The Road Not Taken: Chapter Nine Part Two
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The Road Not Taken: Chapter Nine Part Two
Hermione dragged them out of bed early on Thursday to do a last minute study of her notes at breakfast. Harry trailed in after them, knuckling sleep from his eyes. Hermione had woken their whole room up, trying to rouse Harry and Neville. Ron had always been foul tempered in the mornings. Their late night Astronomy class made him even crankier.
Harry caught sight of Draco entering the Great Hall with Theodore Nott. Harry looked away before they could notice his stare. Nott’s allegiances had appeared to be neutral in the war with Voldemort. Harry hadn’t caught sight of him during Hammerstein’s invasion, though Nott might have been Draco’s source of information on that front. As Harry remembered, Nott had been a loner through their years at Hogwarts, never joining anyone’s click of friends. Nott’s father was a Death Eater, Harry remembered with a wince. But not Nott. He made a face. That was a bad pun.
“Don’t you think, Harry?”
He blinked over at Hermione. “Huh?”
“Harry,” she frowned at him. “You’ll never learn to fly if you don’t pay attention.”
“I’ll be fine. Just make sure to relax,” he told them. “Nerves won’t do you any good. I bet.”
The rest of Gryffindor spilled into the Great Hall before Hermione could respond. Ron and Dean were still at it - though they toned down the volume of their dispute as McGonagall gave them a sharp glance. Ron’s comical eye roll and talking hand gestures seemed to mend some part of his and Dean’s spat as Hermione restarted her review. Harry glared at Ron as he mocked the girl - was Ron really this much of wanker during first year? No wonder Hermione was miserable by Halloween. Of course, he felt a stab of guilt, I was just as much to blame as Ron by then.
Hermione was interrupted by the mail. Harry had received a few more genial notes from Hagrid, something that hadn’t happened the first time around, but Hedwig brought him no mail that day. Harry watched as Malfoy’s eagle owl arrived with yet another package. They were all from Narcissa, Harry had noted. The notes, the candies, all of it. Never a word from his father.
Just how much distance set the two apart? Harry pushed his eggs across his plate. I always thought Draco was like Dudley, who could kick and scream and be horrid to his parents and get exactly what he wanted. Was that the truth or was it just what they wanted us to see?
The Malfoys, Harry had learned over many years, had more layers - and bite - than onions. Not every layer was the truth. Most often they hid their deepest core from everyone. When they had gotten drunk at the pub, Draco’s layers had come down, but Harry was never sure just how many there really were.
Harry was startled from his thoughts when a barn owl landed in front of Neville. “It’s from my Gran!” the boy exclaimed as he opened his package. It contained a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of smoke. “It’s a Rememberall!” Neville told Hermione. “Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turned red - oh…” His face fell as the Rememberall turned scarlet. “I - I must have forgotten…something…”
“What, Neville forgetting something? Impossible,” Ron snickered. Then he snitched it out of Neville’s hand.
“Hey!” Neville tried to grab it back.
“Looks like I’m not forgetting anything,” Ron laughed, holding up a clear sphere.
“Just your manners,” Hermione snapped. “Give it back.”
“What’s going on?” Professor McGonagall appeared behind Ron. The redhead shoved the Rememberall back at Neville.
“Nothing, Professor,” Ron was quick to say.
“Do try to keep your voices at an acceptable level,” McGonagall said as she swept away.
Harry shared an eye roll with Hermione. Neville kept a protective hand around his gift, even as he tried to remember what it was he had forgot.
~*~
At three-thirty that afternoon Harry found himself trailing after the other first year Gryffindors as they hurried down the front steps and onto the grounds for their first flying lesson.
It was a clear, breezy day. Harry turned his face to the fall sun, drawing in a deep breath. He could smell wood smoke from the kitchens. The Forbidden Forest was starting to turn colors, a few brilliant red and gold trees peeking out from the solid wall of green.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry thought he saw Draco give them a nod and a sly wink. Then Madam Hooch arrived. Her short gray hair was tousled from the wind. Her yellow eyes swept over them at a glance. “Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”
Harry ended up between Hermione and Neville. Ron was on the other side of Neville, a gleeful expression on his face.
“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch, “and say ‘UP’!”
“UP!” Everyone shouted.
