Never one for remaining still for long, Edgar waited scarcely a minute before gliding off across the pitch alongside the students, weaving and serpentining between runners in drifting arcs that occasionally carried him directly through someone by accident.

“Excellent posture and efficient footwork, Barrington,” he remarked while floating backwards ahead of the Slytherin for several strides, hands folded neatly behind his back despite the impossible angle of it all. “A competitive spirit is healthy, but publicly threatening peers and potential teammates will not earn any coach or scout’s praises.”

Then he was gone again in a sudden sideways glide, robes trailing soundlessly behind him as he drifted toward the Gryffindor sixth year. Edgar tilted slightly in the air, studying the long hair whipping across the boy’s face.

“Impressive focus, Thanatos-Misra. I can see the blaze behind the eyes.” His head inclined mildly. “But if you cannot see out from them, I do recommend addressing that before introducing Bludgers into the equation.”

Not everyone was destined to become the next Soren Vale, windswept hair and all, but he certainly was not about to be the one to crush ambitions of dramatic flying aesthetics outright.

He pivoted sharply then vanished into a quick corkscrew through the middle of the warm-up pack, reappearing moments later beside one of the more unfortunate looking Gryffindors.

“Your bib is backwards, Miller, and your shoelace is untied.” Edgar eyed the flapping tag with visible disappointment. “Control your feet before attempting to control a broom. Quidditch has very little sympathy for gravity related improvisation.”

With exception ― as they would find out soon enough.

And if the third year still possessed enough breath to perform Motown during cooldowns, he may be in need of further conditioning training.

Off he swept again, passing low enough over the grass that his translucent form briefly disturbed the morning dew without truly touching it. He slowed near the Hufflepuff running alongside Barrington, hovering just overhead this time.

“Mm. Good, Singh-Phora. Players who pay attention to the people around them tend to survive longer on the pitch.”

Helping younger students. Encouraging teammates. Useful instincts — provided they translated into spatial awareness once airborne.

Edgar spun neatly through another lazy corkscrew simply because he could before leveling out beside Melo-Dreamer.
“Confidence is admirable, Melo-Dreamer. Overconfidence is usually educational.”

A bit of thought to chew on as he gilded along the group of aspiring athletes.

“Less chatting, more jogging, Dreamer. Charm alone has historically performed very poorly against Bludgers,” he cautioned the Slytherin as he glidded by.

Then away again — robes fluttering though there was no wind strong enough to account for it — until his attention landed upon the boy sprinting as though chasing the wind itself.

“Oh, eager. Wonderful.” Edgar clasped his hands behind his back once more as he circled Patterson effortlessly through the air. “We shall see if your stamina shares your enthusiasm in approximately ten minutes, Patterson. Quidditch rewards endurance just as often as speed.”

Eventually ― with students flushed, breathing harder, and hopefully a touch looser in the muscles　―　Edgar rose several feet higher above the pitch and slowly rotated in place to address the group as a whole.

“Excellent. Most of you appear marginally more limber and considerably less tense. All in all a successful warm-up.”　He swept one translucent hand toward the broom stands. “Mount your brooms. First years and anyone without their own may collect a school broom from the rack and treat them with respect. Some of those brooms are older than you. A few may even be older than me.”

He drifted higher as students began gathering their brooms.

“We will continue with one or two laps around the pitch at low altitude. And when I say low altitude, I mean your toes should very nearly be grazing the grass beneath you.” A pointed pause followed. “Anyone who climbs excessively high before instructed will be grounded immediately, their tryout concluded before it has truly had the opportunity to show what you can do other than keep a bench warm.”

His smile sharpened slightly and a flick of his wrist dismissed them.

“Control first. Off you go.”