Author's Notes:
Hi, quick note before the chapter. I changed the Harry spying on Malfoy scene. My Beta, Socerer's Muse who really put in a lot of effort, showed me the error of my ways and so the scene changed. In summary: Lucius is dead and it's only Draco around to dream big.
"Walker!" Harry called from his office overlooking Trafalgar Square while rummaging around for lost papers. He'd demanded that the task force be moved away from the Ministry to a place more easily accessible for Muggles. More importantly Harry could work away from prying Ministry eyes.
A tallish man with copper hair and dark brown eyes walked calmly into the room. He had a slight limp, a present from a raid gone wrong when the man had been an active Auror. "Yes, Potter?"
Harry stared back down at his cluttered desk and continued to rummage through folders and rumpled papers. "Have you seen that file cataloguing the contents of Malfoy Manor?"
He heard a sigh. "It's all on your laptop. Don't you ever use the thing?"
"Is it? And I do use it." Harry dropped a pile papers which sent them sprawling across the floor. "Bugger." Then he promptly ignored them and flipped open the small laptop on the table. It took a moment for life to seep into the device, but soon enough he began rummaging through folders of a different kind.
"Need help?" Walker asked.
Harry shook his head and then immediately frowned. "You are horribly well organised, but I just can't make sense of your structure."
The man took a deep calming breath. It was usual. The two had been working together for almost a decade and despite appearances they actually worked well together. "It's rather obvious, Harry. I thought you would've figured this stuff out by now."
Harry felt the cool familiar touch of the somewhat cursed wand on his forearm. "I've always been slightly more focused on the business end of things, not paperwork."
The man leaned over the table, turned the laptop slightly, and began clicking through various folders. "We start at investigations, they are ordered by date and then a number. The number indicates the order in which they were filed that day. The number is followed by a description." He clicked again. "Malfoy Manor was investigated twenty five years ago. June I think." Harry nodded. "I thought so." Walker hummed softly as he scrolled down the list. "There, the twenty-third."
"Great," Harry clapped his hands together. "Thanks."
"No problem, Boss."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Boss?"
"You've been relegated to Boss for being annoying."
Harry snorted. "Be gone then!"
The man shook his head and left Harry alone, never once asking what he was after in the files. Honestly, Harry didn't know himself either and at times he had to sit back and wonder if his hatred for the Malfoys clouded his judgement. Nevertheless, he wanted to sift through that file again and perhaps he might find an item of interest.
Harry sighed, the conversation with Ginny, however, a few days back worried him. Could Voldemort really be raised from the dead? The dark items had all been catalogued and studied by Unspeakables, but not all the books and scrolls had been investigated, only documented. With Draco becoming the head of the Household and the family being free of accusations the Ministry had struggled to gain further access. Harry swallowed nervously as he carefully read the title of each book known to be within the libraries of Malfoy Manor. Yet more would have been hidden from prying eyes and he knew he had to investigate further.
Harry hit the print button and grabbed his coat. "I'm going to Hogwarts!" he declared before hurrying out of the office, no doubt leaving a bunch of analysts with curious expressions. When it came to books there was only one woman he really trusted.
James fidgeted nervously with the buttons on his shirt and struggled right up to the last one. He was not used to this. Hogsmeade meant a fun day eating chocolates and perusing the Quidditch store. Now he didn't know what was expected of him. At least he hadn't inherited his father's untameable hair. His could at least do what it was told even though he liked to keep it slightly messy. After a long two minutes of staring into the mirror he decided his appearance would not magically improve. The final check was to ensure that his Portkey was hanging securely around his neck. His hopes of slipping out the dorm unseen were dashed the moment he stepped into the common room.
"You look all neat and tidy, almost human for a change," Lily said the moment they saw each other. She sniffed his chest. "Hmm, It smells nice too."
"It is always respectable," he replied in a low voice. "Besides, nothing special is happening today."
She snickered. "Little birdies flittering about told me you have a date."
"It is not a date?" he snapped.
Her freckled face brightened. "So it is with someone. A certain someone who happens to be in Ravenclaw perhaps."
He had to be firm. "That is none of your business and it's not a date."
She giggled. "You protest too much."
He glared back, an action that never worked. "Are you going with a certain someone, for example Lydia, to Hogsmeade?"
He bit down on his lip. "You know too much for your own good."
"I try to make a habit of it. Dad taught us to keep a close eye on our surroundings, you know."
