets all over his dormitory, it'd be entirely his fault.

And when he'd realized that there was one in his mouth, and that his lips were tightly glued together with a Sticking Charm, well, that'd be his fault too.