summary: Harry Potter, the Golden Boy of Quidditch, signs on to the Chudley Cannons, in a move that shocks Quidditch enthusiasts everwhere. Ginny Weasley, the Quidditch Correspondent for the Prophet, is shadowing the team. It's bount to be an interesting season. (a vaguely ted lasso au featuring: pining, locker room shenanigans, newspaper articles, and quidditch. lots of quidditch)
THE QUIDDITCH FIC IS HERE!!! thank you SO much to @solongdaisymayy for the moodboards, (including the one in this post) the motivation, the endless chats about this fic, and for being amazing. and a huge thank you to @starlingflight as well, who helped SO MUCH and without whom this fic wouldn't be here <3
excerpt from my upcoming hinny quidditch au, heaven knows i've tried, below the read more!
(thanks to @solongdaisymayy, who made me this moodboard based off this scene and incentivized me to post an excerpt!!)
The Chudley Cannons to hold tryouts this Saturday
by Ginny Weasley
The Chudley Cannons will hold team tryouts this Saturday. The event, as all Quidditch League tryouts are, will be open to the press and to any hopeful witches and wizards hoping to end up with a spot on the team. Has the Golden Boy of Quidditch done the impossible and made a spot on the Chudley Cannons something to covet, instead of something to be whispered about in shame? Only time will tell! When asked for a comment, Ms Hermione Granger, owner of the Cannons, said, “We’re looking forward to seeing what everybody has to offer; I know Ron and Harry feel the same way.” When I asked Potter if Ms Granger’s words were true, he said, “I suppose.” Full details of the tryouts can be found on page 9.
***
Harry hates Saturdays.
Well. Not all Saturdays, but he hates this Saturday. He arrives at the Cannons pitch early, as directed to by Ron and Hermione. Ron’s waiting for him in the dressing room. “How did tryouts go at Puddlemere United?” he asks Harry. He seems to be attempting to inhale his coffee rather than drink it, but then again, it is just seven in the morning.
Harry shrugs, setting his rucksack down. “Intense,” he says. “But don’t worry,” he adds, seeing the look of what can only be called pure panic on Ron’s face, “we’ll be fine. Where’s Hermione?”
“She’ll be watching the tryouts,” Ron says. “Which is Hermione-speak for I’ll be doing paperwork in the sidelines, of course.”
“Of course,” Harry says, amused.
He’s written to a few of his old friends, but he’s not sure who’ll be there. Some of them have played for other teams previously, to be fair, so he’s got no idea which of them will be able to show up or not. The reserve team is… fine. They’ve had a few more days’ practice, as best as they can with a team that is still technically incomplete. Harry’s had a lot of practice holding in his temper, but it’s been hard. He’s desperately hoping for a good turnout today.
“Morning,” says a familiar voice, and Harry turns to see Ginny Weasley at the entrance of the dressing room. She’s wearing robes today, a set of well-pressed and official-looking robes, and has an official press pass around her neck. Her official press clothes, Harry surmises.
“You’re here early,” Ron says.
“Early bird gets the exclusive with the Golden Boy,” Ginny says cheerfully. “So, Harry, how are you feeling about the tryouts?”
“Oh, er. I dunno,” Harry says.
Ginny rolls her eyes. “That would make a fun exclusive, wouldn’t it? Harry Potter, the Golden Boy of Quidditch himself, says he ‘doesn’t know’ about the tryouts. Come on, you don’t have anything better than that?”
“I really hate the Golden Boy thing,” Harry says.
“I know,” Ginny says. “You get all frowny whenever anyone brings it up.”
“Frowny?” Harry repeats.
“Yeah,” Ginny says, unfazed. “So. What are you hoping for? I’ve heard that people have already started to show up.”
“Tryouts don’t start for an hour,” Ron says.
“Yes, but when you get the chance to play for the Golden Boy himself…” Ginny winks at Harry, and Harry feels a spasm in his chest. A spasm of irritation, he tells himself, but he doesn’t know if he manages to convince himself in the least. “If I were you,” she continues, “I’d be hoping for a strong Keeper. You’re a strong enough Seeker that you don’t have to worry too much about the quality of your Chasers. But if you get a Keeper who lets in all the goals, you’ve lost before you even start playing, you know?”
Harry blinks. As a matter of fact, that’d been his exact thought process. “Where are you going to watch from?” he asks Ginny.
“The stands,” Ginny says. “In the press area. Why, is this a trick question?”
“We’ve given the press a shit area,” Harry says.
Ron cracks a smile at that. “I knew you did that on purpose.”
Harry shrugs. “You should sit with Hermione,” he tells Ginny. “You’ll get a better view of everything.”
“Are you sure?” Ginny says.
In response, Harry gets his wand out and taps the pass Ginny’s wearing around her neck. “There.”
“Thanks,” Ginny says. There’s a mischievous smile on her face as she says, “that’s almost as good as you giving me an official comment.”
“Better luck next time,” Harry says. “You all set, Coach?”
“Feels weird whenever you call me that,” Ron grumbles, but gets to his feet. “Come on, then. I’m all set.”
---
[full fic coming soon, feel free to chat with me about it until then! <3]
have you read the quidditch fic yet? here's a moodboard that @solongdaisymayy – the love of my life – made for it, and it felt like a crime not to post it 😤
heaven knows i've tried (27919 words)
Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Angelina Johnson/George Weasley
Harry Potter, the Golden Boy of Quidditch, signs on to the Chudley Cannons, in a move that shocks Quidditch enthusiasts everwhere. Ginny Weasley, the Quidditch Correspondent for the Prophet, is shadowing the team. It's bound to be an interesting season.
(a vaguely ted lasso au featuring: pining, locker room shenanigans, newspaper articles, and quidditch. lots of quidditch.)
snippet from my upcoming hinny quidditch au, heaven knows i've tried, below the cut! (moodboard by the AMAZING @solongdaisymayy, who i would die for in a heartbeat)
*
Harry knows he should shut up, but he can’t seem to stop. “He was always a sore loser.”
“And an angry loser to boot,” Ginny says.
Harry looks at Ginny, a slow frown dawning on his face. Angry. He wonders if Michael Corner snapped at Ginny in the few minutes between the match ending and her walking in here. He wishes a Bludger had made contact with him, if that was the case. “You alright?” he asks.
“Hm?” Ginny says, as if startled by the question, and then straightens up, turning to look at the team. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Oi, George – is that champagne?” she calls out, and is swept up by George and Oliver before Harry can think of how to respond to her.
