Book 2, Chapter 05, Canon and Butterflies.

You know what they say about the little things you overlook ?

Their tendencies to bit you in the arse ?

To escalate, expand and grow out of control ?

While I was busy explaining my thoughts about the moron to my friends, someone sneaked in the common room with some artefacts that were already subject to gossip.

A knock came from the door, interrupting a conversation that was about to finish.

- Draco, yu've gat to came her', it's incredable.

Goyle tried to say excitedly in English (At least, I think it's in English. Please correct me if I'm wrong. Also, did you notice that Fleur speaks a better English than the trolls ? And she's French. Ok, Viktor can too. But she's more noticeable, no idea why). 

With intrigued minds, we followed him, crossing the others Slytherins who were excitedly talking about it, while the rhinoceros before us charged through the crowd like an icebreaker.

Only good thing ? It did establish a passage.

A human wall opened in front of my friends and me, letting us see my father, seating on a couch with a cup of tea and the air of a cat who ate the canary, put the blame on the dog, to condemn it to be eaten by the crocodile by bribing the lion-judge.

- Good-evening, Son.

- Father. I did a short bow.

Accompanying him was Dobby, currently laying the last wrapped broom on one of the low tables in front of a window. He then started to unwrap them one after the other, then dispose them carefully against the window.

As always, said "secret merchandise" was wrapped to protect it during transport but it's form made it easily noticeable.

So yes, everyone minus two knew it was brooms. Their brand was plainly visible, another one of my father's tricks.

And there the canon goes messing with my plans again.

Come on mom, please watch over him more closely.

 

Who am I kidding ?

He probably ran the idea to her first, presenting it like a perfect way to advertise me, pull people to me, rally followers under my banner, raise my fame, and all the like.

I fell like I'm in the blond family of G.O.T...

Merlin's pants, what am I supposed to do between my dotting mother and my sociopath of a father ?

Flint was right next to my father, ready to bark at his command. 

(By the way, don't bother asking yourself how he got there, school board of governors are entitled to their privileged right to come unannounced whenever they like for inspections and/or interviews with the staff or the director. The fact that he used such a rule just to play Santa for me, well, you know what he think about rules).

Dobby finished the unwrapping, placing the last of a series of seven brooms on a perfect display against the window behind his master. The light of the lake couldn't have been more perfect to showcase them and people were talking animatedly about it.

Looking at him, I wonder how that man and Lockhart didn't end up BFFs in canon, and now.

(make others do the work and take the credit, does it ring a bell ?)

Flint must have called the rest of the team beforehand as they were all reunited on his and my father's right side.

While everybody was owing the brooms, I caught sight of Zabini's face in the crowd, beaming with jealousy. (lighthouse style). He did start to resent me for not bowing to his superiority at the end of last school year. All of this for one specific and particular reason, that I don't want to talk about.

Sorry but Daphne and I are in front of you with our results. And that's only counting the green team.

I don't remember if canon-me had to deal with it or not, but I think it must have been one of the first butterflies effect I caused.

He kind of didn't like me being recalcitrant to put up a meeting between his mother and my father.

My mom is ALIVE and WELL !

Not that I would let them approach her.

Said mother, Zabini Vera wasn't always called like that. She took the name of her first late husband (and everything else he owned except for his dried mummy) for herself. 

Before that she was only a extremely beautiful simple witch from central Europe, then proceeded to meet a wizard from Italian-English decent.

- Is it true ? Draco answer me ! Shouted Flint, with his usual discretion and tact.

I looked at him calmly then at my father.

- It would depend on the question your didn't ask Flint.

- Your father say you're a really good quiddish player. And that he would give the whole team brand new Nimbus 2001,...

- It is indeed true that our team's brooms are currently lacking some punch and that his patronage would improve it's competencies, but training will still be essential for us to win. (I interrupted him before he blurted out things that would fare better hidden). Also, I would never want to impose myself unfairly. As my father must have asked you beforehand, I would suggest our house to hold tryouts.

- Your dad asked to let you in the team in exchange for the brooms, I'm ok with it.

Did you ever wonder if there was an Hogwarts' student that had less tact and manners (and brains) than Ron ?

Drum-rolls...

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Marcus Flint from Slytherin...

You all caught my subtle notch to him to not make me appear like I'm buying my ticket, didn't you ?

