Allow Me to Exaggerate A Memory or Two :: Chapter Two (2/8)
Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight
CHAPTER TWO
n his first day back at school, Spencer learned that, at Hogwarts, half-witted excuses for professors encouraged savage, crazed monsters to attack innocent students. Once he had pushed Pansy Parkinson away in the direction of some other not very interested listener and had had Blaise Zabini give him a more sober account of what had happened in the third-years' first Care of Magical Creatures lesson, however, Spencer came to the conclusion that if Draco Malfoy chose to insult Hippogriffs knowing full well about their viciousness when affronted, he should perhaps not be overly surprised when one of them gave him a scratch for it. And since clean cuts were usually pretty easy to magic together, Spencer was pretty sure that Malfoy was not lying in horrendous pain, almost begging for death to release him (Parkinson again).
Whether it was entirely wise of Professor Hagrid to introduce students to Hippogriffs on their very first lesson was another matter, and Spencer's esteem for Care of Magical Creatures sunk quite a bit from its original low position.
“Oh, no-will he be able to play Quidditch?”
Brendon, arriving late, was being regaled with the story, and Spencer groaned inwardly. Like most things Brendon said, that question could be read two ways: genuinely concerned, if you actually knew Brendon, and fishing for an opportunity to snag the Seeker spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team, if you had the opinion of Brendon that most of the House still had. That he was Slytherin's Heir had been proven wrong at the end of last year, but most people still seemed to take Brendon for a manipulative actor of the highest degree.
“He'll be fine,” Parkinson predictably snapped, distracted from her description of Malfoy at death's door. “He'll be just fine.”
To Spencer's relief, Professor Snape walked in through the door before that argument could get further.
“If I could have your attention for a few moments,” he said, sneering at the sixth-years who were guiltily looking up from their card game in one corner, “I would like to make a few announcements that we did not have time for yesterday. Firstly, for those of you who have not yet been made aware of this, the new prefects are Mr Pucey and Miss May.” He paused to allow for a short applause, then went on, “Professor Vector has asked me to remind last year's students of Arithmancy that the class will be held on the fourth floor this year. We have discovered a Bundimun infestation in parts of the left wing corridor, and the corridor is out of bounds until this has been dealt with. On that subject, the Forbidden Forest is as usual always out of bounds. And,” he added, after a slightly longer pause this time, “we have some new members of staff this year.”
“We have new staff members every year, Professor,” someone said from the back of the crowd, and the older students laughed. Professor Snape glared at them until they stopped.
“I want to take this opportunity, therefore,” he continued, “to remind all of you that if anything worries you about any member of the staff, you should come to me directly.”
“I want you to do something about that monster calling himself a Care of Magical Creatures professor!” Parkinson shouted at once. “Draco was almost killed today by that-”
“Thank you, Miss Parkinson, I-”
“He could have died!” Parkinson insisted, pausing to draw breath. “I want that man sacked!”
Spencer was impressed. Professor Snape favoured Parkinson with the especially foul look reserved for people who interrupted him, and she didn't even blink.
“I will take your opinions into account, Miss Parkinson,” Professor Snape said icily. “I suggest the rest of you follow Miss Parkinson's sterling example and feel free to consult me on anything that makes you feel concerned.” He shot Parkinson another glare and added, “Privately.”
Spencer frowned. It was strange for Professor Snape to be so specific about something and then dismiss Parkinson's valid (if slightly hysterical) complaint out of hand.
Unless, of course, he wanted to build up a sufficient amount of complaints against Hagrid before presenting his case to the Headmaster. By brushing off Parkinson's comment now, he opened the door for other students to come and see him about the new Care of Magical Creatures professor, so that when he went to see the Headmaster about Hagrid, he'd have several tales from the students to back up his argument.
Spencer smiled to himself. Hagrid had been (and still was) Hogwarts’ groundskeeper, after all, and rumour had it that he hadn’t made it past his third year in school. Spencer had a feeling Professor Snape wouldn’t just accept the man’s sudden promotion to professor.
ith his pale face and hair, Draco seemed to disappear against the stark white hospital sheets. He was looking better than Brendon had come to expect from Parkinson's description, however, and the only sign of his accident with the Hippogriff was the neatly bandaged arm resting against the covers. He was sitting up, staring out of the window with a moody air and biting the heads of chocolate frogs.
“Oh, Urie,” he said, spotting Brendon and lighting up a bit. “Do you want a frog? Mother sent two boxes of them, and if I don't watch out I might end up getting tired of them.”
Brendon took the chair next to the bed, placing his box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans with the rest of the sweets on Draco's night stand and accepting a chocolate frog gingerly. “Are you all right?” he asked. Draco shrugged.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “But you know how it is-cut muscles like mine could turn nasty. Father thought it was best to be on the safe side.” He waved his bandaged arm, and Brendon experienced a swooping sensation in his stomach. He could only imagine what it felt like, to have an arm cut open the way Draco had. And he knew that Madam Pomfrey was a good medical witch, but how could they be sure it would heal properly?
“You look a bit ill yourself,” Draco said, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe you should join me here. That wouldn't be a bad idea, actually. It's getting a bit dull.”
Brendon shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “It must have been really scary.”
Something passed over Draco's face and disappeared again, leaving only something hard around his mouth. “No, it was just a stupid animal,” he said shortly. “Anyway, I'm bored talking about it. Talk about something funnier.”
“Oh, right,” Brendon said quickly. “So are you looking forward to the Quidditch season?”
He could have kicked himself as soon as he said it-maybe it would upset Draco, thinking about flying now that his arm was hurt-but Draco only snorted and shrugged.
“It's not as though there's a competition for the cup this year,” he said. “Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw aren't even in the running, and we would have beat Gryffindor last year if Potter hadn't had his freakish good luck.” He spat the last words out, and Brendon remembered uncomfortably how unlucky Draco had been in the match against Gryffindor the year before, having the Snitch almost behind his ear and not seeing it.
“Still,” Draco continued, “It's going to be fun having the try-outs. We need a new Keeper, and I have no idea where we're going to get one.”
“Oh yeah,” Brendon said happily, “I can't wait for it. It's going to be great getting to fly with everyone.”
“Right, you're trying out,” Draco said, looking at him thoughtfully. Brendon blushed.
“Yeah, not because I'm expecting to get in or anything,” he said quickly, painfully aware that all three of last year's Chasers we're still at school and, presumably, still interested in playing. “But I thought it would be fun.”
“The team could always use new talent,” Draco said in an off-hand sort of way. “It would depend on how well you could cooperate with others, of course, but it's worth trying out.”
“You think so?” Brendon grinned.
“Sure, why not.” Draco smiled at him suddenly. “So are you going to help me eat these chocolate frogs or what?”
Brendon laughed, feeling the tension drain from him. He'd been prepared to find Draco in a much worse state, and instead Draco was sitting up and joking. It was a much more pleasant picture to take away.
“Only if you take a Bean and eat it without checking what it is,” he said and laughed again at Draco's scandalised expression.
he Ravenclaw common room was buzzing with activity-friends catching up on what had happened during the summer, various groups and organisations starting up again and students getting an early start on the year's school work. Jon and Luna were filling out a spare Astronomy chart, sharing the table with a few fifth-years talking about fanged Geraniums. Luna had found a bird in the stars one night over the summer, and she was now trying to reconstruct it for Jon.
Although he was concentrating on the star chart, Jon had noticed that Chang seemed to be going around to all the tables and asking students something. He didn't give it much thought, until she stopped by his table and pointed a triumphant finger at him.
“You!” she said.
