Heinrich Hexenmeister
I get award for best big brother, yes?
Wed Feb 13, 2019 14:15
166.137.14.28

“First, we jog around the pitch,” Heinrich translated the critical piece of information into German for his sister. “It’s not a race!” he called after her belatedly as she took off. She didn’t seem to hear him and he cursed quietly under his breath and then raced after her. In spite of his two year advantage in age and growth (not that the later amounted to much more than half an inch), Hilda was faster than him. For all that she was only eleven, she seemed to actually be keeping up with the lead group. Heinrich, on the other hand, was falling farther and farther behind, as his initial burst of speed burned out his reserves quickly, and he had to stop briefly to heave for breath before continuing on.

Everyone else had already started stretching before he finished, collapsing in a panting sweating mess next to Hilda. She seemed to have figured out what she was supposed to be doing without help, so he just flopped down on his face and rested until they were told to mount up. By then he had at least caught his breath, so he was able to translate for her, “Three laps on brooms, last two are a race.” She nodded and took off. He didn’t try to keep up this time. He was an Aladren. He’d already learned his lesson that attempting that was a quick way to an early grave.

He wasn’t a bad flier by any means, and he had played local Quidditch in Germany before The Upheaval started, so he wasn’t bad for a thirteen year old, though he was a bit rusty. He had definitely spent a lot more of the last two years working on his English than his Quidditch and it showed.

He finished well behind Hilda and she raised an eyebrow at him as if to ask what took him so long. But then the Coach started explaining the skill test, and Heinrich was too busy trying to listen to words not in his native tongue and repeat them back to his sister in their home language while still logging the English input that he didn’t have time or brainpower to be indignant.

He thought he managed well enough and he felt this alone deserved some kind of award, never mind how he did in the actual tryouts. Which, given his performance just in warmups so far, he was going to estimate would rank somewhere around ‘poorly’.

Things did look up a bit as he carried the quaffle through the course though. He wasn’t flawless, or blindingly fast, but he didn’t think he was doing too much worse than anybody else. He wasn’t standing out from the crowd in a good way, either, unfortunately, but he did toss the quaffle through the unguarded hoop and catch the one that came back at him.

Beating was more Hilda’s area than his, but Heinrich managed the return trip through the obstacles no better or worse than his first trip, though he did use the bat against some of the obstacles to reduce the number of times he and his broom connected with any of them. He just wasn’t sure if the bat touching them counted as a collision, too.

His ending swat at the bludger sent it near the goal but not through it. Of course, Hilda was right behind him and immediately showed him up by whacking hers right through the center hoop like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Once everyone had finished taking their turns at the agility test, Heinrich again did the English in one ear German out through his mouth thing again as he shared the next set of instructions with Hilda. Then they split up and she was on her own as he joined the Chaser hopefuls and she went to the beating side of the pitch.

Heinrich went to the center of the field, and was initially confused when the boy - Parker, Heinrich thought he remembered from classes this year - said something about a fair fight. They were supposed to be teammates. What was he, oh. The Keeper. Parker used strange English words Heinrich did not know but guessed from context might be maybe Quadpot terms? Heinrich did not follow Quadpot, and he definitely did not follow it in English. Quadpot was supposed to be big in America but Sonora seemed thankfully more interested in Quidditch.

Anyway Parker was giving Isaac (that was apparently the Keeper’s name though he was old enough that Heinrich had never encountered him before) Keeping advice. Fine, okay. Heinrich wouldn’t have minded the advantage of going up against an inexperienced player, but he didn’t think the shouted advice provided by Parker was enough to make up for any assumed lack of prior practice.

“I believe little change,” Heinrich stated his opinion, his words heavily accented but understandable. “Good advice, but it hard to do. He will learn, but not yet. Eye wants to follow ball. It is bigger. But I am ready. Let us go. You go fast, I pass.” He held up the Quaffle he currently had possession of.

He started flying then, moving swiftly but not at top speed. When he felt Parker had a good lead on him, but not so far he couldn’t make the pass, Heinrich called out, “Bereit?” The German slipped out through situational habit, and he grimaced in self-recrimination, but there was no time to dwell on the vebal gaffe. He tossed the ball, his pass steady and on target, hopefully making up for the communication failure.


OOC: Bereit = ready

  • A bundle of energyParker Fitzgerald, Mon Feb 11 12:49
    Parker had been surprised to see Isaac Songs name on the tryout sheet. He didn’t know the boy, but did know he’d not seen him on the Quidditch field before. When he came down to breakfast he noticed... more
    • I get award for best big brother, yes? — Heinrich Hexenmeister, Wed Feb 13 14:15
      • You got my vote, and I'm a big brother too.Parker Fitzgerald, Thu Feb 14 09:29
        Parker raised an eyebrow. The accent was one he could place. It took him a moment, but then he realized it was German. Henrich, that was the boys name. A german Henry. He was used to the... more
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