"Follow me!" Zane shouted over the wind as he swooped by.

        The other figures resolved as they centered on James. He saw Ted and Gennifer, the Ravenclaw. They moved into formation around him. Ted was calling directions to James, but he couldn't make them out. He concentrated on angling the broom in the direction that Zane was flying. The clouds barreled past again like freight trains, and James lost sight of the other flyers. There was a buffeting shock of cold air, and then the ground opened up beneath James, swaying with enormous finality. The Quidditch pitch was rising to meet him, its matted grass looking very hard and unforgiving. Zane was still ahead of James, but he was pulling back, slowing, gesturing wildly with one hand. James pulled back on his own broomstick, trying to emulate Zane, but the force of the wind roaring past fought him. He battled it, turning, wrestling the broomstick up so that he feared it might snap beneath him. And then his rain-slicked hands slipped, fumbled and he fell backwards, gripping the broom desperately with only his legs. He was spinning wildly, end over end. James felt the force of Zane whipping past, Zane's shouts diminishing behind him with horrible speed. The ground swooped around his head, reaching up to embrace him, and James heard the sound of it, a huge, low roar, getting louder and louder until…

There was a horrible jolt. James squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to hear the sound of his body hitting the ground. There was no sound. He risked opening his eyes just a tiny bit, and then looked around with relief and surprise. He was hovering five feet above the center of the Quidditch pitch, still straddling his broom, but not holding on. Rain hissed all around him as the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors stared at him. Zane, Ted, and Gennifer drifted down around James, gawping at him. Then Ted turned. James followed his eyes.

        Ralph stood on the edge of the field, his robes soaked through and sticking to him, an umbrella lying abandoned at the edge of the grandstands. Every muscle in Ralph's body seemed to be tensed, straining, as he held his ridiculous, enormous wand straight out, pointing it at James. He was trembling visibly. Rain streamed down his face, matting his hair to his forehead.

        "Do I have to keep this up?" he said through gritted teeth. "Or can I let go now?"

        "Don't think of it as looking like a miserable failure on a broomstick," Zane said afterwards as they all sat in the Ravenclaw common room. "Think of it as giving Ralphie here a chance to look positively brilliant!"

        James said nothing. He sat slumped at the end of the couch, his head propped miserably on his hand.

        "Besides, if I hadn't hopped on my broomstick and took off after you, I don't think I'd have been able to figure it out at all. It was just a matter of not thinking about it, really."

        "Spectacular stuff out there, Walker," an older student said as he passed the couch, ruffling Zane's damp hair.

        "Yeah," another one said from across the room. "Normally, first years tryouts are just for laughs. With you, we get the laughs and the skills." There was a round of laughter and scattered applause. Zane beamed, soaking it up.

"Seriously, though," Ralph said from where he sat on the floor, his back to the fire, "how'd you do that? Flying is supposed to be pretty tough to master."

        "I dunno, honestly," Zane said. "I saw James heading into the stratosphere and I just took off after him. I hardly even knew I was doing it until the very end, when I realized I was nose-diving straight into the pitch. I pulled up at the last second, just as the human torpedo here went past me, and I thought, 'Look at me! I'm flying!' Maybe it was all those racing games and flight simulators I grew up playing with my dad. The feel of it all just made sense to me." Zane suddenly seemed to realize this conversation wasn't lifting James' mood much. "But enough about me and my broom. What about you, Ralphie?"

        Ralph blinked thoughtfully, and then picked up his wand from where it lay on his wet cloak. It was just as huge and ridiculous as always, still with the tip whittled down and painted lime green, but nobody was laughing at it anymore. "I don't know. It's like you said, isn't it? I just didn't think about it. I saw James falling and I thought of the feather in Flitwick's class. Next thing I know, I'm pointing my wand at him and yelling--"

        Several students, including Zane, ducked and called out as Ralph flicked his wand ahead of him. Ralph smiled sheepishly. "Get a grip, everybody. I wasn't gonna say it."

        "Ralph, you're the real deal, mate," Zane said, recovering. "You went from floating a feather to a human body in one class, you know? My boy's got talent."

        James stirred. "If you two are done congratulating yourselves, I'm gonna go find a hole and live in it for the rest of the year."

        "Hey, I'll bet Grawp's girlfriend has room in her cave," Ralph said. Zane did a double take at Ralph, open-mouthed.

        "What?" Ralph said. "It'll save him some time looking!"

        "He's joking," Zane said, glancing at James. "I couldn't tell at first."

        "Congratulations on making the team," James said quietly, standing and collecting his cloak from a hook by the fire.

        "Hey, really," Zane said awkwardly. "I'm sorry about how things worked out. I didn't know it was that important to you. Really."

        James stood still for several seconds, staring into the fire. Zane's expression of regret struck him deeply. His heart ached. His face heated and his eyes burned. He blinked and looked away.

        "It wasn't that important to me, really," he said. "It was just really, really important."

        As the door closed behind James, he heard Ralph say, "So who was it important to?"

James walked slowly, his head down. His clothes were still damp, and his body ached from the jolt of Ralph levitating him at the end of his long dive, but he barely noticed those things. He had failed. After the victory of becoming a Gryffindor, he'd been cautiously confident that Quidditch, too, would work out. Instead, he'd ended up looking like a complete fool in front of both the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Far from the spectacular aerobatic displays his dad had legendarily performed, James had to be rescued from killing himself. There was no surviving this kind of failure. He'd never live it down. Nobody was making fun of him now, at least to his face, but what would they say next year when he showed up for tryouts again? He couldn't even bear to think about it.

        How would he tell his dad? His dad, who would be coming at the beginning of next week to see him and hear of his exploits. He'd understand, of course. He'd tell James Quidditch didn't matter, that the important thing was for him to be himself and have fun. And he'd even mean it. And still, knowing that didn't make James feel any better.