With the Quidditch Cup game behind them, the school year was over.  At least, as far as Mairead was concerned.  All that homework and end of the year exam stuff was just a formality that had to be endured for the sake of playing quidditch.  Her second year on the team had drawn to a close and it was time for the team to turn their attention to next year.  For her current companion, this was probably just a simple pre-exam study break. 

At the end of this year, the team was losing some key players including Raine, their current captain.  Mairead wanted to succeed her more than she could remember wanting anything.  She knew it was near impossible; neither her academic nor disciplinary records were very impressive.  She would also only be a fourth year but she knew there had been fourth year captains in the past.  She had taken the time to research that! 

Maybe ... maybe if she scraped by a few decent exam grades and showed initiative in rebuilding the team for next year, they would consider her.  She could talk to their Head of House about it. 

Deliberately talk to a Professor.  Could there be more substantial proof that she was serious?

"Do ye have a position in mind or are ye open to suggestions?"  Mairead dragged the quivering box of balls out onto the pitch just outside the Gryffindor locker room.  She rested a food on top of the crate and rested her broom across her shoulders.  Her most prized (and costly) possession.  She'd sold two of  her stallion's foals at Ballinasloe to a rich American businessman to pay for it.   "How do ye take to flying?"

'Overcast' was, in Cara's humble opinion, the best flying weather—no harsh sun to get in your eyes, and a sight better than the showers they were expected to endure on Sunday. She took to the pitch alongside Mai, wearing black joggers and a burgundy sweatshirt, for the day was thus far rather chilly—and spending time astride a broomstick, wind beating at your flesh as you zoomed about, was a very simple way to ensure the shivers!

She'd asked her younger housemate very pointedly for some Quidditch lessons, expressing in no uncertain terms that she hoped to play for the house team next year—but also voicing concerns that her lack of practical experience would hold her back in tryouts. In truth, she'd wanted to try out this year, but fear of her overloaded schedule in the runup to her O.W.L.s had kiboshed that idea.

"I'm open to suggestions," Cara replied, smiling.

"Definitely leaning towards Chaser, though: I obviously lack the physique of a Beater—though I reckon I could give m'self one, but it's more trouble than it's worth—and Keeper seems too... static, yanno? I've got good reflexes and I'm fairly dextrous, but you're the pro here, love."

"I'm a fair flyer, too—haven't spent as much time on a broom as some folk 'round here, but it hasn't held me back so far."

Cara hoisted her broomstick somewhat proudly. It was a newer model, but not horribly ostentatious. Her parents were well-off, but not made of money, and they hadn't felt it entirely sensible to invest in a professional-grade broom for a witch that had never even played Quidditch on a seriously competitive level. Disheartened as she was to not possess a top of the line, all stops broom, Cara couldn't help but agree with her parents.

Mairead pursed her lips in thought as she glanced over the upperclasswoman's physique.  No, she didn't have the classic Beater build but that didn't immediately take her out of the running, especially if Cara hadn't been training for the position.  She didn't look like a Beater, now, but if that position was the right fit for the fifth year, her shoulders could start filling the role with work.  Mairead, after all, had played Beater as a first year when she'd sneaked onto the Hufflepuff team in the very first game she'd ever played.   

Either way, morphing into the look definitely didn't seem like the right approach.  "Don't that take effort and concentration?"  Mairead asked.  She didn't know much about being a metamorphmagus but she wasn't sure Cara just randomly flickered in and out of appearances.  "Chasin' bludgers requires full concentration.  Ye don't want to have to multi-task during a game."  Wouldn't it be a bit embarrassing to get clobbered by the bludger you were chasing just because you were concentrating on the shape of your shoulders? 

From her small, slight build to her penchant for taking foolish, dangerous risks, Mairead's natural position was Seeker.  But the key to being a well-rounded player was understanding the basics of the other positions so she wasn't completely out of her element filling in for any of the other roles. 

"Alright.  Well, let's see how the flyin' goes with a little bludger evading."  Mairead flipped open the chest, pulled out one of the beaters bats and tucked it under her arm.  "Just in case.  I'll release one o' the bludgers and just try t'avoid it.  If it starts to tail ye, try to evade it.  If it's too much like a greyhound on a fox, I'll whack it away."  If they seemed bored with that, they could work up to two bludgers. 

With bludger in one hand, Mairead let her broom hover in the air next to her as she started to unbuckle the strap on one of the bludgers.  "Whenever yer ready, take off." 

"Aye, it does," Cara confirmed, smiling sheepishly.

"It's... er—well, it depends on what I'm modifying. Could leave my hair bright pink for a year without thinkin' about it... but major changes, like packin' on muscle, or gettin' bigger or smaller, can take a lot outta me right quick."