I didn't do it was on the tip of Jon's tongue (growing up in a household with three boys had given him a reflex of immediate denial), but he swallowed it and settled for, “What?”
“You're good on a broom,” Chang said, holding out a list. “Don't you want to sign up for Quidditch try-outs? This Sunday, since Slytherin's weaselled their way into having the pitch all Saturday,” she added darkly.
Jon shrugged. “I hadn't thought about it,” he said. Brendon and Ginny were both Quidditch nerds, but Jon hadn't really got into it yet. It was a strange sport to watch when you were used to watching football. There were such a lot of different players and balls to keep track of, and he hadn't made sense of the scoring system yet, either.
Still, he liked to fly.
“I guess I could give it a go,” he said, then turned to Luna. “Do you want to try out?”
He saw Chang's slight wince out of the corner of his eye and pointedly ignored it.
“Oh, yes, I would love to,” Luna said enthusiastically. “It seems like a lot of fun. Should I try for Seeker, do you think?”
“We already have a Seeker,” Chang said quickly. Luna looked a bit disappointed, but shrugged.
“Maybe I could try Beating,” she mused. “I always thought it seemed like an interesting way to apply knowledge of angles and force.”
Chang nodded doubtfully, giving Jon the sign-up sheet. She made as though to take it back once he'd signed, but he passed it over to Luna firmly.
“We'll see you Sunday, then,” he said.
He wasn't sure, though. He tended not to like people who openly showed it when they thought Luna was being weird, and if the rest of the team was like Chang, he wasn't at all sure he'd fit in.
pencer was spending the first weekend back at school huddled in the Quidditch stands, watching people zooming about on brooms. And it made perfect sense in a Murphy-hates-me sort of way that it should be the first truly cold day, too.
Even so, he was glad he'd come, and he watched, amazed, as his House mates swerved and ducked and dove all over the pitch. He'd always known Brendon was good on a broom, of course, but watching him beside Warrington and Montague, last year's Chasers along with captain Flint, Spencer realised that Brendon had the potential to be really, really good. He couldn't throw the Quaffle as far as most other applicants for Chaser, but his passes were accurate, and although he couldn't match Montague for speed, he was still among the very quickest. And what he lacked in throwing strength he made up for in energy, darting this way and that, staying active all the time and seeking new openings. Out of the other students trying out for Chaser, the only one as good as Brendon or the Chasers from earlier years was Vaisey in Year Four, who had a long throw like nothing Spencer had ever seen before-in his limited experience, of course-and who scored several goals from nearly half the pitch away.
“Bole's sister is actually not bad,” Malfoy said, nodding at the girl just then taking a swing at a Bludger and hitting it with a satisfying crack. “The rest of the girls are terrible, though.”
As are most of the boys, Spencer thought, watching Harper swing wildly at a Bludger and miss. He didn't voice the thought out loud, however. His and Malfoy's tentative friendship worked a lot better if Spencer kept his criticisms to himself.
The Bludger Harper had failed to steer off headed straight for Brendon, who was pelting up the pitch, the Quaffle under one arm. Spencer suppressed a gasp as Brendon rolled in the air, narrowly avoiding the Bludger before straightening up and putting the Quaffle past the surprised Urquhart. He'd seen the same move before in Quidditch matches, but it was somehow scarier when it was Brendon doing it.
Flint, who had been flying around bellowing instructions, chose this moment to turn around and look at Malfoy, raising his eyebrows. Of course, Spencer thought, Malfoy's team captain could hardly have missed the fight between him and Brendon last year. He glanced quickly sideways at Malfoy, and saw him give a short nod. Flint turned back to the game and blew his whistle.
“All right,” he shouted, “thank you, that's enough. If you could all just gather round-don't worry, Hooch will handle the Bludgers-stop twitching, Simmons, she'll have them locked down in a minute. Well, just keep an eye out and prepare to duck. Right! Some of you have displayed the qualities we're looking for, and some of you have bat work that's going to give me nightmares. I'd like the following players to join me-Warrington! Montague!”
Brendon's face fell, and Spencer clenched his jaw. So that was what that nod had meant.
“Urie!”
Brendon's head jerked up again, and he grinned hugely as he flew forward to join the other two Chasers. Spencer was just wondering if this meant that Flint was stepping down as Chaser when Vaisey's name, too, was called. Next was Urquhart, then Derrick and then Bole and, just as the two siblings looked ready to ask for clarification, Bole again.
“Finally,” Flint said, “although he couldn't fly today because of his injury, Malfoy is continuing as Seeker. The rest of you, thanks, but we won't be asking you to join us this year.”
The dejected students who hadn't made the cut headed off, and Flint motioned the chosen team closer.
“We're going to be working with a couple of different line-ups this year,” he said. “We'll be using the coming four practises to work out combinations that work. You're not reserves, any of you. You're all part of the team, but you're going to have different roles. Right, that will be all for today, but remember first practise is on Tuesday evening at six. Now sod off.”
There was some nervous laughter among the newest members of the team, while the older ones responded with variations on “up yours, too” or, in Derrick's case, a series of hand gestures Spencer didn't entirely understand the meaning of but which nevertheless gave off an impression of being extremely rude. As they all started to head off to the changing rooms together, Brendon turned on his broom and gave Spencer a happy thumbs-up.
“I'm sure he'll be an asset,” Malfoy said, and Spencer hated the sudden urge he had to thank Malfoy for letting Brendon into the team.
“He's very good,” he settled for.
“Sure,” Malfoy said nonchalantly. “Let's just hope he's a team player, right?”
Spencer said nothing. It was at moments like these that Malfoy's upbringing really disgusted him. That Brendon had the threat of being thrown out if he overstepped the line towards Malfoy hanging over him was quite clear enough already. There was no need to spell it out so crudely.
He rose. “Looks like rain,” he said. “I'm heading back. Do you want me to carry your backpack?” he added quickly, as Malfoy opened his mouth. “It might be a bit much, with your arm.”
Malfoy glared at him, annoyed no doubt at having been forestalled. “I can manage quite well, thanks,” he said, picking up his backpack with a sneer and turning to lead the way back to the castle.
t was Ryan and Jon's first Polyjuice switch of the new school year. The Gryffindors had double Transfiguration after lunch on Wednesdays which Jon wanted to go to, and Ryan had agreed to swap places with him for the duration of the class. He had time for a single Herbology class and then some study time in the Ravenclaw tower during the same time period.
He had brewed the Polyjuice Potion over the summer holidays in his own corner of his mother's home lab, keeping up a regular correspondence with Jon to see that he was on the right track. He'd been nervous, testing it for the first time-he happily conceded supremacy in the art of potion brewing to Jon-but they'd had a trial run one afternoon when neither of them had classes, and the Potion seemed to work just as well as last year. Today's first test of the effects on their class mates hadn't disappointed, either. Herbology had been fun, and he'd been pleased to realise he'd become good enough at playing the part of Jon that Spencer hadn't even seemed suspicious during the time they worked together. In fact, Ryan hadn't had time to inform Brendon that he and Jon were switching for the afternoon, and he felt like even Brendon had fallen for the act today.
Then again, Brendon had seemed distracted in general this afternoon. Probably thinking about Quidditch, Ryan thought, trying to ignore the small sting that came with the realisation. Maybe Brendon wouldn't have time to fly as often now that he would have Quidditch practise all the time.
“What are you thinking about, Walker?” Mason asked, and Ryan blinked.
“Quidditch,” he said without thinking.
“Oh, yeah, you tried out this weekend, right?” Gamp asked, leaning forward across the table and grinning. “What was it like?”
Ryan shrugged. He hadn't exactly asked Jon for details. “Fun,” he hazarded.