He couldn't argue. Their father had taught them a lot about self-defence and how to protect themselves in case of danger. "It's still not a date."
"Yes it is." She held up a single infuriating finger. "One person being joined." She held another accusatory finger. "By a second person and they head off alone." Her two finger wiggled as if walking. "Saunter off to Hogsmeade alone then it is, indeed, a date."
James closed his eyes, slightly annoyed. Lily could truly be unstoppable. "I really should be going." The words were mere mutters on his way towards the portrait hole.
"I know. You don't want to make a girl wait on the first date."
James scowled, and hurried through the opening and into the cold corridors of Hogwarts. The trip down to the entrance took forever and his palms were becoming moist. He kept glancing down at his shoes, pants and shirt. Each time something else would feel wrong, it was ludicrous.
"James," Lydia's familiar feminine voice called him over.
He glanced up and away from the clothes he knew to be fine. Lydia stood to the side of the entrance hall as far away as she could be from him. A few Ravenclaws giggled in as he passed them on his way to Lydia. His nervousness over possible wardrobe malfunctions vanished at the sight of her smile. "Sorry I'm late. My sister cornered me."
"I just arrived myself." She glanced away slightly, fingers intertwined.
"Well, shall we be off then?"
"Yes," she replied quickly. "The masses should be arriving shortly."
"Don't remind me," he laughed. "We better get into town before all the best chocolates are stolen by their greedy little fingers."
She laughed quietly, shaking her head. "You like chocolate then?"
"Love it. Mum has to hide it from me at home. What about you?"
"I'm a girl," she said as if that answered the question.
He frowned. "Um…"
"That's a yes, James."
He breathed out. "Oh… good then we can stop to get some before… um… well…" He scratched his head. When in doubt revert to the norm, he thought. "Well I was hoping to go to the Quidditch store."
She gave a somewhat pleased smile. "I need some things there myself."
He coughed. "Well… that's good… I suppose."
They left the confines of the school and walked down the meandering path towards Hogsmeade. A few older students were around and eager to spend time with friends or special someone's. The younger students hurried about trying hard to rid bodies of sugars already consumed.
As it always seemed to be these days, the village proved to be rather busy. Travelling vendors with bright coloured carts lined the pathways to capitalise on extra sales from students eager to spend. The masses came as well, almost as excited as children to take part. Hogsmeade weekends really did make for a festive atmosphere.
It was a considerable walk and it passed somewhat awkwardly with only occasional comments about the weather or other students nearby. When they finally reached the town James realised that no destination had really been discussed and he'd could only remember them mentioning chocolates. "So… Honeydukes still seems rather empty."
She gave a firm nod. "Should make it easy to find what I want."
"Yeah, if you're late then it's just little kids everywhere." He grumbled softly. "Why did they have to allow first to third years to join the fun?"
"I know." Lydia's eyes narrowed. "I had to wait three years and now they come along and just grab everything in sight."
"No taste whatsoever," he continued feeling tension begin to ebb away. "No upbringing either. Kids these days!"
"Absolutely horrid of them." Her mock stern expression faded and her face brightened with a smile as she tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. In the sunlight he once again noticed more red in her normally dark auburn hair. It really was beautiful, almost mesmerising.
"What?" she asked and he realised that he'd been staring.
"Your hair… um… it's beautiful," he stammered out unable to think of a convincing lie. The words immediately made his face glow.
She looked away and the only sound came from the scrunching of their feet on the gravel path. "We're here."
He let out a relieved breath. What he needed now was some chocolate frogs and a lot of them. They entered the relatively empty shop and found all the various glass bowls were still full. The early risers hadn't made much of a dent and the older students usually only bought small amounts. James grabbed a small bag and proceeded to load a few chocolate frogs and other dark coco flavoured treats. He continued unhurried while carefully deciding what he'll enjoy and by the time he felt satisfied he noticed Lydia, standing by the door with an amused smile, waiting for him. He hurried to pay before joining her by the door.
"What did you get?" she asked, but did not look surprised to see all the chocolates in his bag. "Hmm… all the variations."
He closed the bag, ashamed of all the chocolate he'd bought. "You?"
She opened hers. There were no chocolates only sugary sweets he detested and never bothered to learn the names of. "Not to your liking?" she asked.
"I can't stomach those things, way too sweet."
"Then I won't have to worry about you stealing mine," she replied with a slight bounce to her step.
He hurried after. "You didn't get any chocolate?"
