3Hi everyone and welcome to my new Harry Potter story! I had always had plans to write this story and it's pretty much been on the back burner while I focused on my other stories and my new job!
Beware to everyone who is going to read this; there is a fair amount of swearing in this fic; hence the T rating. Please do not write reviews scolding me about it, because I did just warn you.
Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter. The only thing I own is the plot, the OC, any other characters that you will be introduced to throughout this story and on occasion Oliver Wood, because he's totally hot ;).
ENJOY THE NEW "Dauntless Games"
So yeah, there would always be a day where I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole, but right now, there were more important things.
My name is Saskia Salia-Sanders. I know, a mouthful right? Not that kind of mouthful you dirty-minded freak.
Now I was nothing of the sort. I was a plain-Jane kind of girl. I had long blonde hair and lime green eyes, but apparently, according to my mother, they were gorgeous enough to kill. I had a simple, yet complicated tan. I don't know how a tan could be complicated, but yeah ok.
But before we really begin this story, I should probably warn you. This is not a normal story. There are things in y type of world, that aren't in yours, so I'm guessing that you don't really know the truth, so this is going to be a made-up story. Ok? Ok? Good.
So, here we go. I am a witch. I know what you're thinking, "that's completely illogical". Toughen up sweet cheeks, I am and I'm proud of it. I have just finished my magical education at a boarding school in Scotland, named Hogwarts, in the house Gryffindor and now I am standing in the lovely reception of Puddlemere Stadium, awaiting my chance to try out for the position of Seeker. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about? No!? What the actual Merlin!?
So, the game I am trying out for is called Quidditch and it's easy enough to understand. There are seven players on a team; three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper and a Seeker. That was the position I was trying out for. There are also three balls; the Quaffle is a big, brown ball which the Chasers handle and try to put it through one of three hoops, which are suspended fifty feet above the ground. The Keeper would then defend the hoops against the oppositions Chasers. Then there are two Bludgers, they are magically enchanted balls that fly around the pitch and try to unseat players from their brooms. The Beaters try to keep the Bludgers away from the other players by hitting them with a bat. Not my favourite kind of ball.
The third ball, was by far my favourite! The Golden Snitch was a ball full of intricate detail and when released is almost impossible to see. Legend says, that only those born with Seeker's blood could see the Snitch. The Seeker, which would be me, flies around the pitch in search of the Snitch and when caught, is the only thing that finishes the game. In most cases, you'll even win, but sometimes you could lose. This only happens if your team catches the Snitch, but the opposing team has scored enough goals to put themselves into a huge lead. But anyway, enough about me and my big dream of Quidditch.
"Number 27!" My number was called and I walked towards the office that I stood in front of along with only a few other Quidditch hopefuls. I made my way into the office that I had soon started to view as the bane of my existence. But hopefully, it wouldn't stay like that.
"State your full name, age, schooling education, teams you played for and preferred position," a man stated, as he didn't even bother to look up from the pieces of paper he was writing on.
"Saskia Salia-Sanders, eighteen, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Captain of Gryffindor Quidditch Team and Seeker." Ok, so I might as well fill you in on a little bit. Do you know all about Harry Potter? You do!? Thank Merlin! Ok, so do you know anything about the Battle of Hogwarts? Yes!? You have officially redeemed yourself in my eyes!
Ok, so when the Battle of Hogwarts was taking place, Harry Potter was supposed to be in his Seventh year. I was supposed to be in my Sixth. So, when Hogwarts was destroyed, the following year it was repaired and I returned to Hogwarts as the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for my Seventh year and let me tell you, I was going to win the Quidditch Cup. We hadn't won it since 1994, when Oliver Wood, was in his final yar of school at Hogwarts. So, here I am now, trying out for Puddlemere. The team that is rumoured that he tried out for when he left Hogwarts.
The man finally looked up. He was around his mid-forties, with a receding hairline, with little wisps of grey around the edges. That would be the coach, Tyrone Fletcher. The man to his side could only be the manager, Philbert Deverell. The man in question had black, wavy hair, a moustache and goatee. He had dark brown eyes that looked me over me intensely.
"What's your story 27?" Philbert asked.
"I'm trying out because I love Quidditch. The way the wind whips through my hair, the thrill of the chase of the Snitch and the competition that drives me to win. There is no feeling to compare to what it's like up there, which makes you feel so amazingly incredible, like you could take on the world. That's what Quidditch means to me." I finished as I looked to the manager and the coach.
"But why Puddlemere?" Philbert asked, his interest in me obviously peaked, as to wonder why a girl like me, could describe Quidditch so incredibly and utterly to the detail.
"Puddlemere United is one of the best teams in the nation! I believe that it would not only help me channel my more competitive side, but also help me find a way of being better as a person. My brother loved Quidditch and when he was told he couldn't play, he stopped believing in Quidditch, but also in magic. I want to show him that it's ok to be scared and unsure, but that there is no logical reason to turn your back on your kind. Then again, that's a story for another time," I finished, as I looked to Tyrone and Philbert.