“So are you going to join the Quidditch team?” Mason asked.
Ryan froze, trying to remember if Jon had said anything about a preference one way or the other. “I'm not entirely sure yet,” he settled for eventually, deciding on the safest answer.
On the other side of the table, Kevin Entwhistle from Year Three was giving him an appraising look. “You know, if you're just in it for the flying, you should check out orienteering sometime,” he said.
Gamp shone up. “Oh, yeah, that'd be great,” she said. “I'm starting it this year, too.”
“Orienteering?” Ryan asked, confused.
“Yeah, haven't you ever heard about it before?” Entwhistle asked, and when Ryan shook his head added, “Oh, right, Muggleborn.”
Ryan stopped himself from pointing out that you didn't have to be Muggleborn to be ignorant of sports.
“Orienteering is basically like flying a course, only it's done over the entire Hogwarts grounds. You get a map and a location for your first stopping point, and after that you have to work out the other locations by solving problems. When you've managed your task, you get a new location to find. But you know what?” Entwhistle tore off the end of his roll of parchment and scribbled something on it, then handed it to Ryan. It said Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff fifth-year. “You should talk to this guy. He's sort of the leader of the orienteering.”
“Diggory?” Ryan frowned. “Isn't he already the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain?”
Entwhistle nodded, grinning. “Yes, but he still does orienteering. He's a bit of a flying nerd. Anyway, you should talk to him if you're interested. He can explain it better than I can. I've only been doing it for a year. It's a lot of fun, though.”
“It's great,” Gamp agreed. “I went to watch sometimes last year, and it looks like so much fun. I can't wait until we get to do join.”
“Why haven't you invited me, then?” Mason asked. Gamp rolled her eyes at him, but fondly.
“Because you couldn't fly to save your life if you were being chased by a Peruvian Vipertooth,” she told him.
on hurried into the library, spotted Spencer and waved, grinning.
“Sorry,” he said, sliding into his place across the table. “I got caught up in something.” Ryan had been late for their check-point, having been caught up in an interesting discussion in the Ravenclaw tower, and Jon had spent a fidgety quarter of an hour waiting for him to show up so they could change robes.
“No problem,” Spencer said distractedly. He was immersed in a Charms book, but while Jon got all his books onto the table, he appeared to finish whatever riveting passage he'd been reading and looked up. “Was it about Quidditch?”
“Huh?”
“You tried out this Sunday, right?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I did.” Jon rallied. “That's right.”
“Did you get in?”
“Yeah, they want me for Keeper,” Jon said. Spencer looked at him, curiously.
“So are you going to join?” he asked.
Jon shrugged. “Still not really sure,” he said. “It would be fun, I guess. I like some of the others on the team. And it would be fun to still have a reason to fly, now that we're not having any more flying lessons with Madam Hooch.”
Spencer raised his eyebrows, and Jon grinned. Spencer wasn't a big fan of flying in general.
“I guess I could always join the orienteering, but I don't really think I'd like it,” he said, recalling what Ryan had talked about when they changed back.
“Orienteering?” Spencer said.
“Yeah, you know-you fly a sort of course, and-”
Spencer waved this away. “No, I know what it is. My cousin does orienteering twice a week-he's always been a bit weird like that. I didn't know there was a club at Hogwarts, though.”
“Oh, yeah, it's being run by Cedric Diggory. You know, that Hufflepuff from the train. I think I'm going to tell Luna about it.”
“Really?” Spencer raised his eyebrows, grinning.
Jon laughed. “Yeah, I'm not sure she'd be any good. We had a navigation exercise with Madam Hooch at the end of last year, and Luna just disappeared. She was supposed to fly to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and back, but she never came back. Madam Hooch was trying to be jovial about it, but you could see she was really worried. Anyway, finally we went to look for her, and she was sitting in a tree watching a nest of Bowtruckles.”
“I'm not really surprised.”
Jon shook his head in agreement. “I think Madam Hooch is grateful that our class isn't doing Flying any more. Luna was never good at remembering what she was supposed to be doing. She likes it, though.” Jon leaned back in his chair and prodded Spencer's leg with his foot. “Maybe you could join orienteering? Or you could try out for Quidditch, that'd be great, too.”
“Over my dismembered body,” Spencer said calmly. “Speaking of which, I want to pick your brains about Defence Against the Dark Arts.”
Jon winced. “Did Professor Lupin do that demonstration with your class, too?”
Spencer blinked, then nodded and gave a mock shudder. “Yes, he did. But I have to admit, it made me want to get a really good grip on Shield Charms.” He paused, then said, “So you have seen the dispersement demonstration?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh, I don't know.” Spencer shrugged. “You just sounded so vague when we talked about it before.”
Before had probably been in Herbology. Jon laughed, not missing a beat.
“Sorry, my head was all over the place in Herbology,” he said. “I can't believe we're finally getting to work in Greenhouse Three. Anyway, what did you want to talk about? About Defence Against the Dark Arts, I mean?”
Spencer's confused expression cleared, and he reached behind him to bring out a scroll of parchment from his bag.
“I have a lot of thoughts,” he warned. “OK, so firstly, what do you think about protego totalum and close-combat uses? And secondly...” He looked up from his notes and grinned at Jon. “Wasn't that demonstration the grossest thing you'd ever seen?”
he Common Room was full to bursting. The weather was terrible, with harsh winds and pouring rain. With the outdoors thus unwelcoming, almost the entire House had opted for the Common Room this Saturday, and the noise level had been rising steadily since ten. Ryan had for some time contemplated escaping to the Library, but his corner of the room was deliciously warm right now, and it was very difficult to persuade himself to exchange it for the raw chill between the Library's bookshelves. Besides, Ginny was in the Library doing her Transfigurations project with Melanie Oates and Olivia Chung, and Ryan knew that if he went there she'd feel obliged to invite him to sit with them, even though she actually wanted to work alone with the girls.
“Hello, Ryan,” someone said, and when he looked up he saw Parvati Patil smiling carefully at him. “Can I share your table? All the others are taken.”
Ryan looked behind her, but when he couldn't see Lavender anywhere he nodded. Parvati was a lot easier to talk to when Lavender wasn't around-she was somewhat quieter, and didn't giggle as much. (Just as Lavender without Parvati by her side wasn't as brittle in her self-chosen role of social savant. Still giggly though.)
Parvati sank gratefully into a chair and started to unload books from her bag. Ryan tried to concentrate on his History of Magic questions, but his eye was caught by titles such as Cards on the Table: a Beginner's Guide to Tarot and Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself against Shocks.
“Is that for Divination?” he asked at last, nodding at the books. “How is it?”
Parvati looked uncertain for a moment, then smiled. “It's kind of cool,” she said. “I mean, it-it feels kind of right.” She hesitated, then went on, “But I don't know... I don't think she's very good. Professor Trelawney. I mean, she said all this stuff at our first lesson, things that were going to happen. And it was really impressive, but I feel like-I don't think it works like that. She does this, too,” Parvati assumed a slightly cross-eyed, heavy-lidded look with a ridiculous twist to the mouth, “whenever she looks in our tea leaves or things. And I think you really just have to do this.” There was no visible change in Parvati's expression, but her eyes looked a bit like Luna's did, sometimes-like they were focused on something Ryan couldn't see. “At least, when I do that I think I can see a bit of what the book is talking about. It's always just vague, but I think that's what it's actually about. Shadows. I think it's too hard to see real stuff, what's really going to happen.”
She stopped and shrugged, suddenly and forcefully. “But I don't know. Lavender always says she sees all kinds of things, really clearly.”