"No," she replied matter-of-factly.
He frowned. "But I thought you liked chocolates."
"I do," she answered.
He shook his head. "Then why didn't you take any."
"Because you like it." Her answer was as cryptic as his mother's and Lily's.
"What does that have to do with what you buy?"
She stopped, forcing him to halt beside. "Simple." She reached out, flipped open his bag, and dipped a hand into it. She then proceeded to draw out one of his frogs and bit off a leg with a satisfied smile. "I just knew yours would taste better."
He narrowed his eyes. "Evil."
She smirked. "I do try."
He reached out, using all the skills of a Seeker he cold muster, and grabbed the frog back and chomped off the head.
"Thief!" she cried out while madly attempting to grab it back.
He stepped back and promptly chomped of a leg. "It's my frog," he proclaimed before finishing the remainder.
She made to stomp on his foot, but quick shuffling saved his toes from her wrath. "Cheat."
"Delicious," he taunted while being more than careful to ensure the bag's safety.
She made another swipe for the bag, but he dodged again and took off for the Quidditch shop. That only elicited another giggle as she wiped some melted chocolate from her lips. "Those frogs really are good."
He pushed open the front door and a bell announced his arrival. Lydia bumped into him from behind, probably not expecting him to suddenly move so slowly. Save for the friendly old man behind the counter the stored proved empty. The man had owned this store for close to thirty years, and the only time he had been away was during the war when James' mother had been at school. James immediately felt at home, the store smelt like fresh leather and oiled wood. A good combination for any Quidditch player. Lydia appeared to have taken a deep breath as well.
"Morning, sir," James greeted. The man was one of the few people in the world who knew who James' parents were. He was freakish, he was almost to a broom what Ollivander was to a wand. The only real difference was that the store owner never made his own brooms.
"Good morning, Mr. Dursley, Miss. Walker," the man replied back. "Just call me when you need some help."
"We will," James replied.
"Is he always that friendly to you?" Lydia asked in a whisper when they were out of sight. "I usually just get a stiff nod and a few prods in the right direction."
James rubbed his neck. The reasons for the friendliness was not something he could really explain. "I just spend a lot of time in here and I've helped him with inventory and stuff."
"When?" she asked, surprised.
"I… um… did some work here last summer." He could hardly say that he helped deliver new brooms and other equipment for Uncle Ron because his sons were too lazy to do their jobs.
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I wish I'd thought of doing something like that."
He thanked the stars for his luck as they walked down the first aisle. There wasn't much too see. A few Quaffles, some Bludgers and a couple of Snitches. The aisle, however, led them to where they really wanted to be, the brooms. If the store excelled at stocking one thing then it was brooms. All the best were here. Where there were students there were always wealthy parents.
Lydia interrupted his thoughts. "It's frustrating to see the worst players with the best brooms when I…" She ducked her head. "Well… I guess you noticed."
"A Nimbus Mark IIb," he replied. "Not a bad broom but more than a few generations behind what most students use these days."
"Not to mention a class below." Her mood seemed dampened.
He swallowed, he'd tried to avoid the topic of her broom. The Nimbus Mark series was rather entry level. "But can you fly that broom!" he tried to encourage.
It proved a pleasant surprise to see her eyes sparkling in his direction after the compliment. Being a boy he couldn't stop the slightly foppish grin.
"Thank you," she whispered, but the words faded away as he fixated on a small spot of chocolate stuck to the corner of her lips. "What?" Her voice self-conscious.
He probably should have said something, but his mouth hardly worked at the best of times. His arm lifted and his right hand cupped her cheek. Her body stiffened beneath his hand and her face turned a shade of scarlet. He let his thumb gently caress the offending chocolate from her lips. Her breath caught at the unfamiliar contact. He leaned towards her and pressed his lips against hers. Her body tensed and he knew the madness of the action would haunt him until his dying day.
He pulled away slowly, hand still resting on her cheek as he savoured a touch he would not feel again. "Lydia… I… you… know…" He coughed softly to clear the non-existent obstruction in his throat.
He waited for a slap or cry of outrage, instead a pair of arms wrapped around his neck before pulling him down. This time the kiss lasted longer and gradually grew more intense. Who would have thought that his first and second kiss would in a Quidditch store? He almost laughed, but his mind soon melted into bliss with nothing but Lydia's closeness and soft lips registering.
