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Heavy Is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 67: Quidditch Tryout
🕑 Added 2025-07-04 20:56:24 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
The Quaffle and all the other Quidditch balls were in full play, turning the pitch into a chaotic whirlwind of motion. The Gryffindor players zoomed through the sky with such intensity that it almost felt like a wild free-for-all rather than a structured training session.
Oliver Wood, steadfast and focused, stood guard before the three hoops as the Keeper, deflecting every shot that came his way with precision. Nearby, Fred and George Weasley—twin forces of mischief and mayhem—were acting as Beaters, swinging their clubs with practiced ease. They alternated between defending their teammates and launching the Bludgers with pinpoint accuracy, either to disrupt attackers or to test their friends’ reflexes.
Meanwhile, high above the chaos, Harry Potter weaved through the sky like a lightning bolt, eyes locked on a fast-moving glint of gold—the elusive Snitch. His broom dipped and curved with elegance, threading through the action below.
Down on the field, the four Chasers flew in a heated dance, ducking, diving, and twisting through the air. They narrowly avoided Bludgers and each other as they fought to control the Quaffle. Arthur, alongside two other Chasers, surged forward, their eyes fixed on Angela—a dark-skinned Gryffindor girl holding the Quaffle tightly in her grasp, her face set with determination.
The other two Gryffindor girls began flanking Angela from either side, putting pressure on her. Arthur, however, had a different plan. He angled his broom downward sharply, diving below the others. Then, with perfect timing, he shot back up just as Angela cocked her arm to throw.
As she release the Quaffle, Arthur intercepted it with an upward burst, catching the ball mid-air and leaving Angela stunned.
“Haha!” Arthur cackled triumphantly as he pulled away. As per their training rule, any player who intercepted the Quaffle had to complete a full lap around the field while the rest of the team tried to steal it back—only then could they attempt to score.
Still laughing, Arthur hugged the Quaffle close and darted forward, veering left and right in rapid succession. Suddenly, a Bludger shot toward him at breakneck speed. He spun in a tight corkscrew, narrowly avoiding it, then ducked instinctively as a second Bludger whizzed just above his head.
Fred and George were hot on his trail, their bats gleaming as they closed in, grinning wickedly. Arthur narrowed his eyes and smirked, holding the Quaffle tightly under one arm while gripping the broom with the other. He zigzagged through the sky, weaving through players and dodging both the twin’s attacks and the flurry of hands trying to knock the ball from him.
Finally reaching the scoring zone, Arthur flew head-on toward Oliver, grunted, and launched the Quaffle as hard as he could toward the left hoop. Oliver reacted instantly, cutting through the air and catching the ball mid-flight.
“Ugh!” Oliver grunted from the force of the throw, the impact pushing him back a few feet and briefly knocking the wind out of him.
Arthur clicked his tongue in frustration while Oliver, secretly impressed, stared at the ball in his hands. He flexed his fingers as he tossed it over to Katie Bell.
‘What a throw...’ he thought, his gaze narrowing. ‘The power behind it is incredible.’
As the chase for the Quaffle resumed, Arthur still found himself dodging Bludgers, even though he no longer had the ball. He shot a glare toward the twins with a teasing grin and shouted, “Oi mate! I don’t even have it anymore!”
“We know!” Fred and George called back in unison, their flaming red hair whipping behind them in the wind.
Arthur let out an amused scoff. “Fine! Keep ’em coming then!”
After several back-and-forth exchanges, near misses, and failed goal attempts, Arthur once again had the Quaffle under his arm. He tightened his grip and flew forward with renewed focus. But just as he lined up for a shot, a Bludger seemed to materialize out of nowhere and slammed into his hand.
“Gah!” he hissed in pain as the force jarred the ball loose. It was quickly scooped up by another Gryffindor girl who dashed off with it.
Shaking his hand, Arthur turned to see where the shot had come from—only to spot George Weasley cackling with glee as he winked in Arthur’s direction. Arthur narrowed his eyes and pointed two fingers from his eyes to George in a classic ‘I’m watching you’ gesture.
George only responded with a smug grin and a scoff before soaring away.
The game pressed on. After a few more heated exchanges, Arthur once again found the Quaffle back in his possession. He clutched it firmly under one arm, the other gripping the broom’s shaft tightly as he accelerated toward the hoops. His golden-blond hair was slicked back by the wind, and his forehead gleamed with sweat under the sun.
He focused on the hoops, preparing his shot—but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Fred and George converging on him from both sides like twin missiles, their bodies angled to collide.
With no time to hesitate, Arthur made a split-second decision.
He leapt—straight off his broom.
Gasps echoed from the team as Arthur flipped gracefully through the air. Fred and George slammed into each other mid-charge, the force of their collision stunning them and sending them spinning wildly out of control.
