Allstar

[lyka cruz malkin]

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September 12, 2027

Hard rain pelted the front steps of the LIFE central building entrance, the cacophony of voices in the grand hall growing louder as more students poured out of the library and Flobberworm and Lettuce. Only minutes earlier, the sky had been tame. A muddy gray, sure, but controlled clouds that didn't look like they were ready to piss water over the entirety of the Hogwarts campus for the foreseeable future. For the second Sunday of the new fall term for the younger students, this weather absolutely wasn't optimal. The LIFE students had been on campus for the last several months, getting acquainted with the buildings and inner workings of the freshly restored Hogwarts, and now everyone else was trying to do that as well. The other problem that arose from this sudden squall was that it had caused a postponement in the single most important day of the entire school year: Quidditch tryouts. With part of the student body spread all over the world, there hadn't been any unity in the house teams. A lost year, if you will. For the unlucky ones that ended up at Ilvermorny, there was no Quidditch at all. Instead, it was the game-that-shall-not-be-named. A horrid, lesser alternative to a sport that had centuries of tradition, squandered for an American audience that didn't know any better. The rain decided Hogwarts needed to wait a little longer, apparently. That wasn't good enough for one student in particular. Lyka had waited her year. Now wasn't the time to bend the knee to some raindrops.

Except she was being told not to go outside by the Hufflepuff captain. Apparently - and these were the words coming from the captain who said that it ultimately came from the Heads of Houses (or whatever they were called nowadays) - tryouts could not commence until the weather was back to normal, that way all students could have an equal chance at making the house teams and no one would be injured due to environmental circumstances. A blood vessel nearly popped in the side of her head as she tried to calm herself upon hearing such hogwash. Quidditch was played in every and all conditions. The nastier the better. If she wasn't soaked to the bone, slipping into hypothermia, and had a fine line of mud under her fingernails, then what was the point of playing in the first place? She had done her waiting. Two whole years of it! First came sitting in the bench as a reserve player her fourth year, and then last year at Ilvermorny. She was done with 'waiting'. And maybe that was also part of the problem.

You see, the first two weeks of the MAGIC students being on campus had been tumultuous, to say the least. Everyone that wanted to play had been trying to get down to the pitch to shake the last year off. Lyka had done her own practice during the months where only LIFE students were around, and felt confident that this was finally her year. From her relentless practice regiment over the summer, she was pretty sure that she was the perfect jack of all trades sort of player now. While not physically intimidating, she could accurately whack bludgers with the sort of efficiency that she'd seen those that had played for years do, and her speed carrying the quaffle was decent as well. Defending the goal posts was sort of difficult, though the keeper position wasn't up for grabs because that was what the captain played. And seeker was...not for her. She didn't have the finesse or flying ability to frantically chase and almost invisible golden snitch for the entirety of the match. Her focus simply wasn't there. And besides, literally everyone wanted to be the seeker. If all the focus was on that, it meant everything else would free up and be easier to show off in. Almost all of the positions were open too. None of the former players from two years prior (of the few that were still in school) were guaranteed a spot, despite their tenure, and that made her even more confident in her skills. If she could make the team as a reserve during her fourth year, then she could be a starter in her sixth. Which was why MAGIC coming back to school made her nervous.

Nervous because it was clear that a lot of the younger students knew what to expect and had been training as well. From what she could gather from snippets of conversation, anyone that went to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang basically had the ability to train nonstop. While the flying ability of those that went to Ilvermorny seemed to be higher, the technical prowess of the other European schools was beyond exceptional. And then there she was, having done everything on her own for the past year and a half. Lyka knew she had a bad habit of freaking out and putting herself down before things even happened, but it was impossible not to already start thinking about how absolutely fucked she was going to be. That nervousness had been drip-fed into her over the last several weeks. Each time she went down to the pitch and saw more and more Hufflepuffs that she recognized zooming around and practicing, the louder the little doubting voice in the back of her head grew. False confidence was easy to generate off of the broom but when it became very real, Lyka could feel it starting to collapse in on herself. Thankfully it mostly focused on her playing ability and not anything else, though the morning of the tryouts had her picking over her breakfast like someone had spit in it in front of her. She knew that she would need the energy and that there wasn't going to be a second chance to eat again before it, though all of that came into question once the rain began.