Someone loudly cleared their throat and the dream ended. He leapt out of her arms and she practically jumped into the next aisle. "Oh… sorry, sir… we were just. Admiring the wonderful collection."
"Despite the years on these eyes I could clearly see what it was that you were admiring." The man actually laughed. "And to think I wandered down to ask if there was a specific broom the young lady would be interested in."
"We were only looking," she replied. "You know I can't afford the brooms on display." Then she eyed James. "Do you need anything?"
The man chuckled. "Mr. Dursley doesn't need to worry about brooms, Miss. Walker."
Lydia nodded, almost angry at herself for the stupid question. "Right, sponsored."
James rubbed his neck awkwardly. There was a slight difference between sponsorship and ownership, but from the world's perspective at the moment it was that same.
"Um… sir," James cleared his throat a plan forming in his mind. "What broom would you say fits Lydia?"
She shuffled a bit awkwardly. "James, there is no point in going through this."
"Of course we do, Miss," the man quickly brushed her hesitation aside. His eyes held a knowing look James often saw shared between his parents. "The store is still quiet and finding the right broom is always exciting, is it not?" The owner dropped his hand into a pocket and removed a measuring tape. It opened and immediately began to go about its business.
"You are just wasting your time on me." Lydia kept on protesting, but raised her arms at the measuring tape's rather forceful shoves.
After a few careful measurements and some consideration the tape dropped to the ground. The store owner scratched his chin, his eyes unfocused in thought. This was not for show, the man worked hard to determine a broom that would bring out the best in any player. Too nimble and an amateur would fall. Too fast and a person would crash. Too slow would hold a flyer back. Then you had to consider the broom's length, the weight and probably a dozen things James didn't even know about. He realised it was something he would need to discuss with his mother at some point.
"You play Chaser?" the owner asked, eyes closing.
"Yes."
"A difficult set of permutations you present, Miss. Walker." His eyes fluttered open and his gaze took a moment to focus. "From the current stock I would think that a Potter Series Two would work well, anything from a Two-One to the newest Two-Five."
Lydia gasped. "Those brooms are almost unheard of and cost a fortune." Her lips began to move rapidly. "There is just no way I'll ever be getting something so expensive. Couldn't you find me a broom that costs at least a twentieth of the price? I mean there has to be something. My mother already broke the bank years ago to get my wand and my father had to work overtime to..."
James blinked and lost track of the words leaving her mouth. He hadn't expected her broom to be the same as his. The Potter Series One and Three were more common and the Nimbus N Series generally fitted most professional players better. If he had not known the owner better James would have thought the man had lied, but like Ollivander he was brutally honest when budgets didn't matter.
"Um… sir, isn't that third spare broom of mine in the back?" James asked, he knew there was no such thing, but one could be sent over in a minute by Portkey.
The owner looked thoughtful then hurried into the back of the store.
"James," Lydia said seriously.
He laughed nervously. "Well… you know… I already have two of those and they sent me a third. Idiot! What would I be needing with three brooms," he scoffed while hoping the charade would work.
"And?" she pushed.
"Well since he thinks it will work well for you I thought that maybe… you know… you would like to have it."
"I can't take your sponsored broom!" she protested loudly.
"Well, the contract states that I can do with them as I please and I already have two in my dorm. It would be a waste to just let the broom lie around."
The owner shuffled back into the view, this time holding a wooden box under his arm. "Shipped right from the maker, masterful creations these. Handmade, these are."
He held out the box to James who took it casually before handing it over to Lydia. "Think of it as an early Christmas gift."
Her eyes grew intense as she stared at him. "Are you crazy? No, you are barmy!"
The owner shook his head and it seemed to soothe her slightly. "No, Miss. He is more than entitled to give you the broom."
Lydia glared, but it held no malice. "Do other people do this with their brooms?"
"James is different from other sponsored players. I hope you enjoy the broom." With that he turned and walked back to his counter and disappeared into the back.
She looked conflicted. So he took a deep breath and said, "Look, Lydia. When you get to know me for long enough then you will learn that giving you this broom is nothing special."
She scoffed at the idea. "You just gave me one of the world's most expensive brooms. Only professionals get brooms like these and this is up there with the best. They're handmade for Merlin's sake."
He decided the focus needed to change. "Do you want to go fly?" he asked. "I should probably give you a couple of pointers."
"I do know how to use a broom," she stated, eyes lingering on the box again.
He nodded. "I know you do, but there are a few things that you should understand about the flight characteristics of that specific broom."
