Chapter Text
The Auror orientation would begin in ten minutes. Harry checked his watch and ignored the sweat running down his back. He ignored the wiggling feeling at the back of his mind that he was letting everyone down and stepped out of the tunnel and into the stadium, just as open tryouts for Chudley Cannons began.
Harry walked over to the line of seekers. He knew that he could probably play the “I’m Harry Potter” card and get the position hands-down, but Harry just couldn’t stomach using his name. So today he was Harrison Black. He was wearing a disguise, a clever mix of glamour and polyjuice potion developed by Hermione.
Harrison Black had no scars with blue eyes instead of green. Harrison Black had never fought in a war. He was a nobody—just some guy who had been practicing Quidditch in his backyard and thought he would give playing professionally a chance. No one would know him. For the first time since he was eleven years old he would not be recognized the moment he walked into the room. Harry took a deep breath and let himself relax.
The Chudley Cannons were a team that had been struggling for a number of years. Rumors in the last few weeks indicated that the Chudley Cannons would be changing hands in the next month. The long time club owner, Rupert Manion, was rumored to have lost the club in a recent divorce. The Cannons weren’t the best team by any means, but it was the team that Ron was mostly likely to forgive him for abandoning being an Auror for. Besides, he didn't want to be on the best team. He just wanted to fly and do something that he was good at….something that he enjoyed… something he didn’t need to hurt anyone else to do. Harry had had enough of fighting…enough of dark wizards. Enough defense against the dark arts. He just wanted to be a random guy.
Harry hadn’t decided yet if he was going to be Harrison Black for the duration of his time on the team (if he made the team that is) or if he was just going to use it at tryouts and reveal himself if he was given a position on the team. The idea of lying long term didn’t sit well with him. Just the thought made the cursed scar I must not tell lies burn beneath his glamours, but he also didn’t want to be Harry Potter for this. He wanted this to be his, not Harry Potter’s. Maybe if he made the team, he could let the team know who he was, but get them to allow him to have a stage name so to speak. A great idea in theory, but he was afraid the minute that they knew who he was they would want to use him to promote the team.
A loud shrill whistle echoed with magical amplification into the stadium, one of the coaches began sorting them into groups by the positions they were trying out for. Harry joined the three other seeker hopefuls to the left of the goal post and scanned the other men and women nearby. Harry thought he might recognize a few of them from Hogwarts but none were from his year.
Harry’s attention snapped back to the gaffer in front of him. He was a grey haired man in shorts that were too small and left him constantly at risk for exposing himself. His expression was one that showed how little he really wanted to be here. He sneered at them before he spoke.
“Pitiful lot you are,” he looked them over again with a snort. “Alright I’m Coach Cartrick. We are currently down a seeker with Gudgeon retiring due to injury. We have a couple contracts in negotiation for player loans for the position. But we would like to take on two reserve players if any of you three have a speck of talent. Which I’m not holding my breath for. You lot look fresh from the wars.” Cartrick said with an exasperated huff. Harry’s opinion of the coach plummeted as the man beside him paled and gripped his broom all the tighter at mention of the war. The war may have ended two years ago now, but many were still living with the after effects. Harry included.
“Well mount up.”
Harry ran through the current line up of the team as he took to the sky. Captain and beater Roy Kent was known for his rage on and off the field. Isaac McAdoo held the position as second beater and was with no small amount of rage himself. Jamie Tart was a young showboating lead chaser on loan from Manchester Manticores. Other lesser known players included: Thierry Zoreaux as keeper, Sam Obisanya as chaser, and Colin Hughes as chaser.
Harry reveled in the thrill of being in the air again. He had played pick up games at the Weasley's of course, but that was mostly as physio for Fred (he was still struggling from his injuries from the battle of Hogwarts). This felt freer. He was meant to do good, but even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be printed in the paper. He was just some guy here.
Harry grinned his way through the loops around the field, letting the air whip through his hair. He had owl-ordered a new broom for this, a Nimbus 2000, a great broom, if not the newest on the line. It was nostalgic and it would be talent that got him his spot, not an expensive broom.
The freedom of speed drills was amazing but diving was always his favorite. That feeling of weightlessness as the ground rushed up to greet him and the intensity of pulling out of the free fall felt like living.
After a round of dodge and dive obstacles, they all took to the field and for some catch and release. Tart appeared to be enjoying conjuring small golf ball like objects to pelt at them. It took all of Harry’s resolve not to laugh out loud as he easily swooped and grabbed the balls in his assigned color. The bright green ball changed to white as he dropped it to the ground. Harry knew that they were magically enchanted to record how many he caught and how fast. After what felt like no time at all Harry stopped to catch his breath at the whistle from the gaffer. He and the other two dropped to the ground. The kit man handed him a parchment with his scores. He had missed 0 out of 100 of the balls that had been tossed, his speed was rated as excellent, and his time on the obstacle course was great. The only negatives he saw were that he had some struggles in endurance. Harry allowed himself a small smile and nod to himself. His endurance scores weren’t any surprise after years of systematic starvation topped off with the year of camping from hell. Then there was the subsequent eating disorders that he would likely be dealing with for the rest of his life (according to Hermione). So no surprise there and that was something he was already working on.