There was the merest hint of disapproval in her voice. It was the closest Ryan had ever heard her come to disagreeing with Lavender.
“So are you going to give it up, then?” he asked. “Divination?”
Parvati looked at him, then grinned. “No, it's still worth it, you know? I think I could study it on my own as easily, but then I'd have to buy the tea.” She grinned again, cheekily, then offered the book to him. “Do you want to see what I'm doing?”
Ryan's History of Magic homework was quickly forgotten.
h, hey! Jon!”
Jon turned, grinning as he recognised Cedric Diggory running towards him.
“Hey,” he said. “How are you?”
“Good, it's great,” Cedric said, coming to a stop beside him. “Lot to do. But it's good. Look, Entwhistle told me you were interested in orienteering.”
“Oh,” Jon said. “Right.”
“Yeah, and I just wanted to tell you-we're moving up the first orienteering meeting, so it's this Wednesday instead of next week. I've just been posting notices in the Common Rooms, but when I saw you I thought I'd tell you, as well.”
“Thanks,” Jon said awkwardly, “but actually, I don't think I'll join this year after all. I mean, it sounds great, but the Ravenclaw Quidditch team offered me Keeper, and I just decided to take it. Sorry.”
He was expecting Cedric to look disappointed or annoyed, but Cedric only laughed. “Good, so we'll get to fly against each other one way or another,” he said. “I understand. It's tough enough doing one sport at a time. Maybe we'll see you another year?”
“Possibly,” Jon said, grinning back.
“Right, I have to run,” Cedric said. “I'll see you around!”
“See you,” Jon said. Then, as Cedric was already on his way down the corridor, remembered Ryan. “Wait, forgot to tell you,” he called. “My friend Ryan Ross, from Gryffindor, he's interested in joining. I'll tell him about the changed time.”
“Great!” Cedric turned and gave him a thumbs up. “We'll take care of him, don't worry.”
anting to be on the safe side, Ryan had left for his first orienteering meeting half an hour before it was supposed to start-the passage through Hogwarts' corridors was never straightforward, and he wasn't going to be late because some staircase was in a sulky mood-and he arrived much too early. There were two other students waiting in front of the greenhouses who Ryan thought were in year four or five and possibly Hufflepuff, but he wasn't sure if they were there for orienteering or not and spent half a minute in an agony of indecision, trying to make up his mind whether to talk to them or not. He was saved from having to decide by Gamp, who showed up carrying her broom over one shoulder and grinning at the world in general.
“Gamp!” Ryan said, relieved to see a familiar face. She blinked and frowned at him.
“Um,” she said. “Ross?”
Ryan could have kicked himself. He never usually made this kind of mistake any more. “Yeah,” he said, inventing quickly, “Jon said you'd be doing orienteering, too. Told me to speak to you.” There; that could have been a lot worse.
“Jon?” Gamp said, not looking very much the wiser.
“Jonathan Walker,” Ryan explained, mentally giving himself another kick. But Gamp finally lit up in understanding.
“Right, Walker,” she said. “He didn't want to join, too, then?”
“No, it was Quidditch for him,” Ryan said, giving her a shrug. “But he told me about this and I thought it sounded fun, so I decided to join instead.”
“Good choice. It's really great.” She grinned at him, and he smiled back. He liked Gamp. She was fun without being very loud, and a first-class Astronomer in the making.
Entwhistle joined them shortly after, and Gamp introduced him to Ryan, who fought down a laugh. Even after almost a year of switching between his face and Jon's, it was still weird to have to be introduced to people he knew already.
While they waited for everyone to arrive, Entwhistle told them stories from last year's orienteering meetings, and as students started to appear one after the other he waved some over and introduced them. Ryan thought he recognised people from just about every year apart from Year One, although house-wise, the orienteering club was almost entirely confined to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. As far as Ryan could tell, he was the only Gryffindor there, and there were only two students he recognised as Slytherin.
There were calls of welcome at one end of the group, and Ryan looked over to see that the fifth-year Jon had pointed out as Cedric Diggory was walking up with Professor Flitwick, broom in one hand and a basket with scrolls of parchment in the other.
“Hello, everyone, and welcome back!” he called. “Hope you've all had a very good summer and that you are ready for the new year. If you could just pass the maps around and take one each...”
He handed the basket to the closest student, who rummaged among the scrolls and took one, then handed the basket to the girl next to him.
“Today's theme is Charms,” Diggory said. “Professor Flitwick will be supervising, which, unfortunately, doesn't necessarily mean he will also be assisting. He asked me to tell you at this point that his favourite sweets are Fizzing Whizzbees-I don't really know why...” Entwhistle laughed, and Ryan saw several other students grin or make faces. It was weird-the atmosphere here was more like the celebrations after a Quidditch win than the anticipation before the game.
The basket passed him, and he was about to take a scroll and pass it on when Entwhistle stopped him, showing him that each map was marked with a year. He took one marked Year Three and gave one marked Year Two to Ryan with a grin, then passed the basket on.
“But before we start,” Diggory went on, “there are a couple of new faces. If you could just introduce yourself quickly, name and house.” He looked at Ryan, who swallowed.
“Hi,” he said. “I'm Ryan Ross, in Gryffindor. Year Two.”
People started clapping, and he shut his mouth so quickly he only narrowly avoided biting his tongue. One or two students waved at him, and two chorused “Hello, Ryan Ross” in drawn-out, lilting tones. He blushed furiously, wondering if he'd said something stupid, but when the same treatment was repeated for the rest of the new members, he realised that they were merely being welcoming.
Diggory grinned. “OK, everyone else will have to wait to introduce themselves until afterwards if we're going to get anywhere today. Has everyone got a map?” There were nods and affirmative murmurs among the students. “Everyone's map shows a location? That is, do you see a green point somewhere on your map?” he added, looking over towards Ryan and the other new-comers. Ryan indicated that this was so. “Great! Then, everyone, mount your brooms. Professor, if you'd do the honours...”
Professor Flitwick cleared his throat, pulled out a pocket watch and peered at it. “On your marks,” he squeaked. “Get set... Go!”
The students kicked off as one and scattered. Ryan saw a few flying side by side for a while, laughing and calling out challenging phrases, but eventually everyone diverged onto their own paths. Ryan checked his map again, measuring off against his compass. His location was by the south edge of the lake and, by his estimation, not far from the boats they had used to sail over the lake on their first night at Hogwarts. In fact, as he got closer, he saw that the point he was looking for-a silvery orb hanging in mid-air-was in fact right next to where the boats were anchored. He landed softly, stepped up to the orb and, feeling slightly awkward, tapped it with his wand.
Nothing happened.
He stared at the orb, then at his wand, and then finally, at a loss, at his map. He blinked. The map had changed, becoming a set of instructions.
Swans get airborne by running on water, but we mustn't run before we can sail. To find your next location, you must start over water, at least twenty feet from the shore. (Remember, as always, to leave the grounds in the same state as they were when you arrived.)
Ryan frowned, confused. No one had told him there would be riddles.
A gust of wind made a rope of some kind snap in the rigging on the closest boat, and Ryan grinned to himself, realising. Right. This was easy.
They'd spent two weeks doing introductory weather charms with some Irish witch Flitwick brought in last year, and although Ryan was aware that true weather charming was an extremely difficult business, he remembered enough to charm some wind into the sails of one of the smaller boats. A simple Locomotion Charm should then be enough to get the boat back to shore, once he was no longer concerned about keeping the boat steady.
Ryan became aware that he was still grinning as he settled back in his boat and worked the sail into what he thought was a better position, coasting along on the light breeze he had conjured up. Orienteering was turning out to be just as great as he had hoped.