Obviously she wasn't thrilled with the sudden change in everything. Lyka knew she could practice and tryout in the rain, as that was part of Quidditch, but she was starting to develop a complicated thought process about the whole thing. In her nervousness from breakfast, and how she really didn't eat much, her stomach now felt like an empty pit and everything from the knees down had started to wobble. With the hard schedule of the tryouts now completely destroyed by the rain, all of her different feelings were starting to bubble out at the same time. The excitement of flying and showing off what she'd practiced over the last two years tried its best to be the emotion that showed itself on her face, yet was being completely beaten into submission by the anxiety of potentially waiting longer to get this done. She wanted to know today if she was on the team or not. Next weekend wouldn't cut it, because she honestly didn't think she could handle another week of feeling like she was going to throw up at any given moment from gut-wrenching nerves and shoddy self-imposed flying drills. Unfortunately she wasn't above throwing a minor temper tantrum at her age, a bad habit that her mum had been telling her for years was going to hurt her more than help her get her way (because it never actually got her what she wanted, ever). At the same time, standing on the front entrance perch, she also felt like she was going to bawl.

Why did she always get the short stick when it came to Quidditch? All she wanted to do was play. Being a reserve player her fourth year was more of a pity placement, she knew that. Her annoying tendencies had gotten the captain at the time to finally relent, because that was easier that listening to her whine and having her hanging around the locker room every practice. It had taken her the past two years to realize this, and that was why she had been doing her best to not devolve back into the same mannerisms. But it was so damn hard. Having a year without an official Quidditch at Ilvermorny had made her feel like she was backed into a corner without a possibility of trying for the future that she really wanted for herself. There was no reason for her to be this stressed out over Quidditch, but here she was. If she failed to get a position on the team this year, very few scouts would even give her a second look should she manage it during her seventh. The odds simply weren't in her favor. And getting an offer for professional tryouts was basically unheard of these days too. There wasn't a Quidditch pedigree in the Malkin family, outside of repairing uniforms. To suddenly try and make a name for herself with zero backing or experience would be nigh impossible, and she had been worried about that since the transfer to America. With the new revelation that there were younger students in better position to snag the open spots, she was quickly turning into a mess.

Yelling from somewhere in the hall behind her snapped her out of the funk that her brain started to drag her into. The yucky feeling of self-loathing could wait until after tryouts, she reminded herself. If all else failed, begging to be the team manager and cleaning up after everyone would at least show initiative. Working for a Quidditch team after graduation was basically the second best thing to playing, right? A sad future for her of course but it got her into the league at the very least, albeit in a way that she didn't actually want. More shouts reached her ears and she felt the bodies of students that had crowded around start to shift as they moved in place to allow whomever was yelling through. Despite it being a frequent yelling, Lyka couldn't pinpoint what was actually being said, her focus so intense on the falling rain and horrid anxiety that her brain didn't put any of together. Feeling her Quidditch bag, which was slung over her shoulder, get pushed, Lyka tried her best to keep herself resolute with the sudden shove. The top steps were slick from the rain and she could instantly feel her boots slide on them when she was forced to move, though she did manage to keep herself upright and unwavering despite not seeing it coming.

Of course the perpetrator was one of the younger Hufflepuffs that she was worried about, and his gang of equally gargantuan gorilla-like goons. Despite what most perceived Hufflepuff students as, there were still odd ducks in it that had foul personalities. This crew was just as much non-Hufflepuff as she was at times though definitely fit the mold of other houses better than they did in this one. Not only were they all a solid half a foot taller than her, but they also had the advantage of all playing together at Durmstrang the previous year. If the captain found they were all a good fit, then they'd easily be selected to become the team. It was ironically convenient that the only position they didn't currently have was keeper as well, meaning no changes for the captain either. Hufflepuff had other great players that she knew of though, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for there to be a mix and match situation at the end of the day. Plus this group also consisted of fourth and fifth years, meaning they would still have a shot over the next couple of school years. Not that it actually mattered, as winning the Quidditch Cup was the end goal. A cohesive team that could work together was extremely important in that and these guys definitely had that going for them already. Lyka had watched them a few times from the stands, waiting for them to finish up their own practices the past few weeks, and she had seen the captain doing the same. So it wasn't a complete secret that they were the front runners right now.