As Harry remembered, his broom jumped to his hand at once. Hermione’s rolled over on the ground and Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. His friends were some of the last to get their brooms in the air.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end. Ron, Crabbe and Goyle all started to laugh as Hooch corrected Draco’s grip. The blond’s cheeks had taken on a pink cast as he split his glare between Ron and his fellow Slytherins.
“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, three - two -”
Neville’s broom jerked off the ground before Madam Hooch’s mark. The boy rose straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared, white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -
WHAM. A thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. Harry scrambled off his broom as Hermione fought with hers. Harry fell to his knees next to Neville as Madam Hooch started to check him over, her face as white as Neville’s.
“Broken wrist,” Harry heard her murmur. “Come on, lad. It’s all right, up you get.” She had a supportive hand under Neville’s arm as they stood.
She turned to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing. You leave those brooms where they lay or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say Quidditch. Come on, dear.”
Harry held Hermione’s arm as Madam Hooch led a tear-streaked Neville away.
No sooner were they out of earshot before Ron burst into laughter. “Did you see that?” He turned to Seamus. “My little sister did better the first time we put her on a broom!”
“Ron!” Hermione snapped at him. “He’s your housemate.”
“Fat lot your instructions did him, eh?” Ron wiped at his eyes. Harry winced as Hermione’s face went white.
“Well, at least he proved he could fly,” Draco shot back.
“Unlike you,” Ron snickered. “Oh, look,” Ron bent down and picked up something out of the grass. “It’s his Rememberall! Maybe that’s what he forgot? All the stupid stuff you’ve been filling his ears with!” Ron waved the Rememberall at Hermione.
“Give that here, Ron,” Harry said, patience snapping. “And quit being such a prat. Neville could have died and you’re laughing about it?”
“He wouldn’t have died,” Ron rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll keep it. Until he can remember where he last had it!” He laughed.
“I didn’t know the Weasleys were so poor that they needed to steal from their own housemates,” Draco drawled.
Ron’s face flushed. “Shut up, Malfoy.”
“I should report you for being the greedy little weasel you are,” Draco sneered.
“That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Running off to tattle.”
“I’ll show you what I’m good at.”
“Oh, yeah?” Ron jumped onto his broom. “Bet you can’t take this from me!” Ron held out the Rememberall. “Come and get it!”
Draco snatched up his broom and was off in an instant.
“No!” Hermione cried. “Madam Hooch told us not to move - you’ll get us all into trouble!”
The boys ignored her. Merlin, is this a mess. Harry grabbed up his broom, blood pounding in his ears. He kicked off after them, even as Hermione shouted for him to come down this instant. The feel of a broomstick under his palms was wonderful, the old, familiar feeling striking a chord all the way down to his bones.
“Would you two quit it?” He snarled as he pulled even to the boys. “Ron, get down, we’re about to get expelled. Draco, your grip -”
Draco yelped as his broom dipped. Ron started to laugh. Harry zoomed in close to Ron, startling the boy.
“Give it here!” Harry tried to swipe it away from him.
“I won’t! Why’d you warn him?” Ron glared. “Who cares if he falls, he’s just a Slytherin.”
“You’re a bloody idiot,” Harry snarled. “Why wouldn’t I warn him? I don’t want him to fall!”
“Leave off, Potter. I can handle him,” Draco snapped.
“Would the both of you just land so we won’t get thrown out and give me Neville’s Rememberall!”
“Catch it if you can, then!” Ron shouted, face an ugly shade of red. He threw the glass as hard as he could - almost falling off his broom in the process. Draco’s quick catch was all that kept Ron from a head long rush to the ground.
Harry saw the ball arch into the air. Neville had been so happy that his grandmother had sent him a present. A slow burn started in his belly. Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down - the next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - the wind whistled in his ears, mingling with the screams of the other first years watching. He stretched out his hand and snatched the ball a foot from the ground, just in time to pull his broom straight. He slid to the ground with shaky legs, the Rememberall clutched safely in his fist.
“HARRY POTTER!”
Harry winced and turned. Professor McGonagall was running towards them. “Never in all my time at Hogwarts -,” Professor McGonagall’s glasses flashed. “You might have broken your neck.”
