The matter at hand, was one, he had no idea why he was doing it. The boy was small, he wasn't exactly built for sport, and yet, he found himself in the middle of huge amounts of people. Tall and big. Bigger than him, though that wasn't as hard as it might first appear. Ty had not even decided his reasoning for trying out. In his mind there was nothing more stupid. However with everything in his family, his sole concern was for making his little sister proud. She was now 6 years old, and showing signs of magic. It was for her he had even started to learn to fly. Why he had spent his last week of school in first year, flying and flying and flying. He was still petrified of heights. He was still deathly afraid of falling off his broom, and yet, there he stood, with a school broom in hand waiting for his turn. It was nerve-racking, from what he'd researched about the other Archer he'd never done many sports. Though, Ty could understand why. His eye sight wouldn't be the best. The black and white vision affected hugely by light, and his glasses being a little too big for his face. He wasn't exactly letting things fall into his favour. He had put on his contacts that day. He was hoping for some dark skies, cloudy with only slight light, anything else, and he was in the worlds of his uncle Calvin, f##ked. Simple as. Yet, despite almost every part of him, begging to turn around, that no one had really seen him yet, he could run without anyone knowing he was there he stayed. He had little to lose. He had high hopes of being able to just not fall from the sky. He didn't even care that much if he didn't get in. The point was he could say he tried. He gave it, his absolute best shot. If that didn't work out, then that was the end of it. Which was why once again the question seemed to beg. Why exactly was he trying out. Ty had little to lose, little to gain. He didn't have to. He could keep practicing, try out in the following year. When he was better, when he wasn't so scared of the heights, and when he could land without a possible You've been framed moment. There were so many people there. So many that he knew, well, knew in the terms of, they were in the same house together, and had seen about the place. That was maybe it, but it was more than enough for him. These people he'd have to see over and over. He'd have to face on a close to daily basis. It was bad enough he'd been named in the Rumor Has It magazine as a crybaby in the last year. This was all about him being more Gryffindor, defeating his fears, and being a brother his sister could be proud of.
Before he could even tell what was happening, someone had pushed him forward. He stumbled but managed to prevent himself from face planting in front of the captain. He stopped in front of her and felt like he might just spontaneously combust. Which wouldn't be nice. His eyes flew to the floor, he cleared his throat and then looked up briefly. "T..Tybalt A..Ar..rcher" He managed to say. God, this was a mistake. He took a deep breath, he could do this. "Trying um.. out for um..beater." He had always been alright at baseball and cricket in school. His running abilities matched with his unique ability to sometimes managed to hit the ball with the bat. The young Gryffindor picked up the bat he was supposed to be using, he knew the point of a beater, target the other team, protect your own. Simple. Nothing too complicated, and despite the bludgers, in the young Gryffindor's eyes it was also the least dangerous. He mounted his broom, holding the bat carefully in his left hand, while also clutching the broom with both hands. He gave the captain a small nod to say he was ready, before kicking up off the ground. This he had gotten better at. His overall flying had improved. He was smoother, and he felt more confident in the air, as long as he just didn't spend too much time looking at the ground. As soon as he reached the right altitude the young boy flew towards what he could make out as a bludger making it's way towards the group of chasers, also trying out. He urged the old broom forward, and was just in time to lightly knock the bludger in the other direction. It wasn't a hard knock, so, within seconds it was heading in the new direction towards more flying people, he urged the broom on, tightly gripping the broom, keeping his eyes forward, the bludger was however too slow to hit the people and went behind the crowd of chasers. Ty, was too slow to do anything, but get out the way. It took him a few seconds to see the bludger. His eyesight blurry from the stray tears caused by winds at that height, and the sheer panic he felt. If it had been a real game, he might've cost his team a chaser, or something worse. It wasn't good. He wanted to do better. Give it a better shot, so once again, he urged the broom forward, racing towards the bludger he realised was racing in his direction. He slowed slightly, switching so that his left hand with the bat held tightly in it could attempt to knock it away. At the pivotal moment he swung. Though his swing was too low, hitting the bottom corner of the bludger sending it straight upwards. He had been very seriously kidding himself into thinking he could do this.
The bludger was sent soaring high into the sky. Ty was muttering swears, as he attempted to do something. He really just didn't want to be there, he wanted to fly off into the distance and never actually look back. However, before he could his ears picked up the sounds of the bludger plummeting back towards him. He moved slightly away, tried looking up and was met by a wave of nausea and a blinding white light. Directly up was not a good way for him to be looking, that was for sure. He was suddenly flying almost blind, as his eyes readjust to the slightly less light of just keeping his eyes forward. He played it by ear, waiting till it got louder, then swinging. He knew this would be a shot in a million if he made it, he would be incredibly happy. As well as hopeful that he hadn't done enough to get on the team. Whack! Sent his heart racing, still flying a little blind the boy realised from the pain in his left arm, and the ringing in his head, that he had managed it. What a relief. With that, the young Gryffindor felt he'd done more than enough to prove that he wasn't ready. Well, he felt he wasn't ready. He finally began to see better as he headed to the ground. He stumbled off the broom, with a very ungraceful landing. He whispered his thanks as he passed, before almost breaking into a run off the pitch. That was more than enough for one day. He felt physically sick, his eyes felt irritated, and his left ear was still ringing slightly.
Out of Character: 