Ultimately it did come down to how the tryouts went, and if even one of them had an off day she could use that to her advantage. Pressuring the captain to follow through in the midst of a storm was certainly the best way to do that too. The idea alone was going to be difficult to propose, but she knew the best way to have it happen was if enough players were already down at the pitch ready to go. With the large group moving past her and heading outside presumably to go down to the pitch, that meant at least more than half of the potentials would be there. And if she followed, then there would be no doubt that she was serious about this whole thing. Before she could finish her thoughts, a few more students with gear stepped passed her and followed the first ones. Lyka blinked at their backs dumbly as she stood in her spot on the stairs. Were they really all doing this? Rules and heads of houses be damned, apparently the Hufflepuffs wanted to put their team together in the middle of a thunderstorm. Tightening her grip on her bag and broom, she carefully stepped outside as well. The stairs were slippery, but nothing she couldn't handle at this point. Staying behind would be like giving up, and even though she get her insides knotting up in anticipation for whatever happened next, that was better than the alternative.

Rain pelted her instantly upon leaving the safety of the entrance hall. Being soaked to the bone was an inevitable fact at this point, and if it hadn't happened now it would have been while she was in the air. There would be one last chance to dry off again once she got to the pitch, taking full advantage of the locker rooms to make sure her goggles, gloves, and broom weren't dangerously slick. If anyone was going to be making a mistake while flying today, it wasn't going to be her. It was too bad that sticky charms were inadvisable while playing, because having the ability to hold on for dear life in gusts this strong would be such an amazing advantage. At the same time it made catching and throwing the quaffle impossible, so she'd take what she could get. She still didn't know what position she wanted to try out for, but in this weather it was going to end up being whatever made the most sense. Now seeker wasn't even out of the running. Should she see it first, she was going for it. Her smaller frame and positioning on the broom would make it so much easier for her to cut through the wind and rain than it would be for any of the goons. These were all hypotheticals though. Things to ease her mind as she quickly, and safely, made her way with the other Hufflepuffs down towards the pitch. After this, the Sorting Hat was going to need to be brought out again and test all of them to see if they were actually Gryffindors in disguise. Bravely defying the orders of the school and attempting to practice in this horrid weather was surely admirable. Normally none of her housemates were like this, unless they were a little wacky. So basically her and a few others.

Eventually the shadowy outline of the pitch came into view, morose and sodden. But then again, so was she. Lyka could feel the squish of water in her boots with every step, a makeshift puddle forming in their soles because she had forgotten to tighten them up before mindlessly running out into the rain. That and her mum had warned her that she needed to waterproof charm them once she got to school, which of course she didn't do yet. If she made the team, that would be her way of celebrating victory. After asking her sister for help with casting the charm. Lea would definitely know. Probably. Maybe. Merlin, she really needed to start paying attention in Charms class and at home, because she was positive one of her family members had shown her the way to do it before. That was magical sewing basics. First years could do it. Her Quidditch-sick brain made so many things impossible to pay attention to or retain. Up until now she had nothing to show for it either. Hopefully that was going to change pretty soon here. As long as her boots were emptied prior to hopping on her broom though. The first flip she did was going to be like taking an upside-down shower while under a waterfall in the middle of a monsoon. It didn't matter that she was already drenched. Having soggy socks and heavy, water-laden boots was not how she wanted to practice. Victory required warm and dry feet, if only for a minute or two.

As her approach to the Quidditch pitch grew closer, it was very clear to see that if they got in the air, it was literally going to be a fight to control their brooms. Once again, the professors were looking like they were right. The rain hadn't seemed nearly as bad within the protection of the school buildings, run-off from the roofs splattering and muffling the howling of the wind. Which was interesting because normally the pathways between the new buildings were constantly whistling at even the most gentle breeze. Now it felt more like a raging monsoon, with sheets of rain pelting the tarps that protected the exterior of the pitch. Lyka could only guess that the grass inside was flooded and ankle deep by this point, as it was on the outside for sure. If she thought her first few steps outside were bad, now every single one was like dipping her feet into a running river. The wind was really the problem they had to go up against though, so if it managed to chill out for even a fraction of a second, they could get a few practice drills in. At this point all she cared about was making her face known (which it already was because she annoyed the ever living crap out of the captain) and to prove that she wasn't afraid of a lot of water. Locating the door the the Hufflepuff locker room was certainly tricky as well, as she had lost sight of her potential teammates - or competitors, depending on how you looked at it - long ago. On a normal day it was fairly easy, but here she was slowly stumbling and soaked towards the frame of the pitch, hoping she was near the place she needed to be.