“It wasn’t his fault, Professor,”
“Be quiet, Miss Patil.”
Harry shot the girl a rueful look.
“But Ron -”
“That is enough, Miss Patil. Potter, follow me, now.” She turned. “And you,” she thundered at Ron and Draco. “I expected better from the both of you. Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. Five points to Slytherin for a good catch, Mr. Malfoy, but five points from Slytherin for being in the air. Potter,” she made a curt gesture and stalked away. Harry tried to smile at a white-faced Hermione. Draco had a mutinous scowl for McGonagall, even as Ron made a face at the woman’s back.
Harry had to jog to keep up with the woman. Had he done it, now? Was he going to be expelled, since he wasn’t defending a fellow Gryffindor? How was McGonagall going to react? She obviously knew Ron had been the one to throw -
McGongall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.
“Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?”
Oliver, Harry had to fight to keep from smiling. I’m not going to be expelled!
Wood’s large, familiar frame shuffled out of the door, a confused expression on his face.
“Follow me, you two,” said McGonagall. “In here,” she led them into a classroom that was empty aside from Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.
“Out, Peeves!” McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys. “Potter, this is Oliver Wood - I’ve found you a Seeker,” she said to the older boy.
Wood’s expression changed from puzzlement to delight. “Are you serious, Professor?”
“Absolutely. The boy’s a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?”
Harry nodded, feeling a touch of guilt. It was the first time this body’s been on a broomstick, he rationalized. McGonagall held out her hand. Harry realized he was still clutching Neville’s Remember and handed it over.
“He caught this after a fifty-foot drive,” McGonagall showed Wood. “Didn’t even scratch himself.”
Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true. “Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?” Wood asked, eyes not leaving the Rememberall in McGonagall’s hand.
“Wood is the captain of the Gryffindor team,” McGonagall said.
“He’s just the build for a Seeker, too,” Wood’s gaze had wrenched away from the ball. He circled Harry, eyes intent. “Light, speedy. Merlin, Potter, you’re built like a swallow. We’ll have to get a decent broom, Professor, a Nimbus 2000 or a Cleansweep 7, I’d say. The school brooms would buck him off.”
“I shall speak to the Headmaster and see if we can’t bend the first year rule. Merlin knows we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin. I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks.” Professor McGonagall peered at him from over her glasses. “I want to hear you’re training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you.”
Harry nodded furiously. She smiled.
“Your father would have been proud,” she said. “He was an excellent Quidditch player, himself.”
Harry had to look away. I know, he wanted to tell her. I know.
~*~
“You’re joking,” Hermione demanded. Her food was forgotten on her plate.
“I know,” Harry put his elbows on the table, chin in his hand.
“But Madam Hooch said…”
“Yeah.”
Ron glowered at them from his spot between Dean and Seamus. “I don’t see why you didn’t lose House points,” he grumbled. “You were up there, too.”
Shadows fell over Harry. He looked up to see Fred and George giving their little brother a pair of hard looks. “Well done, Potter,” George said. “Wood told us. We’re on the team too, Beaters.”
They slid in next to Harry. Wood was right behind them.
“I tell you we’re going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year,” Wood said. “McGonagall told me she didn’t think Charlie could have pulled that dive off and he was the best Seeker we’d had in years.”
“Charlie’s a thousand times better than him,” Ron shot.
Wood snorted. “I doubt that. Anyhow, we’ll find out next week,” Wood leaned around Fred to peer at Harry. “We start training next week, Potter. We’ll get you a schedule. Don’t be late.”
“But…” Hermione looked at the older boys. “First years aren’t allowed on the Quidditch teams. The rules say so!”
“He’ll be the youngest House player in about a century,” Fred nodded. “Nice work, Potter,” he gave Harry a nudge. Ron’s scowl had etched furrows into his face.
Hermione was still upset when they left supper. They ran into Draco and Nott before Harry could find out why.
“How much trouble are you in?” Draco asked as they all hesitated outside the door to the Great Hall.
“I’m not,” Harry shrugged. Draco peered at him, but Harry kept his mouth shut. He’d been told not to tell anyone about his placement and Draco, at age eleven, was anything but discrete.
“Thank you,” Hermione blurted. They all turned to stare at her. She had red spots blooming across her cheeks. “For catching Ron.”