Is he stupid twenty four / seven or does he sleep at night ?

---

Saturday morning,

Slytherins' Tryouts.

A.K.A : Let's take back the quiddish pitch the red team tried to monopolize. Two houses can play that game Wood.

That Saturday morning, our whole house climbed up the stairs from the dungeons to the pitch.

Normally a news like us getting brand new brooms would have circled the school in less than an hour.

But this time, I put on a Slytherins' house' secret clause.

No one was supposed to know about it outside of us.

I even brought a magical contract. (Didn't do it myself, there are lawyers for that). 

The weather was perfect. No clouds to play tricks with their shadows when you fly underneath them. 

Sun wasn't too bright to blind us.

Warm but not hot. 

It was one hour after breakfast. Not too early to be sleepy during our test, but with long enough time to eat so you won't puke.

As we walked down to the quidditch stadium, the red team on it saw us approach.

For myself I noticed that particular person standing happily and cheering on one of the tiers.

Wood almost ran towards us as he realized we meant to use the pitch.

 

- Flint ! He bellowed at our captain. This is our practice time ! We got up specially for it ! You must clear off now !

He got up for it ? What practice was he doing putting his whole team to sleep ?

Now if you remember Flint's description. He's like a grownup version of the trolls. Pretty much the same I.Q. 

I mean, it always amazed me how he manage not to drool when walking around. 

- Plenty of room for all of us, Wood. 

He would have tried to get physical if I didn't warn him not to. 

The rest of the team was leering and googling the red chasers girls.

Can't blame them, these three are poster girls, (One of the twins married one of them), but they really looked like drooling cavemen.

- But I booked the pitch ! Pouted Wood, throwing a temper. I booked it !

 - Ah, said Flint, but I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practise today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to recruit their new members.

(Not like I had him repeat the lines in advance, I literally felt my hair going gray during the process). 

- You’ve got new members ? said Wood, distracted. Where ?

He finally looked where the rest of us were. Did you really miss the twenty-five candidates ? All in quidditch green colours ?

While all of this was happening the clicketing song in the bleachers kept kicking until...

- YOU ! I will give you two sickles for each picture of Draco you will sell to me ! Said a commanding voice next to Creevey. Emma Vane. She has a little sister going by the name Romilda Vane. Birds of a feather...

As soon as she said that, others started to ask for it too. Including the two who were holding a banner of which I know nothing about. Then pandemonium erupted, when HP's fans got into the game. 

I... Really don't want to talk about it. TRY to look behind me I will rip your eyeballs out.

Especially as it's only a matter of time before THAT GUY  realize it. His jealousy will be, biblical.

If Creevey can play it smart, he could strike gold. Or be decapitated...

I pretended that I didn't see it or them. Or the jealous looks from Zabini. Feel free to take them, it's on me.

- Everybody form ranks in front of us. Choose which post you want to play at. (Don't thank me for the tip. Flint wanted to go one person at a time without organization).

The rest of the current players grouped themselves according to it. They would be the judges.

The keeper.

The beaters.

The seeker.

And of course the chasers, including Flint. 

Out of the twenty-five that wanted in, most were first years, they flunked from the start. They clearly didn't have the skills sets. Others only wanted in for the new brooms.

Climbing the stairs they went up to see the rest of the show. 

A pre-screening prevented us from having the giggling-girls that shamed Griffindor's tryouts in their future in our current tryouts.

Twelve candidates were left. Four tried for beaters. But were under-performing compared with the actual post-holders. For once dumb and strong played well for them. One of these dudes even used his head to strike a bludger (not sure if he correctly understood his parents' advice...) Got the mother of nosebleed but smiled like the proudest donkey.

Ensued a shower of missed strikes, some head concussions, nose bleeds and black eyes from the bludgers. One of the trainees held his bat upside down...

We didn't drive the two best ones out but put them on the reserve team, team A and B would be mixed and from now on play against each other to up their game. From now on, we all would have to train, upgrade our skills and stay at the top of our game if we didn't want to lose our position. It would keep the permanent team on edge, and prepare for their replacement when they leave the school.

The keeper position only had two contestants. One tried to crash into the chaser to prevent the scoring. The other... Well, the least we could say was he knew the starfish position.

Only that one.

Hanging from his broom in front of the central hoop. Not able to care for the others. 

Strike three. Out. Both of them.