Cara shrugged.

"Bit of a learnin' experience, to tell you the truth—and there isn't exactly a wealth of information about it out there, either! I can show you some time, if you'd like, but I suppose we'd best get to flying, 'eh?"

As Mai opened up the box and discussed the game plan, Cara mounted her broomstick and stood at the ready, eager to show off her airborne talent—and to be sized up by Mai. Cara enjoyed discovering where she stood, that she might better herself in the future.

"Gotcha," she replied to Mai's final instructions, and off she went, kicking hard and soaring into the sky with grace. Ascending, she cut forward sharply and then looped back around so that she was roughly above Mai as she released the bludger, eyes peering down below to keep a bead on its progress towards her.

Whoa! Cara careened hard to the right, narrowly avoiding the angry bludger as it soared straight up at her undercarriage. The thing was faster than Cara had expected, inexperienced as she was, and she scrambled to buzz forward as it turned tail to pursue her.

With a series of quick loops—as well as ascending to a considerably higher position—Cara managed to shake her pursuer without any more close calls. Having lost sight—sight?—of Cara, the bludger veered towards Mai, who had by this point presumably found her way into the air (or perhaps not), hoping to hit somebody.

Well, unless pink hair had the ability to knock a bludger around better than black hair, that strategy was out the window.  It did make for a strange image: bludgers being tossed around by strands of bright, pink hair. 

"That seems weird."  Mairead admitted.  "Though might be useful.  I woudda gotten away with a lot more growin' up if could do that."  The potentials were rather impressive.  "Be a lot easier to get away with pinchin' the stray candy bar.  Or, ye could play some mean tricks on boys." 

Mairead nodded, expressing an interest in seeing more of this shapeshifting at a later time. 

Right now, though, they had an eager bludger on their hands.  Once the bludger had taken flight, Mairead set the little fluttering snitch free before hopping on her broom.  Though not the primary objective, there was no reason for her not to do a little practicing.  She angled her broom up and, with a rush of excitement, took to the air. 

It was clear right away, Cara was rather comfortable on a broom.  Mairead watched as the older Gryffindor banked to the side and managed to avoid the blood thirsty bludger.  Her turns were a bit abrupt and lacked the fluidity of a seasoned player but the underlying motion was there. 

As focused as she was on Cara's flying, Mairead almost didn't see the oncoming bludger before it was too late.  Mairead flipped upside down, dangling like she was on a high wire, just in time for the bludger to whiz past where she'd been sitting a moment before.  Once it had cleared her, Mairead dipped her broom down towards the ground and looped back around until she was right side up, just in time to meet the bludger with the bat. 

"Nice!"  Mairead sped across the field to catch up with Cara.  "Now, head towards the far middle goal post.  But, steer clear of the bludger.  I may or may not be sendin' it yer way."  She smirked and angled her broom to intersect the bludger. 

"Sorry!" Cara called out as Mai came close, concern evident on her face.

"Should've given you a heads up, love—I reckon I'd be in hot water if I let a bludger break your arm while we're practicin'."

She felt a bit foolish—but, as Mai seemed no worse off for her brief encounter with the bludger, Cara's embarassment waned quickly enough, and she offered the younger girl an earnest grin.

"Can do," Cara replied as Mai instructed her, spinning around and zooming towards the center goal post on the other side of the field. She wasn't used to keeping her head on a swivel while flying—and, for the most part, she had a tendency to keep her eyes forward.

Recognizing the danger in this lapse of tact, though, Cara made quick and frequent checks on her sides, rear, and above and below her as she made her way across the pitch, hoping not to be caught unawares by the bludger.

There it was! Halfway to her destination, Cara spied the bludger pelting up the pitch with a righteous fury. Sent by Mai or not, Cara yelped as the speeding red sphere hurtled towards her—though, fortunately, the wind obscured her frightened noise, saving her some measure of embarrassment.

As the bludger rounded on her six, Cara yanked her broom handle straight up—and then up and up some more, executing a somewhat sloppy loop. She clung to the broomstick for dear life as she was upended, thoroughly pleased to be right side up after a few moments.

Lack of grace notwithstanding, the feint had worked, and the bludger soared in an upwards curve, seeking to trail her trajectory... and seeming thoroughly confused as it lost track of her.

Cara hurried towards the goalpost, anxious as she took a glance over her shoulder and realized that the ploy hadn't worked for long—the bludger was in hot pursuit once more, further back now, but determined to ring her bell all the same.

She braked as best she could as she neared the center hoop, losing some speed. The bludger was nearer, now, but Cara performed a rather daring and somewhat impressive evasive maneuver—one that might, in fact, be illegal? She was unsure—purely on reflexive instinct, with no actual forethought applied.