Next chapter
CHAPTER TWO
n his first day back at school, Spencer learned that, at Hogwarts, half-witted excuses for professors encouraged savage, crazed monsters to attack innocent students. Once he had pushed Pansy Parkinson away in the direction of some other not very interested listener and had had Blaise Zabini give him a more sober account of what had happened in the third-years' first Care of Magical Creatures lesson, however, Spencer came to the conclusion that if Draco Malfoy chose to insult Hippogriffs knowing full well about their viciousness when affronted, he should perhaps not be overly surprised when one of them gave him a scratch for it. And since clean cuts were usually pretty easy to magic together, Spencer was pretty sure that Malfoy was not lying in horrendous pain, almost begging for death to release him (Parkinson again).
Whether it was entirely wise of Professor Hagrid to introduce students to Hippogriffs on their very first lesson was another matter, and Spencer's esteem for Care of Magical Creatures sunk quite a bit from its original low position.
“Oh, no-will he be able to play Quidditch?”
Brendon, arriving late, was being regaled with the story, and Spencer groaned inwardly. Like most things Brendon said, that question could be read two ways: genuinely concerned, if you actually knew Brendon, and fishing for an opportunity to snag the Seeker spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team, if you had the opinion of Brendon that most of the House still had. That he was Slytherin's Heir had been proven wrong at the end of last year, but most people still seemed to take Brendon for a manipulative actor of the highest degree.
“He'll be fine,” Parkinson predictably snapped, distracted from her description of Malfoy at death's door. “He'll be just fine.”
To Spencer's relief, Professor Snape walked in through the door before that argument could get further.
“If I could have your attention for a few moments,” he said, sneering at the sixth-years who were guiltily looking up from their card game in one corner, “I would like to make a few announcements that we did not have time for yesterday. Firstly, for those of you who have not yet been made aware of this, the new prefects are Mr Pucey and Miss May.” He paused to allow for a short applause, then went on, “Professor Vector has asked me to remind last year's students of Arithmancy that the class will be held on the fourth floor this year. We have discovered a Bundimun infestation in parts of the left wing corridor, and the corridor is out of bounds until this has been dealt with. On that subject, the Forbidden Forest is as usual always out of bounds. And,” he added, after a slightly longer pause this time, “we have some new members of staff this year.”
“We have new staff members every year, Professor,” someone said from the back of the crowd, and the older students laughed. Professor Snape glared at them until they stopped.
“I want to take this opportunity, therefore,” he continued, “to remind all of you that if anything worries you about any member of the staff, you should come to me directly.”
“I want you to do something about that monster calling himself a Care of Magical Creatures professor!” Parkinson shouted at once. “Draco was almost killed today by that-”
“Thank you, Miss Parkinson, I-”
“He could have died!” Parkinson insisted, pausing to draw breath. “I want that man sacked!”
Spencer was impressed. Professor Snape favoured Parkinson with the especially foul look reserved for people who interrupted him, and she didn't even blink.
“I will take your opinions into account, Miss Parkinson,” Professor Snape said icily. “I suggest the rest of you follow Miss Parkinson's sterling example and feel free to consult me on anything that makes you feel concerned.” He shot Parkinson another glare and added, “Privately.”
Spencer frowned. It was strange for Professor Snape to be so specific about something and then dismiss Parkinson's valid (if slightly hysterical) complaint out of hand.
Unless, of course, he wanted to build up a sufficient amount of complaints against Hagrid before presenting his case to the Headmaster. By brushing off Parkinson's comment now, he opened the door for other students to come and see him about the new Care of Magical Creatures professor, so that when he went to see the Headmaster about Hagrid, he'd have several tales from the students to back up his argument.
Spencer smiled to himself. Hagrid had been (and still was) Hogwarts’ groundskeeper, after all, and rumour had it that he hadn’t made it past his third year in school. Spencer had a feeling Professor Snape wouldn’t just accept the man’s sudden promotion to professor.
ith his pale face and hair, Draco seemed to disappear against the stark white hospital sheets. He was looking better than Brendon had come to expect from Parkinson's description, however, and the only sign of his accident with the Hippogriff was the neatly bandaged arm resting against the covers. He was sitting up, staring out of the window with a moody air and biting the heads of chocolate frogs.
“Oh, Urie,” he said, spotting Brendon and lighting up a bit. “Do you want a frog? Mother sent two boxes of them, and if I don't watch out I might end up getting tired of them.”
Brendon took the chair next to the bed, placing his box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans with the rest of the sweets on Draco's night stand and accepting a chocolate frog gingerly. “Are you all right?” he asked. Draco shrugged.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “But you know how it is-cut muscles like mine could turn nasty. Father thought it was best to be on the safe side.” He waved his bandaged arm, and Brendon experienced a swooping sensation in his stomach. He could only imagine what it felt like, to have an arm cut open the way Draco had. And he knew that Madam Pomfrey was a good medical witch, but how could they be sure it would heal properly?
“You look a bit ill yourself,” Draco said, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe you should join me here. That wouldn't be a bad idea, actually. It's getting a bit dull.”
Brendon shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “It must have been really scary.”
Something passed over Draco's face and disappeared again, leaving only something hard around his mouth. “No, it was just a stupid animal,” he said shortly. “Anyway, I'm bored talking about it. Talk about something funnier.”
“Oh, right,” Brendon said quickly. “So are you looking forward to the Quidditch season?”
He could have kicked himself as soon as he said it-maybe it would upset Draco, thinking about flying now that his arm was hurt-but Draco only snorted and shrugged.
“It's not as though there's a competition for the cup this year,” he said. “Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw aren't even in the running, and we would have beat Gryffindor last year if Potter hadn't had his freakish good luck.” He spat the last words out, and Brendon remembered uncomfortably how unlucky Draco had been in the match against Gryffindor the year before, having the Snitch almost behind his ear and not seeing it.
“Still,” Draco continued, “It's going to be fun having the try-outs. We need a new Keeper, and I have no idea where we're going to get one.”
“Oh yeah,” Brendon said happily, “I can't wait for it. It's going to be great getting to fly with everyone.”
“Right, you're trying out,” Draco said, looking at him thoughtfully. Brendon blushed.
“Yeah, not because I'm expecting to get in or anything,” he said quickly, painfully aware that all three of last year's Chasers we're still at school and, presumably, still interested in playing. “But I thought it would be fun.”
“The team could always use new talent,” Draco said in an off-hand sort of way. “It would depend on how well you could cooperate with others, of course, but it's worth trying out.”
“You think so?” Brendon grinned.
“Sure, why not.” Draco smiled at him suddenly. “So are you going to help me eat these chocolate frogs or what?”
Brendon laughed, feeling the tension drain from him. He'd been prepared to find Draco in a much worse state, and instead Draco was sitting up and joking. It was a much more pleasant picture to take away.
“Only if you take a Bean and eat it without checking what it is,” he said and laughed again at Draco's scandalised expression.
he Ravenclaw common room was buzzing with activity-friends catching up on what had happened during the summer, various groups and organisations starting up again and students getting an early start on the year's school work. Jon and Luna were filling out a spare Astronomy chart, sharing the table with a few fifth-years talking about fanged Geraniums. Luna had found a bird in the stars one night over the summer, and she was now trying to reconstruct it for Jon.
Although he was concentrating on the star chart, Jon had noticed that Chang seemed to be going around to all the tables and asking students something. He didn't give it much thought, until she stopped by his table and pointed a triumphant finger at him.
“You!” she said.
I didn't do it was on the tip of Jon's tongue (growing up in a household with three boys had given him a reflex of immediate denial), but he swallowed it and settled for, “What?”