"What makes you believe that you can stand out against the rest of the young hopeful's out there?" Tyrone asked me. By now, I was starting to get very cheesed off with this guy's attitude.
"Look, I'm only going to say this once. I don't want a glorified backstage pass, I'm also not one of those petty little girls who you can boss around and think that I'm gonna break in less than ten minutes. So what you need to do 'Mr Fletcher', is pull your stubborn head out of your ass and grow a fucking pair. Stop being a male chauvinist pig and another sexist male adult and give all the females out there, including myself a chance! Grow the fuck up and stop thinking that only males can play Quidditch the way it was meant to be played! For fuck's sake, we're not sissies! We're not the fucking Hollyhead Harpies! No offence to them," I finished my full-fledged rant, which was probably a very bad idea on my part. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked on at the very shocked faces of Philbert and Tyrone. Oh, I am so screwed.
Philbert then burst out laughing and started to slap his leg in hysterics. Tyrone just sat there silently, his face turning a slight shade of beetroot red. In embarrassment or anger, I wasn't sure.
"Oh my!" Philbert managed to gasp out as he desperately tried to get oxygen into his lungs. He eventually stopped laughing and then proceeded to wipe away the tears in the corners of his eyes. "We have never had anyone speak to Tyrone like that! You, young lady are a piece of work, that will most definitely give the boys a run for their money! Take this piece of paper and then go straight to the playing field for drills. Good luck!" Philbert smiled in a way that a friend would, while Tyrone huffed and mumbled under his breath while he signed the piece of paper.
"Thank you, Mr Deverell." I thanked the man as I shook his outstretched hand.
"Please, call me Phil!" He cried cheerfully. I smiled once again and then turned my attention to Tyrone with the piece of paper.
"Thank you, Mr Fletcher," I thanked him, as it was only polite considering I did just call him sexist and a male chauvinist pig. He didn't even acknowledge my thanks and just continued to grumble under his breath some more.
I took the piece of paper and walked out of the office.
"Number 28!" I saw a small, scrawny boy gulp nervously, before tugging at his collar and walking into the office.
I made my way through twists and turns that to be honest, would probably get me into more trouble than good.
I turned a corner and knew it was all my luck when I crashed into someone. A very bare someone. I looked up at the man who had knocked me down onto the marble paved floor and blushed a deep shade of scarlet. He was shirtless, yes, but it wasn't like I hadn't seen it all before.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you!" I apologised profusely as the man in front of me laughed loudly.
"It's ok chica," he started as he pulled a blue Puddlemere shirt over his head and over his very tanned body. "What's your name, I haven't seen you around before," he chuckled, as he looked me over.
"Saskia. But then again to Tyrone, I'm just '27'." I introduced with a tone of slight annoyance. I was lost and I hated it. The man must have noticed, because his grin fell and he looked at me with worried eyes.
"You alright Saskia?" He asked, as his eyes tried to make contact with mine.
"Oh yeah, I'm fine! I think I blew the interview, I'm supposed to be on the field with the defence and attack coaches, I'm lost in this stupid maze of hallways and I just crashed into probably one of the hottest Quidditch players I have ever laid eyes on, so yeah, I'm just peachy, thanks for asking," I bit back with a very sarcastic tone and a slight amount of venom.
He looked at me point blank for a few seconds, before his shoulders started shaking as he tried to stifle his laughs.
"You can laugh out loud, it's not the first time someone would do that today," I huffed as I blew a piece of my wavy bleach blonde hair out of my eyes.
It took him not even a second before he burst out in the loudest laugh I have ever heard. It wasn't long before he looked up at my probably annoyed face and stance.
"So you're the girl we could all hear in the locker room? You're the female that could scream at the top of her lungs, the one that called someone a male chauvinist pig?" He asked, as he leant up against the wall, to catch his breath.
"You heard that in the locker rooms?" I asked astonished and sort of embarrassed.
"Yeah, most of the team did, but don't worry, we all found it very entertaining. Now come on, I'll take you to the field," the guy laughed as he placed a gentle hand on my elbow and guided me through the twists and turns, a maze of hallways and then out onto the field.
"Far out, is Wood still going?" He asked, as he looked up to the sky, where an enchanted quaffle flew through the air and tried to get through the hoops, but someone kept deflecting them. That someone had to be the most drool-worthy Quidditch player I had ever laid eyes on. That person was none other than Puddlemere's youngest Captain and their Keeper, Hogwarts alum and Gryffindor Quidditch Captain in 1994, Oliver Wood. The only word to go through my head?
Yummy.
"Yep, he said he wasn't coming down until he got it right. Typical Wood," someone answered and then turned around to face the guy that was with me.
"Hello! Who are you?!" The new guy asked, as his eyes practically bulged out of his head as he looked me up and down. This then brought the entire attention of the whole team to me, excluding Wood of course.