“I didn’t need him to catch me. I was fine,” Ron snarled from behind them.
“You were not,” Hermione snapped, turning to face him.
“Oh, please. I meant to do that.”
“You’re a lot more confident now that you are back on the ground,” Draco drawled. “And you were going to fall.”
“Was not.”
“Were too.”
“Why, I ought to…”
“What, Weasel? Fall at me?”
“I could take you any time,” Ron spat out. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel, wands only - no contact.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Wait,” Hermione pushed between them. “Duels are against the rules.”
“Shut up, Granger,” Ron pushed at her. Harry caught her before she could fall.
“Wait a minute,” Harry tried.
“Midnight,” Ron said. “We’ll meet in the trophy room, that’s always unlocked.”
“What, no seconds?” Draco demanded.
“Are you too afraid, Malfoy?”
“Never.”
“Midnight,” Ron snapped and stalked off. Dean and Seamus gave them all wide-eyed stares before hurrying after him.
“But, wait,” Hermione turned to Harry.
“You’re risking a lot,” Harry told Draco.
“I’m a Malfoy,” Draco sniffed and walked off. Nott gave them a wry smile and followed Draco into the Great Hall.
“They’re going to lose us points,” Hermione hissed. “We can’t make it up all on our own. Especially if they find out you’re on the House team and…”
“Are you mad I made the Quidditch team?” He let go of her arm.
She flushed and looked away. “Of course not. But the House could get into trouble if the Headmaster says no and…”
“You are upset.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Why?”
“I said…”
“You are.”
“Our studies,” she snapped her mouth shut and turned away.
“I - are you saying you don’t want to study with me anymore?” Harry asked, oddly hurt.
“No!” She turned back to him. “But you’ll be busy now and Quidditch is a very dangerous sport and…”
“I’ll be fine,” Harry smiled, hurt gone. “And I still want to study with you and Neville. Practice is just three times a week, maybe we could do it after on those days?”
Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes at him, but Harry thought he saw a little of the tension leave her shoulders. “Oh, now you’re going to mess up our time table and…” He let her rant as they made their way back to the dormitory. He knew she would have a revised time schedule by the morning.
Next Part
The Road Not Taken: Chapter Nine Part Two
Hermione dragged them out of bed early on Thursday to do a last minute study of her notes at breakfast. Harry trailed in after them, knuckling sleep from his eyes. Hermione had woken their whole room up, trying to rouse Harry and Neville. Ron had always been foul tempered in the mornings. Their late night Astronomy class made him even crankier.
Harry caught sight of Draco entering the Great Hall with Theodore Nott. Harry looked away before they could notice his stare. Nott’s allegiances had appeared to be neutral in the war with Voldemort. Harry hadn’t caught sight of him during Hammerstein’s invasion, though Nott might have been Draco’s source of information on that front. As Harry remembered, Nott had been a loner through their years at Hogwarts, never joining anyone’s click of friends. Nott’s father was a Death Eater, Harry remembered with a wince. But not Nott. He made a face. That was a bad pun.
“Don’t you think, Harry?”
He blinked over at Hermione. “Huh?”
“Harry,” she frowned at him. “You’ll never learn to fly if you don’t pay attention.”
“I’ll be fine. Just make sure to relax,” he told them. “Nerves won’t do you any good. I bet.”
The rest of Gryffindor spilled into the Great Hall before Hermione could respond. Ron and Dean were still at it - though they toned down the volume of their dispute as McGonagall gave them a sharp glance. Ron’s comical eye roll and talking hand gestures seemed to mend some part of his and Dean’s spat as Hermione restarted her review. Harry glared at Ron as he mocked the girl - was Ron really this much of wanker during first year? No wonder Hermione was miserable by Halloween. Of course, he felt a stab of guilt, I was just as much to blame as Ron by then.
Hermione was interrupted by the mail. Harry had received a few more genial notes from Hagrid, something that hadn’t happened the first time around, but Hedwig brought him no mail that day. Harry watched as Malfoy’s eagle owl arrived with yet another package. They were all from Narcissa, Harry had noted. The notes, the candies, all of it. Never a word from his father.
Just how much distance set the two apart? Harry pushed his eggs across his plate. I always thought Draco was like Dudley, who could kick and scream and be horrid to his parents and get exactly what he wanted. Was that the truth or was it just what they wanted us to see?