“You're good on a broom,” Chang said, holding out a list. “Don't you want to sign up for Quidditch try-outs? This Sunday, since Slytherin's weaselled their way into having the pitch all Saturday,” she added darkly.
Jon shrugged. “I hadn't thought about it,” he said. Brendon and Ginny were both Quidditch nerds, but Jon hadn't really got into it yet. It was a strange sport to watch when you were used to watching football. There were such a lot of different players and balls to keep track of, and he hadn't made sense of the scoring system yet, either.
Still, he liked to fly.
“I guess I could give it a go,” he said, then turned to Luna. “Do you want to try out?”
He saw Chang's slight wince out of the corner of his eye and pointedly ignored it.
“Oh, yes, I would love to,” Luna said enthusiastically. “It seems like a lot of fun. Should I try for Seeker, do you think?”
“We already have a Seeker,” Chang said quickly. Luna looked a bit disappointed, but shrugged.
“Maybe I could try Beating,” she mused. “I always thought it seemed like an interesting way to apply knowledge of angles and force.”
Chang nodded doubtfully, giving Jon the sign-up sheet. She made as though to take it back once he'd signed, but he passed it over to Luna firmly.
“We'll see you Sunday, then,” he said.
He wasn't sure, though. He tended not to like people who openly showed it when they thought Luna was being weird, and if the rest of the team was like Chang, he wasn't at all sure he'd fit in.
pencer was spending the first weekend back at school huddled in the Quidditch stands, watching people zooming about on brooms. And it made perfect sense in a Murphy-hates-me sort of way that it should be the first truly cold day, too.
Even so, he was glad he'd come, and he watched, amazed, as his House mates swerved and ducked and dove all over the pitch. He'd always known Brendon was good on a broom, of course, but watching him beside Warrington and Montague, last year's Chasers along with captain Flint, Spencer realised that Brendon had the potential to be really, really good. He couldn't throw the Quaffle as far as most other applicants for Chaser, but his passes were accurate, and although he couldn't match Montague for speed, he was still among the very quickest. And what he lacked in throwing strength he made up for in energy, darting this way and that, staying active all the time and seeking new openings. Out of the other students trying out for Chaser, the only one as good as Brendon or the Chasers from earlier years was Vaisey in Year Four, who had a long throw like nothing Spencer had ever seen before-in his limited experience, of course-and who scored several goals from nearly half the pitch away.
“Bole's sister is actually not bad,” Malfoy said, nodding at the girl just then taking a swing at a Bludger and hitting it with a satisfying crack. “The rest of the girls are terrible, though.”
As are most of the boys, Spencer thought, watching Harper swing wildly at a Bludger and miss. He didn't voice the thought out loud, however. His and Malfoy's tentative friendship worked a lot better if Spencer kept his criticisms to himself.
The Bludger Harper had failed to steer off headed straight for Brendon, who was pelting up the pitch, the Quaffle under one arm. Spencer suppressed a gasp as Brendon rolled in the air, narrowly avoiding the Bludger before straightening up and putting the Quaffle past the surprised Urquhart. He'd seen the same move before in Quidditch matches, but it was somehow scarier when it was Brendon doing it.
Flint, who had been flying around bellowing instructions, chose this moment to turn around and look at Malfoy, raising his eyebrows. Of course, Spencer thought, Malfoy's team captain could hardly have missed the fight between him and Brendon last year. He glanced quickly sideways at Malfoy, and saw him give a short nod. Flint turned back to the game and blew his whistle.
“All right,” he shouted, “thank you, that's enough. If you could all just gather round-don't worry, Hooch will handle the Bludgers-stop twitching, Simmons, she'll have them locked down in a minute. Well, just keep an eye out and prepare to duck. Right! Some of you have displayed the qualities we're looking for, and some of you have bat work that's going to give me nightmares. I'd like the following players to join me-Warrington! Montague!”
Brendon's face fell, and Spencer clenched his jaw. So that was what that nod had meant.
“Urie!”
Brendon's head jerked up again, and he grinned hugely as he flew forward to join the other two Chasers. Spencer was just wondering if this meant that Flint was stepping down as Chaser when Vaisey's name, too, was called. Next was Urquhart, then Derrick and then Bole and, just as the two siblings looked ready to ask for clarification, Bole again.
“Finally,” Flint said, “although he couldn't fly today because of his injury, Malfoy is continuing as Seeker. The rest of you, thanks, but we won't be asking you to join us this year.”
The dejected students who hadn't made the cut headed off, and Flint motioned the chosen team closer.
“We're going to be working with a couple of different line-ups this year,” he said. “We'll be using the coming four practises to work out combinations that work. You're not reserves, any of you. You're all part of the team, but you're going to have different roles. Right, that will be all for today, but remember first practise is on Tuesday evening at six. Now sod off.”
There was some nervous laughter among the newest members of the team, while the older ones responded with variations on “up yours, too” or, in Derrick's case, a series of hand gestures Spencer didn't entirely understand the meaning of but which nevertheless gave off an impression of being extremely rude. As they all started to head off to the changing rooms together, Brendon turned on his broom and gave Spencer a happy thumbs-up.
“I'm sure he'll be an asset,” Malfoy said, and Spencer hated the sudden urge he had to thank Malfoy for letting Brendon into the team.
“He's very good,” he settled for.
“Sure,” Malfoy said nonchalantly. “Let's just hope he's a team player, right?”
Spencer said nothing. It was at moments like these that Malfoy's upbringing really disgusted him. That Brendon had the threat of being thrown out if he overstepped the line towards Malfoy hanging over him was quite clear enough already. There was no need to spell it out so crudely.
He rose. “Looks like rain,” he said. “I'm heading back. Do you want me to carry your backpack?” he added quickly, as Malfoy opened his mouth. “It might be a bit much, with your arm.”
Malfoy glared at him, annoyed no doubt at having been forestalled. “I can manage quite well, thanks,” he said, picking up his backpack with a sneer and turning to lead the way back to the castle.
t was Ryan and Jon's first Polyjuice switch of the new school year. The Gryffindors had double Transfiguration after lunch on Wednesdays which Jon wanted to go to, and Ryan had agreed to swap places with him for the duration of the class. He had time for a single Herbology class and then some study time in the Ravenclaw tower during the same time period.
He had brewed the Polyjuice Potion over the summer holidays in his own corner of his mother's home lab, keeping up a regular correspondence with Jon to see that he was on the right track. He'd been nervous, testing it for the first time-he happily conceded supremacy in the art of potion brewing to Jon-but they'd had a trial run one afternoon when neither of them had classes, and the Potion seemed to work just as well as last year. Today's first test of the effects on their class mates hadn't disappointed, either. Herbology had been fun, and he'd been pleased to realise he'd become good enough at playing the part of Jon that Spencer hadn't even seemed suspicious during the time they worked together. In fact, Ryan hadn't had time to inform Brendon that he and Jon were switching for the afternoon, and he felt like even Brendon had fallen for the act today.
Then again, Brendon had seemed distracted in general this afternoon. Probably thinking about Quidditch, Ryan thought, trying to ignore the small sting that came with the realisation. Maybe Brendon wouldn't have time to fly as often now that he would have Quidditch practise all the time.
“What are you thinking about, Walker?” Mason asked, and Ryan blinked.
“Quidditch,” he said without thinking.
“Oh, yeah, you tried out this weekend, right?” Gamp asked, leaning forward across the table and grinning. “What was it like?”
Ryan shrugged. He hadn't exactly asked Jon for details. “Fun,” he hazarded.
