Sam couldn't help but feel a bit jipped, in all honesty. Considering he'd asked first, and had been guaranteed the position he found it outrageous that two last minute people had put their names down. After the tryouts had been announced no less! Still, if it came down to skill he'd have to show it, and if he didn't get in... well, he'd spit the dummy, maybe, try out for Slytherin, just to piss them all off.
He woke up at five, a little earlier than planned, but he was looking forward to the try-outs, and couldn't help but feel a little jittery, this was something he'd been practicing for, for weeks. Putting on his Quidditch robes, the ones he'd bought under the presumption that he'd been accepted onto the team, he went downstairs and had some breakfast, having a delightful chat with Nearly-Headless Nick about cauldron bottoms and how the school's were frightfully inadequate, and eating his french toast.
The time soon arrived for him to head down to the pitch, so, wishing Nick adieu he walked down, seeing a flock of red-robed, bleary-eyed Gryffindors waiting at the pitch. "Morning," he said as he reached them, laughing at the looks on their faces. "Didn't you guys turn in early last night?" he asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world