Her expression grew so eager it almost frightened him. That was all the encouragement he needed. Within half-an-hour he stood waiting by the pitch wearing non-descript gear. If his obsessed Uncle had his way then James would always be wearing orange.
Lydia arrived a few minutes later wearing her Ravenclaw Uniform. The broom remained in the dark wood box. She raised an eyebrow. "Orange? Really?"
"Hey!" he protested. "No bad mouthing my team. It's not like I go about bashing the Harpies." Merlin forbid he did, between his mother and Grandmother Gwenog he'd been skinned alive.
Her hand touched his cheek. "You've gone awfully pale. Are you sick?"
"Just had a bad mental picture."
"Were you thinking evil thoughts about the Harpies?" She asked slyly.
"No!" he shrieked. "No," this time more calmly. "I actually love the Harpies."
She snorted. "You probably like that swimsuit calendar."
He shook his head vigorously. His mother had been in those and he'd been forced to charm the one in their dorm to never show December. "Definitely not that."
Of course she didn't believe him. "So are we going to start this?"
James, thankful to move the conversation away from his mother in a two piece swimsuit, eagerly summoned the broom beside him into his outstretched hand. "The sooner the better."
She unclipped the latches on the box and reverently removed the broom. The untouched wood still gleamed in the sunlight. She gasped. "Is that?"
She twisted than handle to show him the golden lettering on the side. Her name had been written onto the wood. James whistled. "He can do those Charms quickly."
Her fingers gently brushed over her name. "It feels…"
"It feels like your broom now, doesn't it." She gave the briefest of acknowledgments. "Before we start I just want to go over a few things." He had her full attention and he once again realised that she indeed belonged to Ravenclaw. They all loved lectures. "Reviews don't really do this broom justice. But I am sure you know that it is something… um different."
"Professional brooms are special with the best Charms."
"Yes and no," James continued while trying hard to remember his father discussing the characteristics of the broom. "The speed Charms yes, but rest are just different. Unlike school grade brooms that are stable and easy to fly professional brooms are unstable and difficult to fly. Stability means a broom wants to fly straight and level. This characteristic means they are slow to change direction. Professional brooms are unstable and hence like to change direction. A lot of your effort will now go into keeping your broom steady and not on turning. It's a similar philosophy used by Muggle aircraft. Passenger craft are stable, the newest fighters are unstable and actually require fancy Muggle technology to keep the things flying level."
"You lost me there, James." She admitted sheepishly. "What's a passenger…"
"Never mind," he interjected. "Forget I mentioned those. Too much information, right?"
She gave a small nod and her lips thinned in concentration. "So those tight turns are about the broom?"
"Yes, but if you give a Potter Two-Five to a pathetic flyer then he'll just crash and break a leg. The Potter One Series has all the speed of the Two, but is stable. It's marketed as the One since people think it's the best and buy it for their kids. It is also used a lot in the Second and Third Divisions. The Three Series is the normal stable and slower broom and basically the upper range of what a School kid should use. The Four and Five series are just cheaper models with fewer charms."
"But League players that use Potter also use the One Series."
James dismissed her words. "No, it's just marketing. They actually use the Two series." He grinned manically. "The unstable and fast broom. A broom reviewers hate because they're not good enough to actually fly it."
Lydia actually paled. "Are you sure this is a good broom for me then?"
James shrugged and climbed onto his broom. "I guess we'll have to find that out for ourselves."
She mounted her new broom and it twitched beneath her. "Merlin! I swear this thing is alive." She couldn't even look up at him. "How do you keep yours so still?"
"Practise. Like I said these brooms want to move about."
Lydia nodded. "I can see what the reviewers were complaining about. It feels possessed."
"Push up slowly and focus on going straight… and relax." Her knuckles went white. "Try to not fight the thing too hard."
She tried, he could tell she did, but within another few heartbeats the broom had flipped her upside down and a piercing, "James!" broke the silence over the pitch.
He tried to not chuckle. "I said don't fight it, that doesn't mean you can relinquish control."
She righted herself with a little bit of effort. "How the bloody hell do they fly these things with no hands?"
James shrugged, he still struggled with that himself. "Experience I guess."
She noticed that he still held the broom with one hand. "You can't let go either?"
His face reddened with embarrassment. "No."
"Forgive me, but that does make me feel… whaah!" she screamed as the broom whipped her around and unceremoniously dumped her on the ground. Luckily they had barely left the ground and this time he burst out laughing.