Harry glanced over to the gaffer and saw him looking at his copy of the seekers scores. Coach Cartrick was whispering and nodding with Kent and the Head coach, Ragmar Dorkins, on the other side of the field. Harry caught them pointing to him, but forced himself to turn away.
The other two trying out for seekers hadn’t seemed to do nearly as well. The blonde one did great with the catch and release, but seemed a bit shaky on the broom especially in the beginning. But the other had seemed to struggle in pretty much all of the areas, Harry didn’t think he would cut it.
They were each then called back to the air to perform some individual skills. They were paired with another player and given some pointers to give the coaches an idea of how they responded to corrections. Harry was paired with Sam Obisanya.
“Hello, I am Sam,” The man said, leaning over the side of his broom to shake his hand.
“Harrison, but you can call me Harry.” Harry said, shaking his hand. He didn’t miss the quick flick of his eyes to the place where his scar was usually visible, but his glamour held.
“Well my long name is Samuel, but I do prefer Sam.”
“Sam it is then. What criticisms do you got for me mate? I know my main weakness is endurance, but I already have a plan I’m following to work on that.”
“Well I am a chaser, but I have played seeker before in my school days. Don’t tell them I told you but I really don’t have much advice to offer you. You are already a better Seeker than I ever was. Like you said your fitness could use some work, but you aren't the only one that will be having some of those problems these years following the conflict in England. With time and patience England will continue to recover and so will you.”
Harry nodded and swallowed, the kindness was a bit of a shock, coming from someone who he had only just met and who was offering it to Harrison Black not Harry Potter. Maybe he would keep the identity, it wasn't really a lie even. Harrison apparently was his birth name, a fun fact he learned after the war and he apparently was even a true Black. Sirius had done a godparent adoption for him when he was an infant. Something that was fairly common in the old families, but something that was only in private legal paperwork. Harry wouldn’t have even known about it if it wasn't for Kreacher.
“Harry are you alright. You have spaced out for a moment there,” Sam said, interrupting his train of thought.
“Yeah sorry. Lost in thought for a moment ,” Harry shot him a smile and the dark skinned man nodded and offered him a kind smile.
“Well if you could just nod like I have given you great advice and then do the course just a bit faster this time. That would be much appreciated.”
Harry wanted to laugh before made himself offer a very considerate face and nod. Sam returned to the ground and Harry hoped he could do the kind man proud and that maybe he would be teammates with him one day.
Harry did complete the flying course and beat his earlier time by 15 seconds. Not a record he was sure, but still nothing to sneeze at. He returned to the ground and watched the other two seekers complete their “coached” leg of the tryout. The blond seeker seemed more confident on his broom this round and managed to shave off some of his time from earlier, but the other man did a little worse than before. The gaffer took him aside and after a moment he headed to the changing rooms looking a bit dejected.
Cartrick headed their way with the Head Coach Dorkins. The man looked them both over as he stopped in front of Harry and the other’s seeker.
“Congrats gents. You have both been selected as reserve seekers. We currently are in negotiations for a loan player to cover the seeker position, but our team is just shitty enough that we might not be able to pull an experienced player for a price we can afford, so Black you may be taking up the first string position in the event that none of the loan contracts go through. And…” Dorkins looked down at the paper and back up the blonde man. Morel you will be joining as a reserve player.”
“Join the rest of the team in the stand and watch the rest of try outs. We are hoping to pull a few more reserve players today. You will meet with Higgins to negotiate contracts on Monday. Training will start for you both after. A healer will need to do a physical work up on you both and have that submitted. Both of you are a bit on the scrawny side so I imagine you will both be on tailored fitness regimens to remedy that. I don’t know your stories and honestly I don’t care. All I care about is your efforts in the air. Get your shit sorted and maybe we can make this team slightly less shitty this season eh?”
Harry’s opinion of the coach dropped a bit, but he nodded all the same as the realization that he was a professional Quidditch player as of Monday hit him. He and Morel began walking towards the stands where the other team members that were not running part of tryout were watching and taking notes.
“What a welcome huh?” Harry said to the other seeker. “I’m Harrison Black by the by. I go by Harry though.”
“Scorpius Morel,” the other man said in a posh accent. “Harry huh?”
Harry watched the inevitable flick of the other man’s eyes to his hidden scar, but unlike when Sam checked, Morel seemed suspicious to find his forehead smooth and blank. “I know. I know. I am getting that a lot these days. Almost enough to go back to using my given name, but I have always been Harry. Can’t imagine changing it now.”
“Right. I guess that is fair. Nice to meet you then.” Morel shrugged and offered an awfully pale hand for him to shake.
"You as well. Come on, let's go meet our team, yeah?”
“Harry! You made it. I told you, you would didn’t I?” Sam waved him into the top box with a grin. “Come I will introduce you to some of the team. Sorry I didn’t catch your name yet.”
“This is my fellow seeker Scorpius Morel,” Harry waved the other man forward. He stepped forward and shook hands with each of the other players as they were introduced.
Harrison Black seeker to the Chudley Cannons. Ron might be pissed about auror training, but he would be pumped about that.