“So are you going to join the Quidditch team?” Mason asked.
Ryan froze, trying to remember if Jon had said anything about a preference one way or the other. “I'm not entirely sure yet,” he settled for eventually, deciding on the safest answer.
On the other side of the table, Kevin Entwhistle from Year Three was giving him an appraising look. “You know, if you're just in it for the flying, you should check out orienteering sometime,” he said.
Gamp shone up. “Oh, yeah, that'd be great,” she said. “I'm starting it this year, too.”
“Orienteering?” Ryan asked, confused.
“Yeah, haven't you ever heard about it before?” Entwhistle asked, and when Ryan shook his head added, “Oh, right, Muggleborn.”
Ryan stopped himself from pointing out that you didn't have to be Muggleborn to be ignorant of sports.
“Orienteering is basically like flying a course, only it's done over the entire Hogwarts grounds. You get a map and a location for your first stopping point, and after that you have to work out the other locations by solving problems. When you've managed your task, you get a new location to find. But you know what?” Entwhistle tore off the end of his roll of parchment and scribbled something on it, then handed it to Ryan. It said Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff fifth-year. “You should talk to this guy. He's sort of the leader of the orienteering.”
“Diggory?” Ryan frowned. “Isn't he already the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain?”
Entwhistle nodded, grinning. “Yes, but he still does orienteering. He's a bit of a flying nerd. Anyway, you should talk to him if you're interested. He can explain it better than I can. I've only been doing it for a year. It's a lot of fun, though.”
“It's great,” Gamp agreed. “I went to watch sometimes last year, and it looks like so much fun. I can't wait until we get to do join.”
“Why haven't you invited me, then?” Mason asked. Gamp rolled her eyes at him, but fondly.
“Because you couldn't fly to save your life if you were being chased by a Peruvian Vipertooth,” she told him.
on hurried into the library, spotted Spencer and waved, grinning.
“Sorry,” he said, sliding into his place across the table. “I got caught up in something.” Ryan had been late for their check-point, having been caught up in an interesting discussion in the Ravenclaw tower, and Jon had spent a fidgety quarter of an hour waiting for him to show up so they could change robes.
“No problem,” Spencer said distractedly. He was immersed in a Charms book, but while Jon got all his books onto the table, he appeared to finish whatever riveting passage he'd been reading and looked up. “Was it about Quidditch?”
“Huh?”
“You tried out this Sunday, right?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I did.” Jon rallied. “That's right.”
“Did you get in?”
“Yeah, they want me for Keeper,” Jon said. Spencer looked at him, curiously.
“So are you going to join?” he asked.
Jon shrugged. “Still not really sure,” he said. “It would be fun, I guess. I like some of the others on the team. And it would be fun to still have a reason to fly, now that we're not having any more flying lessons with Madam Hooch.”
Spencer raised his eyebrows, and Jon grinned. Spencer wasn't a big fan of flying in general.
“I guess I could always join the orienteering, but I don't really think I'd like it,” he said, recalling what Ryan had talked about when they changed back.
“Orienteering?” Spencer said.
“Yeah, you know-you fly a sort of course, and-”
Spencer waved this away. “No, I know what it is. My cousin does orienteering twice a week-he's always been a bit weird like that. I didn't know there was a club at Hogwarts, though.”
“Oh, yeah, it's being run by Cedric Diggory. You know, that Hufflepuff from the train. I think I'm going to tell Luna about it.”
“Really?” Spencer raised his eyebrows, grinning.
Jon laughed. “Yeah, I'm not sure she'd be any good. We had a navigation exercise with Madam Hooch at the end of last year, and Luna just disappeared. She was supposed to fly to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and back, but she never came back. Madam Hooch was trying to be jovial about it, but you could see she was really worried. Anyway, finally we went to look for her, and she was sitting in a tree watching a nest of Bowtruckles.”
“I'm not really surprised.”
Jon shook his head in agreement. “I think Madam Hooch is grateful that our class isn't doing Flying any more. Luna was never good at remembering what she was supposed to be doing. She likes it, though.” Jon leaned back in his chair and prodded Spencer's leg with his foot. “Maybe you could join orienteering? Or you could try out for Quidditch, that'd be great, too.”
“Over my dismembered body,” Spencer said calmly. “Speaking of which, I want to pick your brains about Defence Against the Dark Arts.”
Jon winced. “Did Professor Lupin do that demonstration with your class, too?”
Spencer blinked, then nodded and gave a mock shudder. “Yes, he did. But I have to admit, it made me want to get a really good grip on Shield Charms.” He paused, then said, “So you have seen the dispersement demonstration?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh, I don't know.” Spencer shrugged. “You just sounded so vague when we talked about it before.”
Before had probably been in Herbology. Jon laughed, not missing a beat.
“Sorry, my head was all over the place in Herbology,” he said. “I can't believe we're finally getting to work in Greenhouse Three. Anyway, what did you want to talk about? About Defence Against the Dark Arts, I mean?”
Spencer's confused expression cleared, and he reached behind him to bring out a scroll of parchment from his bag.
“I have a lot of thoughts,” he warned. “OK, so firstly, what do you think about protego totalum and close-combat uses? And secondly...” He looked up from his notes and grinned at Jon. “Wasn't that demonstration the grossest thing you'd ever seen?”
he Common Room was full to bursting. The weather was terrible, with harsh winds and pouring rain. With the outdoors thus unwelcoming, almost the entire House had opted for the Common Room this Saturday, and the noise level had been rising steadily since ten. Ryan had for some time contemplated escaping to the Library, but his corner of the room was deliciously warm right now, and it was very difficult to persuade himself to exchange it for the raw chill between the Library's bookshelves. Besides, Ginny was in the Library doing her Transfigurations project with Melanie Oates and Olivia Chung, and Ryan knew that if he went there she'd feel obliged to invite him to sit with them, even though she actually wanted to work alone with the girls.
“Hello, Ryan,” someone said, and when he looked up he saw Parvati Patil smiling carefully at him. “Can I share your table? All the others are taken.”
Ryan looked behind her, but when he couldn't see Lavender anywhere he nodded. Parvati was a lot easier to talk to when Lavender wasn't around-she was somewhat quieter, and didn't giggle as much. (Just as Lavender without Parvati by her side wasn't as brittle in her self-chosen role of social savant. Still giggly though.)
Parvati sank gratefully into a chair and started to unload books from her bag. Ryan tried to concentrate on his History of Magic questions, but his eye was caught by titles such as Cards on the Table: a Beginner's Guide to Tarot and Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself against Shocks.
“Is that for Divination?” he asked at last, nodding at the books. “How is it?”
Parvati looked uncertain for a moment, then smiled. “It's kind of cool,” she said. “I mean, it-it feels kind of right.” She hesitated, then went on, “But I don't know... I don't think she's very good. Professor Trelawney. I mean, she said all this stuff at our first lesson, things that were going to happen. And it was really impressive, but I feel like-I don't think it works like that. She does this, too,” Parvati assumed a slightly cross-eyed, heavy-lidded look with a ridiculous twist to the mouth, “whenever she looks in our tea leaves or things. And I think you really just have to do this.” There was no visible change in Parvati's expression, but her eyes looked a bit like Luna's did, sometimes-like they were focused on something Ryan couldn't see. “At least, when I do that I think I can see a bit of what the book is talking about. It's always just vague, but I think that's what it's actually about. Shadows. I think it's too hard to see real stuff, what's really going to happen.”
She stopped and shrugged, suddenly and forcefully. “But I don't know. Lavender always says she sees all kinds of things, really clearly.”
There was the merest hint of disapproval in her voice. It was the closest Ryan had ever heard her come to disagreeing with Lavender.