The Malfoys, Harry had learned over many years, had more layers - and bite - than onions. Not every layer was the truth. Most often they hid their deepest core from everyone. When they had gotten drunk at the pub, Draco’s layers had come down, but Harry was never sure just how many there really were.
Harry was startled from his thoughts when a barn owl landed in front of Neville. “It’s from my Gran!” the boy exclaimed as he opened his package. It contained a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of smoke. “It’s a Rememberall!” Neville told Hermione. “Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turned red - oh…” His face fell as the Rememberall turned scarlet. “I - I must have forgotten…something…”
“What, Neville forgetting something? Impossible,” Ron snickered. Then he snitched it out of Neville’s hand.
“Hey!” Neville tried to grab it back.
“Looks like I’m not forgetting anything,” Ron laughed, holding up a clear sphere.
“Just your manners,” Hermione snapped. “Give it back.”
“What’s going on?” Professor McGonagall appeared behind Ron. The redhead shoved the Rememberall back at Neville.
“Nothing, Professor,” Ron was quick to say.
“Do try to keep your voices at an acceptable level,” McGonagall said as she swept away.
Harry shared an eye roll with Hermione. Neville kept a protective hand around his gift, even as he tried to remember what it was he had forgot.
~*~
At three-thirty that afternoon Harry found himself trailing after the other first year Gryffindors as they hurried down the front steps and onto the grounds for their first flying lesson.
It was a clear, breezy day. Harry turned his face to the fall sun, drawing in a deep breath. He could smell wood smoke from the kitchens. The Forbidden Forest was starting to turn colors, a few brilliant red and gold trees peeking out from the solid wall of green.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry thought he saw Draco give them a nod and a sly wink. Then Madam Hooch arrived. Her short gray hair was tousled from the wind. Her yellow eyes swept over them at a glance. “Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”
Harry ended up between Hermione and Neville. Ron was on the other side of Neville, a gleeful expression on his face.
“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch, “and say ‘UP’!”
“UP!” Everyone shouted.
As Harry remembered, his broom jumped to his hand at once. Hermione’s rolled over on the ground and Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. His friends were some of the last to get their brooms in the air.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end. Ron, Crabbe and Goyle all started to laugh as Hooch corrected Draco’s grip. The blond’s cheeks had taken on a pink cast as he split his glare between Ron and his fellow Slytherins.
“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, three - two -”
Neville’s broom jerked off the ground before Madam Hooch’s mark. The boy rose straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared, white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -
WHAM. A thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. Harry scrambled off his broom as Hermione fought with hers. Harry fell to his knees next to Neville as Madam Hooch started to check him over, her face as white as Neville’s.
“Broken wrist,” Harry heard her murmur. “Come on, lad. It’s all right, up you get.” She had a supportive hand under Neville’s arm as they stood.
She turned to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing. You leave those brooms where they lay or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say Quidditch. Come on, dear.”
Harry held Hermione’s arm as Madam Hooch led a tear-streaked Neville away.
No sooner were they out of earshot before Ron burst into laughter. “Did you see that?” He turned to Seamus. “My little sister did better the first time we put her on a broom!”
“Ron!” Hermione snapped at him. “He’s your housemate.”
“Fat lot your instructions did him, eh?” Ron wiped at his eyes. Harry winced as Hermione’s face went white.
“Well, at least he proved he could fly,” Draco shot back.
“Unlike you,” Ron snickered. “Oh, look,” Ron bent down and picked up something out of the grass. “It’s his Rememberall! Maybe that’s what he forgot? All the stupid stuff you’ve been filling his ears with!” Ron waved the Rememberall at Hermione.
“Give that here, Ron,” Harry said, patience snapping. “And quit being such a prat. Neville could have died and you’re laughing about it?”
“He wouldn’t have died,” Ron rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll keep it. Until he can remember where he last had it!” He laughed.
“I didn’t know the Weasleys were so poor that they needed to steal from their own housemates,” Draco drawled.
Ron’s face flushed. “Shut up, Malfoy.”
“I should report you for being the greedy little weasel you are,” Draco sneered.
“That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Running off to tattle.”