"Team, meet Saskia! Saskia, meet the team!" Minus Wood, but I'm sure you'll meet him when he sees your drills!" The man who had escorted me introduced me to the team, but I just realised I had no idea who any of them were.
"I never actually caught your name," I whispered to the guy who had escorted me to the field.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Where the hell are my manners?" He laughed, as he held out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Nicholas Addams, but everyone around here calls me Nik. I'm one of the outside Chasers," he introduced himself and it was nice to finally put a name to the face. I looked around at the other members of Puddlemere that were all coming closer to see the girl who had captured everyone's attention.
"I'm Samuel Magee, but everyone here calls me Sam. I am very pleased to meet you Kia," the guy that answered Nik's question and looked at me like I was a piece of meat, introduced himself.
"It's Saskia to you," I sneered in complete and utter distaste. All the boys that had surrounded my small figure all looked pretty shocked at how I had talked to him. But I wasn't just your typical girl. I was not a peppy cheerleader and I most definitely did not take crap from anybody.
"This is going to be a very interesting audition Miss Sanders," I heard someone behind me, very obviously trying to stifle a laugh. I turned around to see one of the main training coaches.
"Well sir, I know I won't give up easily," I replied as I turned my whole attention to the man that stood before me. He seemed to be in his late thirties, maybe early forties, with a thick head of brown hair and piercing green eyes that could rival the Scottish mountains. He was think, yet muscled and I could easily see that he was the guy I was looking for.
The man smiled at me before turning his head up to Oliver.
"Will he ever come down, I need his help and opinion on the fresh meat," I heard him mumble as I simply stood in the middle of the pitch.
"I can get him down if you like?" I asked as I watched nearly every member of the Puddlemere United team look at me in what could easily be conveyed as shock and confusion.
"And how would you get him down chica?" Nik asked me as he raised both of his eyebrows in question.
"Easily, beat a bludger at him, he'd either have to avoid that or the ground, his choice," I replied with a wicked smirk. My mother always said I had a strange and dark sense of humour, however I saw it as more of a way of getting what I wanted.
Now don't let that fool you. I wasn't spoiled, far from it actually. I was just used to having the right answer to every situation. It was a gift I had always had. A gift straight from Albus Dumbledore when I was born actually, I guess it was the perks of being his great-niece. Just don't let that get around will you?
"Oh, she's gonna fit in great," Sam smiled wickedly as he picked up his bat and unleashed a bludger from its holding cell in a wooden box. The bludger flew straight up in to the air and came wizzing back down like it was on fire or something. Sam lined the ball up perfectly, pulled back him arm and then swung forward, just in time to see the bludger make contact with the bat.
A sickening crack filled the air as the beaten ball flew through the air, right on the line to Oliver Wood. I didn't want to hurt him, let's just get that straight. I just wanted to make sure the team knew that I meant business. Serious business.
"Whoa!" Oliver's voice carried through the air as he just escaped the wrath of the enchanted steel ball. The bludger quickly turned around and made its way back to Sam and its home in the cramped space. Sam caught the ball with exquisite precision and didn't even struggle to place it back in confinement.
It wasn't long until Oliver finally made his way back down to earth.
"Who the hell thought it was a good idea to hurl a bludger at me when I am completely out of it concentrating on the Quaffle?" Oliver's voice definitely sounded mad and annoyed.
"Mine," I spoke up as he looked down on his other teammates. His head whipped around so fast, I'm surprised he didn't get whiplash.
"And who are you?" He asked as he looked at me with distaste and disdain.
"Saskia Sanders, I'm training for the Seeker position. Now if you don't mind, I want to start. I don't wait around for anyone. When I want to start, we all start." I replied as I narrowed my eyes at the former Gryffindor captain.
"Spunky female, huh?" Oliver spat as he looked me up and down with an unidentified look in his eyes. "Ready for your training, 27?" He asked as he straightened his stance and squared his shoulders in some form of defiance.
"You call me 27, one more time and I will make you wish you were never born, Woody." I sneered as I instantly had my mind made up about him.
Harry was wrong about him. So was Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Angelina. No one could possibly have his head stuck so far up his ass that he had to hide the fact that he was an asshole. Then again, he wasn't doing a very good job hiding the fact that he wasn't just an ass, but he was a male chauvinist pig and I bet that every female who had ever met him thought was the most annoying person on the planet.
Seriously, I would have had more fun with Viktor Krum and that was truly saying something. Krum was probably smarter than this idiotic goober.
"Are you ready for a pain staking tryout or are you not going to try out because you're a girl?" He asked as he crossed his arms across his chest and smirked down at me. Oh, he was so going to regret that. The entire team, excluding Wood of course immediately took five gigantic steps back and away from the swinging rage. They had only known me for five minutes, but at least they were smarter than this fucknugget.
"Bring it asshole," I replied as I took my bag off of my shoulder and dropped it onto the pitch. Oliver's reaction was absolutely priceless and to tell the truth, I couldn't wait to wipe that smile of his face. This was going to be fun.