Nearly missing the door and ending up halfway around the pitch was entirely possible in this weather, as the only visible landmark was the pitch itself. With the siding bartered down and soaked, even the house colors that typically adorned it were muted and muddy - often times quite literally covered in mud from the rising water and back splash from the rain. Not being able to see her surroundings hindered so much, and simultaneously watching where she walked made it so much easier to just keep going in circles around the pitch. No one would be around to stop and correct her because nobody in their right mind was out here except for the players. Heck, she didn't even know if the captain was out here. There was a very real possibility he was sitting by the fireplace in the common room right about now, adhering to the order that the professors had given out and thinking none the wiser about his new team. If galavanting down to the pitch in this weather got her a spot, then she wasn't going to complain. They could be the worst team this year and it wouldn't even matter, because at least there was the potential to work for it. From her guess after seeing those that had headed down right before her, there would be at least ten of them here. A few too many than what the team needed.

At least she found the door while mentally musing about her prospects, the rain making her momentarily forget about her nervousness. Whipping it open, the warmth of the locker room leaked out. She knew she looked like a wet rat because she felt like one. Then again, so did everyone else that was already in the locker room. Some had their wands out and were blasting their faces with warm air charms (which was where all the heat was coming from), others emptying their shoes of water. In addition to those she had already known about, a few other familiar faces and former players were already sitting around and talking, including the captain. A couple of them glanced over at her as she entered, and Lyka immediately got the sinking feeling that she was maybe the last one to arrive. From her quick count, that made up almost fifteen Hufflepuffs trying out. That was a few short of what she had anticipated, but the notable absence of the youngest students she'd heard excitedly talking about it the week prior also wasn't a surprise. Neither of them owned a broom, nor could even fly one. Those were just additional tidbits of their conversation she had caught while eating lunch. They were bound to follow the rules for sure, but them rest of the house apparently not. Being the possible last one to arrive wasn't a great look, though she couldn't have been that far behind the other group.

Looking nervously around at her housemates, who were all in various states of wet (or not), Lyka mimicked a few of them and also started to pull her boots off to dry them out. The Black Lake practically spilled out, which she dumbly emptied right in front of her broom and with quite a few eyes on her as well. While it was already soaked down to the core, additional water wasn't going to help at this point. Her bag and robes were heavy too, but that was a fate she risked by coming down here. Had she faltered and stayed up at the school, she wouldn't be on the team. That was an indisputable fact right now. Blasting her boots and socks with a warm air charm, the heat wasn't immediately felt because her toes looked like they had entered early stages of frostbite - cold to the touch and shriveled from being soaked. Even though that wasn't possible from mere rainwater, it was definitely uncomfortable to deal with. Having some semblance of dryness while being pelted with giant raindrops was important for her tryout attempt. Everything else wet on her was basically a waste of time to try and dry, and watching the others before her get prepared, Lyka did the same. Luckily everything inside her bag was in decent shape, though her gloves had been on the top and were looking a tad damp. Another quick wave of her wand and they immediately entered the cozy warm stage where she wouldn't want to take them off until her hands conducted all of the heat from them. One of these days - and this was assuming she made the team and continued to play past this year - she was going to get a pair of dragon scale gloves lined with faux unicorn fur. The real deal was highly illegal these days, but they made pretty decent ones for the colder weather Quidditch matches. And the grip dragon scale gloves provided was second to none. Her only experience with them was sliding them on at Quality Quidditch Supplies and having the store owner tossing her a quaffle from down the aisle. They always fit like a dream but could instantly break her measly bank account apart. In other words, it was a Christmas gift she would start begging for the second she made the team.

Lyka was content with the state of her Quidditch gear after a minute or so of blow drying everything. Her boots still felt soggy, a bit of water seeping up from the soles and into the bottom of her socks. She could deal with that though. None of that would truly matter once they were in the air though, assuming try outs were still actually happening. If not, then they were just a bunch of downtrodden and wet Hufflepuffs. An average Sunday, really. With her equipment in hand and goggles clear, she waited patiently for someone to actually say something about what they were all doing here. So far the only conversation had come from the group of guys that were expecting to make it together, their deeper voices booming over even the rain outside. Snippets of their game plan were caught here and there, mostly about how if there was an inter-team scrimmage, they needed to make sure they were paired together. Which made sense because this was sort of an all or nothing sort of deal for them. Lyka desperately wanted to break up their gang now, and she had a feeling the couple of veteran players did as well just from the glares they were giving. This was their territory after all, and they only had to try out again out of fairness. Watching the two different groups of her housemates glare at one another was sort of funny, and the captain barely seemed interested in it. She figured he probably didn't want to show favoritism towards his former teammates, but considering their proximity, it wasn't hard to tell.