As they tumbled through the air, Arthur dove, his hand outstretched. With one arm tightly holding the Quaffle, he reached for his broomstick, plummeting toward it at high speed with fierce determination.
A collective gasp echoed through the field as Arthur's hand clamped around the broom handle mid-air. With impressive strength and precision, he pulled the broom toward himself, planted both feet firmly on the handle, and hoisted his body upright into a crouch. The broom wobbled briefly under the sudden weight shift, but Arthur steadied it, his posture confident and balanced as he pulled himself up flying still at high speed while simultaneously throwing the ball.
Oliver was so stunned by the aerial acrobatics that he froze for a critical second—and it cost him. The Quaffle whistled past his face and sailed cleanly through the center of the golden hoop behind him.
The field fell into stunned silence.
Arthur straightened to a full standing position atop his broom, wind tossing his golden hair as he looked down at the others with calm authority. He stood tall above Fred and George, hands casually resting in his pockets, his blue eyes cool and unreadable.
“Know your place,” Arthur said, his voice cold and deliberate, cutting through the air like a blade.
Fred and George blinked, momentarily frozen. A strange chill ran down their spines—not from fear, but from sheer adrenaline and awe. Arthur’s piercing gaze made them feel, for a fleeting moment, like they were being stared down by a seasoned professional, not a first-year student.
Then, wide grins slowly spread across their faces.
“Don’t let it go to your head now, Arty~,” George teased, voice light but amused.
“Yeah, it was just one goal—an incredible bloody goal, sure—but still, just one,” Fred added with a chuckle.
Arthur smirked, his demeanor shifting from cool to cocky as he leaned forward and dropped back into a seated position on his broom. “Then allow me to change that~”
With a sudden burst of speed, he rocketed forward, chasing the Quaffle once more with renewed vigor. Fred and George exchanged a glance, their grins widening.
“Oh, it’s on,” Fred said.
“Definitely on,” George nodded.
Without another word, they followed close behind, eager to test Arthur further.
Arthur quickly found himself back in possession of the Quaffle. As he darted toward the hoops once again, his eyes flicked toward the left goalpost, baiting Oliver into a feint. The Keeper moved quickly to intercept—only for the ball to zip straight through the middle hoop instead.
“Gotcha,” Arthur muttered to himself.
The match became a flurry of movement and energy. Arthur twisted and spun between chasers, Bludgers, and broomsticks, bobbing and weaving through the air with uncanny reflexes. He scored several more goals, intercepted passes mid-air, and narrowly dodged more than one dangerously aimed Bludger from Fred and George—who were clearly enjoying themselves too much.
But Arthur wasn’t invincible. The others managed to steal the Quaffle from him a few times, and the twins succeeded in landing a couple of well-placed Bludgers, earning laughs and playful curses from Arthur. Still, his skill was undeniable, and the others could feel it. He wasn’t just keeping up—he was shining.
Eventually, the trial came to an end when Harry, still streaking across the sky above them, let out a triumphant shout.
“I got it!” he yelled, holding up the shimmering Snitch between his fingers.
The players slowed and began gliding toward the ground, still buzzing with energy and excitement.
“You know,” Oliver said, panting slightly, “for a couple of first-years who’ve never played a proper game of Quidditch, you were are naturals.”
He turned to face them both more directly.
“And I’m not just talking about Arthur either. Harry, you were brilliant out there. The fact that this practice ended so quickly is proof enough. Great work—seriously. Both of you.”
Harry beamed, his heart racing from excitement and the wind. He had fallen in love with every moment in the sky—the rush, the control, the freedom.
Oliver turned to the rest of the team and raised his voice, “What do you all think? Harry’s spot as Seeker is practically guaranteed. But what about Arthur? Should he be on the team?”
Angela scoffed as if the question insulted her intelligence. “Are you serious? With the way he moves and plays, it’d be a crime not to let him in.”
Fred threw an arm around Arthur’s shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “Oliver, there’s no point in even asking. We want to keep playing with this little slugger.”
Arthur rolled his eyes as George came up behind him and ruffled his hair. “Yeah, come on, Captain. Like we’d let you take away our new toy.”
“New toy, my tushy!” Arthur barked, swatting George’s hand away and fixing his hair with exaggerated flair. “If I recall correctly, I’m the one who made you two my playthings.”
The team burst into laughter at the playful back-and-forth. There were chuckles, whistles, and even a few friendly shoves exchanged.
Oliver clapped his hands, regaining everyone’s attention. “Alright! Since we’ve all clearly reached a unanimous decision…” he turned toward the two boys, his voice proud and official. “Arthur, Harry—as captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, I formally welcome you aboard!”
Harry and Arthur exchanged excited glances and wide grins.
“Thank you for having us,” Arthur said charmingly, standing tall with a hand over his heart.
Fred and George smirked beside him, clearly already plotting their next mischief.