The current keeper, Miles Bletchey laughed so much he had to go to the toilet.

The seeker's position saw Zabini (and nobody else) try his best. Unluckily, his best was only good enough for B team.

Unluckily we were in an Harry Potter's fanfiction. If we had been in a Star Wars fanfic, his hate for me would have been strong enough to crush the Death Star. 

My tryout went last with the other four candidates. 

We had to exchange the quaffle with Flint or Pucey Adrian.

Do you want to know why I wanted to be a chaser ?

I let everybody else know, I can tell you too.

I really don't want to play only for five minutes in the game. It would be really boring. Neither do I want to pass my time doing looping to cheer my team or swallow the snitch. I didn't like training with golf balls. My dream was to score as many goals as possible. 

I soon found myself close to Adrian, the other chaser. He didn't think the best way to win was to hurt and maim the other players, but more by playing sneaky, tactically, and strategically. 

As I finished my tryout, (and confirmed my position in the A Team, I was asked a question from the twins.

- Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son ?

- Funny you should mention Draco’s father, said Flint, as the whole team smiled still more broadly. Let me show you the generous gift he’s made to us. All seven of us held out our broomsticks, yep, I earned it now. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words ‘Nimbus Two Thousand and One’ gleamed under the Gryffindors’ noses in the early-morning sun. Very latest model. Only came out last month, said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps, he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives, sweeps the board with them.

Funny how he didn't need a prompt to taunt and bully them.

By that point, the whole red team and their support was confronting us.

Even Hermione became mean.

- At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way  in, she said sharply. They got in on pure talent.

- I asked for tryouts for the sole reason of bringing this kind of accusations in the mud. Everyone here saw how I can fly. 

By the end of my speech she had pink cheeks. It didn't last.

- No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood, puked Zabini. 

Really man ? Are you really trying to take my canon-role ? Is that why you're trying so hard to get your mom and my father together ?

I'm too tired right now to describe the following brawl. 

Let just say that it involved Slugs... 

---

I will tell on you to mommy.

Wonder how people felt seeing canon-me do it back then ?

The situation with Zabini not making the cut only lasted for three days.

Just long enough for Higgs' father (current seeker) to pull him out of school. 

His family owned a small store. Their finances were on the same level as the Weasleys, if you get my meaning. 

So, his family was more than pleased when presented with "an offer they couldn't refuse" to not only give them enough money to retire, but with a scholarship to the Durmstang Institute for their son. 

A letter of acceptance from the institute's director was included in the proposition. 

It would allow their son, an aspiring new seeker, to study with some of the bests, including young prodigy Viktor Krum.

News of the plot circled the school in less than an hour.

Congratulations Zabini. You're now more hated than me.

A real accomplishment.

That guy is definitely trying to take over my canon-role. 

Following all of this, Zabini was able to take over the seeker's position in the rooster A. 

---

The challenge.

For those wondering what happened when Zabini flipped back then.

- I'm a better seeker than you will ever be. I'm lighter, shorter, faster. I've better reflexes, a keen eye, been flying on a broom since my birth. I don't care if your father gave the team new brooms, I challenge you. Come to me if you dare, any day, anytime on the field. 

Every Slytherin present, be it students or allumni, knew of the rivalry between us.

So, I gave him my best Draco-special-smile, accompanied with a small respectful bow.

- I am happy that you managed to gather the courage to confess your feelings before all of us, but, unfortunately, I have to reject your challenge. Although I am not entirely sure about your choice, I am really not fond of the seeker position, so I guess that doesn't really matter anyway. My goal is to join the tryouts for the chaser's position. Sorry about that."

(Thank you Yuna-sama for being a constant inspiration. This mere follower hope to one day be able to read the rest of your adventures)

Zabini's public challenge was an attack. He wanted every single Slytherin to know about it. To witness it. To be it's herald and profess how he was able to humiliate me and beat me.

There wasn't any honourable way for me to evade it. 

Should I wanted the seeker's number (chasers one to three, beaters four and five, keeper is six, seeker seven).

My friends were looking at him hatefully. My father found himself bound by his plan to raise my position. Unable to help publicly but already planing behind closed doors. 

All of them witnessed my plea. All of them rallied to me.

For I didn't evade it. 

I nullified it, him, without forfeiting honour.

Epic. 

Even my father couldn't help but smile.