“I’ll show you what I’m good at.”
“Oh, yeah?” Ron jumped onto his broom. “Bet you can’t take this from me!” Ron held out the Rememberall. “Come and get it!”
Draco snatched up his broom and was off in an instant.
“No!” Hermione cried. “Madam Hooch told us not to move - you’ll get us all into trouble!”
The boys ignored her. Merlin, is this a mess. Harry grabbed up his broom, blood pounding in his ears. He kicked off after them, even as Hermione shouted for him to come down this instant. The feel of a broomstick under his palms was wonderful, the old, familiar feeling striking a chord all the way down to his bones.
“Would you two quit it?” He snarled as he pulled even to the boys. “Ron, get down, we’re about to get expelled. Draco, your grip -”
Draco yelped as his broom dipped. Ron started to laugh. Harry zoomed in close to Ron, startling the boy.
“Give it here!” Harry tried to swipe it away from him.
“I won’t! Why’d you warn him?” Ron glared. “Who cares if he falls, he’s just a Slytherin.”
“You’re a bloody idiot,” Harry snarled. “Why wouldn’t I warn him? I don’t want him to fall!”
“Leave off, Potter. I can handle him,” Draco snapped.
“Would the both of you just land so we won’t get thrown out and give me Neville’s Rememberall!”
“Catch it if you can, then!” Ron shouted, face an ugly shade of red. He threw the glass as hard as he could - almost falling off his broom in the process. Draco’s quick catch was all that kept Ron from a head long rush to the ground.
Harry saw the ball arch into the air. Neville had been so happy that his grandmother had sent him a present. A slow burn started in his belly. Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down - the next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - the wind whistled in his ears, mingling with the screams of the other first years watching. He stretched out his hand and snatched the ball a foot from the ground, just in time to pull his broom straight. He slid to the ground with shaky legs, the Rememberall clutched safely in his fist.
“HARRY POTTER!”
Harry winced and turned. Professor McGonagall was running towards them. “Never in all my time at Hogwarts -,” Professor McGonagall’s glasses flashed. “You might have broken your neck.”
“It wasn’t his fault, Professor,”
“Be quiet, Miss Patil.”
Harry shot the girl a rueful look.
“But Ron -”
“That is enough, Miss Patil. Potter, follow me, now.” She turned. “And you,” she thundered at Ron and Draco. “I expected better from the both of you. Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. Five points to Slytherin for a good catch, Mr. Malfoy, but five points from Slytherin for being in the air. Potter,” she made a curt gesture and stalked away. Harry tried to smile at a white-faced Hermione. Draco had a mutinous scowl for McGonagall, even as Ron made a face at the woman’s back.
Harry had to jog to keep up with the woman. Had he done it, now? Was he going to be expelled, since he wasn’t defending a fellow Gryffindor? How was McGonagall going to react? She obviously knew Ron had been the one to throw -
McGongall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.
“Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?”
Oliver, Harry had to fight to keep from smiling. I’m not going to be expelled!
Wood’s large, familiar frame shuffled out of the door, a confused expression on his face.
“Follow me, you two,” said McGonagall. “In here,” she led them into a classroom that was empty aside from Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.
“Out, Peeves!” McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys. “Potter, this is Oliver Wood - I’ve found you a Seeker,” she said to the older boy.
Wood’s expression changed from puzzlement to delight. “Are you serious, Professor?”
“Absolutely. The boy’s a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?”
Harry nodded, feeling a touch of guilt. It was the first time this body’s been on a broomstick, he rationalized. McGonagall held out her hand. Harry realized he was still clutching Neville’s Remember and handed it over.
“He caught this after a fifty-foot drive,” McGonagall showed Wood. “Didn’t even scratch himself.”
Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true. “Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?” Wood asked, eyes not leaving the Rememberall in McGonagall’s hand.
“Wood is the captain of the Gryffindor team,” McGonagall said.
“He’s just the build for a Seeker, too,” Wood’s gaze had wrenched away from the ball. He circled Harry, eyes intent. “Light, speedy. Merlin, Potter, you’re built like a swallow. We’ll have to get a decent broom, Professor, a Nimbus 2000 or a Cleansweep 7, I’d say. The school brooms would buck him off.”