She soared straight through the center of the hoop and stretched out her arm, catching the hoop's interior side and allowing it to spin her 180° around the hoop. The bludger, far too focused on running down its prey, collided headlong—head?—with the goalpost, bouncing off and plummeting downwards with a very satisfying and resounding gong!

"They heal ease enough," Mairead dismissed Cara's concern with a shake of her head.  The third year was no stranger to bumps, bruises or even broken bones; she had too much of a penchant for trouble to avoid the unpleasant consequences.  Now, with the advantages of magic, it was even easier to ignore the need for self-preservation since one didn't usually need to worry about being stuck in a cast for weeks on end. 

She watched as Cara impressively negotiated her way around the pitch, eluding the bludger skillfully on several separate occasions.  She certainly showed a knack for creative evasion techniques.  No doubt, there was something to build off of - whether for chaser or beater. 

After Cara had eluded the bludger the first time, the red ball had taken Mairead as its new target.  Mairead flattened herself against her broom and started towards Cara's end of the field, intent upon intersecting the bludger.  As it drew near, Mairead reached out with the bat and pelted it back towards the older Gryffindor.  Cara succeeded in eluding the bludger again, using a clever maneuver that sent the bludger hurtling to the ground.  Mairead tilted her broom's nose down into a dive, tugging her wand free as she neared the down to immobilize the bludger before it implanted itself in the turf.  She swooped next to the bludger and grasped it with both hands before climbing back up to Cara's altitude. 

"No' bad," She admitted.  "'Course, if there'd been a keeper, they'd've intercepted ye, but I like yer style."  As she balanced the bludger between the broom and her hand, she could feel the ball vibrating in its eagerness to seek revenge. 

"How much have ye practiced with the quaffle?  Should we give that a go?"

The comment about broken bones gave Cara pause—Mai wasn't wrong. Cara hadn't earned any particularly nasty injuries in her five years at Hogwarts (and spent most of her holidays in the muggle world), and sometimes forgot that injuries that could be debilitating or fatal for non-magical people were often trivial to wizards and witches.

Cara hovered towards Mai, meeting her—and to some praise, too! Cara's cheeks flushed lightly, complementing her generally windswept appearance. She was quietly thrilled that she had braided her long raven locks before taking to the pitch, suspecting that they'd be very difficult to manage otherwise.

"Ta," she replied gratefully, smiling.

Mai was right about the difference between a keeperless goal, but Cara was quite proud of the maneuver nonetheless. It was rather thrilling to evade injury solely by the split-second decisions that you made in the moment.

"Quaffle? Em—not a lot," Cara answered sheepishly.

"I do OK with one in, yanno, pickup games and whatnot. We can try it out, though—sure!"

She zoomed off towards the trunk on the side of the pitch.

“A’right.  Quaffle.”
 
That was, of course, a very important part of being a chaser.  Staying on the broom was vital, but it was only half of the picture.  Mairead darted down to the ground and, with only a minor struggle, managed to wrestle the unhappy bludger back into the crate and take out the quaffle.  A moment later, she was facing Cara with the quaffle in hand.
 
Without warning, she pitched the quaffle in Cara’s direction.  The ball went in the direction Mairead intended, but it wasn’t completely on target.  She wanted to see how well Cara could maneuver to intercept the flying sphere.
 
“An’ toss it straight back,” Mairead called as the quaffle neared its goal.

Cara returned to the air with Mai, eager to get started with the scoring ball. She pulled herself up opposite her somewhat tinier practice partner, hovering on her broomstick.

Mai's very sudden tossing of the quaffle briefly surprised Cara—but she responded admirably, zooming towards it and managing to put one hand on the ball. She fumbled, briefly, sure that she was going to drop it—but, at the last second, managed to put her second hand out and catch it.

Once she'd regained her bearings, Cara ascended back towards Mai and slung the ball underhand back towards her.

"That wasn't the best catch, huh?" she called.

Mairead could handle the quaffle well enough for the sake of practice, but chasing was definitely not her strong suit.  The young Gryffindor was tough and strong, but a childhood of meager meals meant she was pint-sized, even for a third year.  Her small hands could make quick work of the snitch and could even grasp and yield a beater's bat with considerable power and speed but she always felt size was on the quaffle's side when dealing with that particular ball. 

But, as always, she made due.  Mairead manoeuvred herself to intercept the quaffle's return flight and trap the ball between both hands.  "Catch wasn't too bad," Mairead called back.  "It was the delayed reaction.  In a game, y're gonna have three balls to worry about.  And, only one o' them plays fair." 