Standing up abruptly, the captain cleared his throat and started to give his spiel on what he expected today. Points were made that they technically weren't supposed to be down here, but he had been nudged by the head of house that everything would be covered if any of the other professors had an issue with it. Which got Lyka thinking...who even was Hufflepuff's head anymore? She had conveniently missed house meetings all year, opting to not waste her time listening to speeches on expectations and the sorts. A loud clearing of a throat brought her right back to the locker room though, she realized that the captain was staring directly at her. Embarrassed at being called out, Lyka meekly pulled her broom closer into herself to try and partially hide her face. She could feel a couple other pairs of eyes glancing down at her, but that went away once the captain started his sermon again. Paying attention was basically her only vice. And shutting up when she started to ramble about Quidditch. And not sleeping in. There were a lot of things she needed to work on, and focusing was one of them. Training all of her attention on the captain, she took in the rest of what he had to say easily. They were still going to have a series of tests to figure out who fit best and in which position. Most notably missing from the tryouts though: the scrimmage. The energy in the locker room changed immediately, and it was apparent that the group was furious about this. They managed to keep their mouths shut, which sort of amazed her, and the captain rounded out his speech by directing them back outside and onto the pitch.

The nervousness came back immediately, and Lyka wasn't sure if she was frozen in place because she was cold still or out of the sheer fear of failure. Thankfully she was the last one to leave the locker room, each of her housemates slowly taking their time to adjust their brooms and equipment to the whipping wind that was now howling outside. The thunderous roar of the rain slamming down onto the seats of the Quidditch pitch was terrifying, though mimicked the clapping and stamping of students in an eerie way. She didn't know how to explain it. A haunting round of applause cheered her on as she finally stepped out and back into the elements - it had the possibility of being her only crowd if she dealt bungled this. Mounting her broom and making sure she had a tight grip, she lifted off of the ground and was immediately blown sideways from a gust of wind. The combination of being lighter than a feather and not expecting to be taken this way surprised her, though she managed to get herself under control quickly. A globular light in the sky told her that she needed to fly up to it, which was where she found the rest of the team also struggling to stay in one place. At least she wasn't the only one.

All at once, the trials began. A series of sweeps around the stadium started it off, mostly to test speed and performance in rough weather, but also to probably see if anyone would crash and back out. It was a morbid method of reducing those trying out, though also a smart one. The less people left after each test meant getting closer to a full team and being done with this weather. Her tenacity kicked in big time once she realized this, and was more than happy when one of the younger students (not from the group) dropped out. In the girl's defense, she also had forgotten her goggles and was literally flying blind through the storm. An admirable effort that wouldn't make the cut. As things progressed, Lyka gained a new understanding of what it meant to be wet. If she thought her trek down to the pitch was bad, this was something else altogether. Her goggles alternated between fogging up and covered in water. Once one was taken care of, the other took over instantly. Certain tasks, like catching the quaffle, basically became more impossible than it already was in the storm, and all around everyone seemed to be failing at catching it. She started to get the impression that if anyone managed to do something remotely normal, their chances of making the team shot up drastically. Like when she successfully slapped the bludger three times in a row while defending a chaser racing across the pitch. No one else managed to do that, giving her a slightly warm feeling of success, if only for a moment. By the time everything was finished, it was sort of difficult to tell who had done what and to what degree of success. Gauging her own abilities based on the weather, Lyka felt good about herself but it really was impossible to know.

Rallying her energy to walk back up to her dorm was tough. The captain said he would get back to everyone by the next day with the final roster, and she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted to hear right now. Her spirits were high by the end of things but immediately plummeted again when she heard that, not to mention she was only going to be rained on more while walking back up the hill. The broom was heavy in her hands and dragging her feet only made the puddle in her boots turn into a tsunami every time she stepped. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? Defeated wasn't exactly the word for it, though it was definitely from near exhaustion and anxiety over the whole thing. Being a beater wouldn't be the worst thing in the world though, since it at least got her on the team. Whatever the decision was tomorrow, she had to accept it.

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