“I shall speak to the Headmaster and see if we can’t bend the first year rule. Merlin knows we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin. I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks.” Professor McGonagall peered at him from over her glasses. “I want to hear you’re training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you.”
Harry nodded furiously. She smiled.
“Your father would have been proud,” she said. “He was an excellent Quidditch player, himself.”
Harry had to look away. I know, he wanted to tell her. I know.
~*~
“You’re joking,” Hermione demanded. Her food was forgotten on her plate.
“I know,” Harry put his elbows on the table, chin in his hand.
“But Madam Hooch said…”
“Yeah.”
Ron glowered at them from his spot between Dean and Seamus. “I don’t see why you didn’t lose House points,” he grumbled. “You were up there, too.”
Shadows fell over Harry. He looked up to see Fred and George giving their little brother a pair of hard looks. “Well done, Potter,” George said. “Wood told us. We’re on the team too, Beaters.”
They slid in next to Harry. Wood was right behind them.
“I tell you we’re going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year,” Wood said. “McGonagall told me she didn’t think Charlie could have pulled that dive off and he was the best Seeker we’d had in years.”
“Charlie’s a thousand times better than him,” Ron shot.
Wood snorted. “I doubt that. Anyhow, we’ll find out next week,” Wood leaned around Fred to peer at Harry. “We start training next week, Potter. We’ll get you a schedule. Don’t be late.”
“But…” Hermione looked at the older boys. “First years aren’t allowed on the Quidditch teams. The rules say so!”
“He’ll be the youngest House player in about a century,” Fred nodded. “Nice work, Potter,” he gave Harry a nudge. Ron’s scowl had etched furrows into his face.
Hermione was still upset when they left supper. They ran into Draco and Nott before Harry could find out why.
“How much trouble are you in?” Draco asked as they all hesitated outside the door to the Great Hall.
“I’m not,” Harry shrugged. Draco peered at him, but Harry kept his mouth shut. He’d been told not to tell anyone about his placement and Draco, at age eleven, was anything but discrete.
“Thank you,” Hermione blurted. They all turned to stare at her. She had red spots blooming across her cheeks. “For catching Ron.”
“I didn’t need him to catch me. I was fine,” Ron snarled from behind them.
“You were not,” Hermione snapped, turning to face him.
“Oh, please. I meant to do that.”
“You’re a lot more confident now that you are back on the ground,” Draco drawled. “And you were going to fall.”
“Was not.”
“Were too.”
“Why, I ought to…”
“What, Weasel? Fall at me?”
“I could take you any time,” Ron spat out. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel, wands only - no contact.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Wait,” Hermione pushed between them. “Duels are against the rules.”
“Shut up, Granger,” Ron pushed at her. Harry caught her before she could fall.
“Wait a minute,” Harry tried.
“Midnight,” Ron said. “We’ll meet in the trophy room, that’s always unlocked.”
“What, no seconds?” Draco demanded.
“Are you too afraid, Malfoy?”
“Never.”
“Midnight,” Ron snapped and stalked off. Dean and Seamus gave them all wide-eyed stares before hurrying after him.
“But, wait,” Hermione turned to Harry.
“You’re risking a lot,” Harry told Draco.
“I’m a Malfoy,” Draco sniffed and walked off. Nott gave them a wry smile and followed Draco into the Great Hall.
“They’re going to lose us points,” Hermione hissed. “We can’t make it up all on our own. Especially if they find out you’re on the House team and…”
“Are you mad I made the Quidditch team?” He let go of her arm.
She flushed and looked away. “Of course not. But the House could get into trouble if the Headmaster says no and…”
“You are upset.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Why?”
“I said…”
“You are.”
“Our studies,” she snapped her mouth shut and turned away.
“I - are you saying you don’t want to study with me anymore?” Harry asked, oddly hurt.
“No!” She turned back to him. “But you’ll be busy now and Quidditch is a very dangerous sport and…”
“I’ll be fine,” Harry smiled, hurt gone. “And I still want to study with you and Neville. Practice is just three times a week, maybe we could do it after on those days?”
Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes at him, but Harry thought he saw a little of the tension leave her shoulders. “Oh, now you’re going to mess up our time table and…” He let her rant as they made their way back to the dormitory. He knew she would have a revised time schedule by the morning.
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