“So are you going to give it up, then?” he asked. “Divination?”
Parvati looked at him, then grinned. “No, it's still worth it, you know? I think I could study it on my own as easily, but then I'd have to buy the tea.” She grinned again, cheekily, then offered the book to him. “Do you want to see what I'm doing?”
Ryan's History of Magic homework was quickly forgotten.
h, hey! Jon!”
Jon turned, grinning as he recognised Cedric Diggory running towards him.
“Hey,” he said. “How are you?”
“Good, it's great,” Cedric said, coming to a stop beside him. “Lot to do. But it's good. Look, Entwhistle told me you were interested in orienteering.”
“Oh,” Jon said. “Right.”
“Yeah, and I just wanted to tell you-we're moving up the first orienteering meeting, so it's this Wednesday instead of next week. I've just been posting notices in the Common Rooms, but when I saw you I thought I'd tell you, as well.”
“Thanks,” Jon said awkwardly, “but actually, I don't think I'll join this year after all. I mean, it sounds great, but the Ravenclaw Quidditch team offered me Keeper, and I just decided to take it. Sorry.”
He was expecting Cedric to look disappointed or annoyed, but Cedric only laughed. “Good, so we'll get to fly against each other one way or another,” he said. “I understand. It's tough enough doing one sport at a time. Maybe we'll see you another year?”
“Possibly,” Jon said, grinning back.
“Right, I have to run,” Cedric said. “I'll see you around!”
“See you,” Jon said. Then, as Cedric was already on his way down the corridor, remembered Ryan. “Wait, forgot to tell you,” he called. “My friend Ryan Ross, from Gryffindor, he's interested in joining. I'll tell him about the changed time.”
“Great!” Cedric turned and gave him a thumbs up. “We'll take care of him, don't worry.”
anting to be on the safe side, Ryan had left for his first orienteering meeting half an hour before it was supposed to start-the passage through Hogwarts' corridors was never straightforward, and he wasn't going to be late because some staircase was in a sulky mood-and he arrived much too early. There were two other students waiting in front of the greenhouses who Ryan thought were in year four or five and possibly Hufflepuff, but he wasn't sure if they were there for orienteering or not and spent half a minute in an agony of indecision, trying to make up his mind whether to talk to them or not. He was saved from having to decide by Gamp, who showed up carrying her broom over one shoulder and grinning at the world in general.
“Gamp!” Ryan said, relieved to see a familiar face. She blinked and frowned at him.
“Um,” she said. “Ross?”
Ryan could have kicked himself. He never usually made this kind of mistake any more. “Yeah,” he said, inventing quickly, “Jon said you'd be doing orienteering, too. Told me to speak to you.” There; that could have been a lot worse.
“Jon?” Gamp said, not looking very much the wiser.
“Jonathan Walker,” Ryan explained, mentally giving himself another kick. But Gamp finally lit up in understanding.
“Right, Walker,” she said. “He didn't want to join, too, then?”
“No, it was Quidditch for him,” Ryan said, giving her a shrug. “But he told me about this and I thought it sounded fun, so I decided to join instead.”
“Good choice. It's really great.” She grinned at him, and he smiled back. He liked Gamp. She was fun without being very loud, and a first-class Astronomer in the making.
Entwhistle joined them shortly after, and Gamp introduced him to Ryan, who fought down a laugh. Even after almost a year of switching between his face and Jon's, it was still weird to have to be introduced to people he knew already.
While they waited for everyone to arrive, Entwhistle told them stories from last year's orienteering meetings, and as students started to appear one after the other he waved some over and introduced them. Ryan thought he recognised people from just about every year apart from Year One, although house-wise, the orienteering club was almost entirely confined to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. As far as Ryan could tell, he was the only Gryffindor there, and there were only two students he recognised as Slytherin.
There were calls of welcome at one end of the group, and Ryan looked over to see that the fifth-year Jon had pointed out as Cedric Diggory was walking up with Professor Flitwick, broom in one hand and a basket with scrolls of parchment in the other.
“Hello, everyone, and welcome back!” he called. “Hope you've all had a very good summer and that you are ready for the new year. If you could just pass the maps around and take one each...”
He handed the basket to the closest student, who rummaged among the scrolls and took one, then handed the basket to the girl next to him.
“Today's theme is Charms,” Diggory said. “Professor Flitwick will be supervising, which, unfortunately, doesn't necessarily mean he will also be assisting. He asked me to tell you at this point that his favourite sweets are Fizzing Whizzbees-I don't really know why...” Entwhistle laughed, and Ryan saw several other students grin or make faces. It was weird-the atmosphere here was more like the celebrations after a Quidditch win than the anticipation before the game.
The basket passed him, and he was about to take a scroll and pass it on when Entwhistle stopped him, showing him that each map was marked with a year. He took one marked Year Three and gave one marked Year Two to Ryan with a grin, then passed the basket on.
“But before we start,” Diggory went on, “there are a couple of new faces. If you could just introduce yourself quickly, name and house.” He looked at Ryan, who swallowed.
“Hi,” he said. “I'm Ryan Ross, in Gryffindor. Year Two.”
People started clapping, and he shut his mouth so quickly he only narrowly avoided biting his tongue. One or two students waved at him, and two chorused “Hello, Ryan Ross” in drawn-out, lilting tones. He blushed furiously, wondering if he'd said something stupid, but when the same treatment was repeated for the rest of the new members, he realised that they were merely being welcoming.
Diggory grinned. “OK, everyone else will have to wait to introduce themselves until afterwards if we're going to get anywhere today. Has everyone got a map?” There were nods and affirmative murmurs among the students. “Everyone's map shows a location? That is, do you see a green point somewhere on your map?” he added, looking over towards Ryan and the other new-comers. Ryan indicated that this was so. “Great! Then, everyone, mount your brooms. Professor, if you'd do the honours...”
Professor Flitwick cleared his throat, pulled out a pocket watch and peered at it. “On your marks,” he squeaked. “Get set... Go!”
The students kicked off as one and scattered. Ryan saw a few flying side by side for a while, laughing and calling out challenging phrases, but eventually everyone diverged onto their own paths. Ryan checked his map again, measuring off against his compass. His location was by the south edge of the lake and, by his estimation, not far from the boats they had used to sail over the lake on their first night at Hogwarts. In fact, as he got closer, he saw that the point he was looking for-a silvery orb hanging in mid-air-was in fact right next to where the boats were anchored. He landed softly, stepped up to the orb and, feeling slightly awkward, tapped it with his wand.
Nothing happened.
He stared at the orb, then at his wand, and then finally, at a loss, at his map. He blinked. The map had changed, becoming a set of instructions.
Swans get airborne by running on water, but we mustn't run before we can sail. To find your next location, you must start over water, at least twenty feet from the shore. (Remember, as always, to leave the grounds in the same state as they were when you arrived.)
Ryan frowned, confused. No one had told him there would be riddles.
A gust of wind made a rope of some kind snap in the rigging on the closest boat, and Ryan grinned to himself, realising. Right. This was easy.
They'd spent two weeks doing introductory weather charms with some Irish witch Flitwick brought in last year, and although Ryan was aware that true weather charming was an extremely difficult business, he remembered enough to charm some wind into the sails of one of the smaller boats. A simple Locomotion Charm should then be enough to get the boat back to shore, once he was no longer concerned about keeping the boat steady.
Ryan became aware that he was still grinning as he settled back in his boat and worked the sail into what he thought was a better position, coasting along on the light breeze he had conjured up. Orienteering was turning out to be just as great as he had hoped.
Next chapter