"Maybe we do a bit of practice with the quaffle, then take a break before tryin' with all three?  Keep chuckin' it back to me, trying to land it right between me hands."  Mairead began weaving back and forth between the two edges of the pitching, chucking the quaffle towards the fifth year.  She tossed them in quick succession, continually changing the height, speed and angle of the ball's trajectory.  She also continually changed her own position as Cara caught the quaffle, forcing the other girl to alter the balls path before sending it back. 

When Mairead started to feel her own arms grow heavy from the practice, she assumed Cara's were as well.  She called a break and sped back to the ground, returning the ball to the crate before flopping on the grass for a rest.  "Not bad.  I think ye could make a decent chaser," Mairead commented.  What with losin' a couple at the end o' this year, that'd be good."

"Catch wasn't too bad. It was the delayed reaction. In a game, y're gonna have three balls to worry about. And, only one o' them plays fair."

"Sounds exciting," Cara called back, a hint of anxiety clear in her voice—of course, her resolved hadn't wavered any, but... well, what kind of a fool would she be if the notion of managing to score while two angry, violent balls took turns trying to pummel her off of her broomstick didn't worry her just a tad?

"Maybe we do a bit of practice with the quaffle, then take a break before tryin' with all three?  Keep chuckin' it back to me, trying to land it right between me hands."

"Got it!"

During their ball handling practice, Cara performed admirably—particularly for a girl with very little first-hand quidditch experience. She caught the majority of the passes that Mai directed at her, fumbling with very few, and dropping only one—which she managed to intercept just before it had hit the turf.

Just as a light sheen of sweat had started to coat her forehead, and her arms and shoulders had begun to ache, Mai suggested that they take a break. Cara followed her, dismounting her broom and taking a seat next to Mai, only slightly winded.

"Not bad.  I think ye could make a decent chaser. What with losin' a couple at the end o' this year, that'd be good."

"Glad to hear it," Cara replied brightly, clearly enthused with Mai's initial judgment.

"I reckon practice and games'll wreak havoc with my N.E.W.T. classes next year, but... 'eh—who said school was fun, right?"

Mairead grew quiet for a moment and stared at the ground.  She knew they were unlikely to give her a chance at the captain position, what with all the sub-optimal scores and the impressive number of detentions.  Her mum would probably take this opportunity to spin some moral tale about planning for the future. 

"I reckon practice and games'll wreak havoc with my N.E.W.T. classes next year, but... 'eh—who said school was fun, right?"

The younger Gryffindor wrinkled her nose.  "Don't remind me."  Why did Cara have to go and bring up school in the midst of quidditch?  What a way to spoil a perfectly decent afternoon. 

"I donno if I'll be stayin' for NEWTs," Mairead admitted.  "Suppose it depends on if I pass any OWLs.  Not that I'd care one way or the other."  It was a common point of view for the younger Gryffindor.  Whether she believed those words or was trying to convince herself, she wasn't sure.

"Don't remind me."

"Sorry," Cara replied sympathetically.

"I donno if I'll be stayin' for NEWTs. Suppose it depends on if I pass any OWLs. Not that I'd care one way or the other."

Though Cara was privately aghast at the notion of leaving Hogwarts after her fifth year, she suspected that Mai might not want to be scrutinized by the older girl.

"Reckon that's your choice," she replied, as it was. "Though I expect you'd miss the hell out of quidditch, huh?"

Cara turned to examine a particularly interesting piece of grass, unsure of whether or not Mai had any interest in keeping up the discussion about school—it was, apparently, a subject for which she had very little love. In contrast, Cara was rather fond of academia; she had thoroughly enjoyed her schooling thus far, even if it had been a bit of an adventure in extreme anxiety at times. Her N.E.W.T. courses looked to be few, as she had no hopes of achieving an O or E in Potions or Herbology, but the N.E.W.Ts she was taking would likely be rather difficult.

Mairead grew still, scowling broodingly at two blades of grass rippling slightly in the spring breeze.  Cara was wrong.  Mairead was stubbornly persistent in seeing her lack luster academic performance as the result of some outer influence.
                                   
“If I fail all me OWLs and they kick me out, it’s not exactly my choice, is it?”  She countered, a touch of defensiveness in her tone.  “If they’d let me just play quidditch, I could stay.  But, they seem t’think ye have to be good at school to be able to play.  Which is total cac.”
 
The Gryffindor’s first year of school had been hard, precisely because it had been her first year of any formal education.  She’d arrived at Hogwarts completely illiterate, but she had made immense progress over the last few years.  There were even a few classes she did relatively well in, especially Herbology, Defense and the other hands on classes.  She could probably even excel in them, if she put in the effort.  But, the defensive school’s-awful wall she’d built around herself during her first year still reflected the image of a failing student when she looked in the mirror.
 
“A couple students were picked up by the pro quidditch teams after their OWLs.  That's probably the best I can hope for.”