She quickly leapt onto the back of her broom and drifted into the air. "That… was… not… funny!"
"No… of course not," he managed between chuckles.
Her eyes narrowed. "You'll pay for that one day, Dursley!"
The words sobered him right quickly. Seeing that she was as stable after a few minutes as he was in a week meant that her threat carried more than a little weight. "You seem to be getting the hang of it quickly."
"Quickly?" She jerked about again, but not nearly as violently as before. "We've been up here for almost twenty minutes already."
"Well you're doing great, trust me."
She smiled and her face relaxed. He noticed the slight shift of her hand. Lydia rocketed sideways and slammed into him. They landed in a tangled heap. "Great, huh?" she asked.
With her on top he barely managed a feint. "Brilliant."
"I thought so" she pressed her lips against his. This time no shop keeper interrupted and James was glad of it.
Two Weeks Later
Ginny wrapped a dull brown cloak around her. It was cold this far north. It brought back fond memories of flying in the freezing winters of Scotland. Well the memories were not that wonderful, but icy sessions in the sky had proven better than most of her times here.
"Hermione," she greeted the Headmistress and sister-in-law who'd taken over the arduous task of running the school from McGonagall who decided that she preferred being the Head of Gryffindor and Deputy-Headmistress.
Hermione met her at the gate and gave a hug in greeting. The stiff and formal Headmistress persona immediately kicked in again. Even her voice changed. "How are you doing, Ginny?"
"Been better. As I'm sure you're aware of, the team is struggling."
"I guess that is why you are here to see Miss. Walker." Ginny made a face to show Hermione that she had been spouting the obvious. "And how is Harry doing after coming to see me?"
Ginny shivered. "The same old troubles as usual, but he's made some progress with the books you've lent him."
Hermione had that troubled look. "I must say I do not like the topics he wished to learn about." The woman shivered. "Dreadfully dark."
Ginny didn't much care for either. "He's got to understand what they're capable of."
"I sometimes wonder about that philosophy. Is the threat so great?" Hermione asked as the pair began to walk towards the Quidditch stadium.
The packed stands were awash with the noise of cheering students, the merriment of which lifted both their spirits. But the question remained. "I'm not sure, but he looks more troubled now that Draco is stirring even if the man's actions are legal."
Hermione touched her forehead as if remembering a severe pain. "Yes, he has been giving me a headache. He secured his father's seat on the School Board before the Ministry could remove the Malfoys. Ancient laws have more than a few shortcomings."
Ginny winced. "Good luck with that."
"Yes," Hermione sighed. "Sometimes I wish Dumbledore had done more."
"Even he only had so much power."
"I wish that had not been so. I struggle even with all the strings I can pull within the Ministry. Sometimes I wonder how he ever managed so much."
Hermione led Ginny up the winding wooden staircase to the Professors' box. The disguise Ginny wore was so obvious most Professors saw through it immediately, but they knew to keep things discreet. A few barely audible hellos were exchanged before she managed to find a seat. Hermione's timing was perfect as always as the whistle blew barely a minute after they arrived.
Ginny wrapped the cloak tighter around her body as the game slowly began to pick up speed, or as much as a school game could. It always proved hard to believe that she too had flown so slowly. If there had been any doubt about her lack of pace then the memory of Harry defeating her a few dozen times acted as a reminder.
"Are you only looking at Miss. Walker?" Hermione asked after Lydia scored the first goal of the game.
"Yes," Ginny answered truthfully. "But I need to get a good feel of the game to see if she has what it takes."
Hermione faced the game allowing Ginny to focus on a potential Harpy. Lydia's flying was quick and sharp, but she would still require a lot of refinement, a lot. Ginny had heard rumours that the girl had managed to get her hands on a Potter Series Two broom and the twitchiness proved as much. Ginny leaned forwards and rested her elbows on her thighs. It proved difficult to determine just how good the Chaser really was. Being in partial control of a Two Series helped. The dreadful Ravenclaw team, however, did not help Lydia's cause.
Ginny chewed her lip. She would need to have a good talk to Lily and James to find out how Gryffindor managed to allow Ravenclaw to outscore them by a hundred forty. The current game followed a downward spiral that would've turned into a Ravenclaw rout had Lydia not battle the Slytherins alone. Ginny winced knowing the girl would be battered and bruised for a few days. The misery finally ended when the Slytherin Seeker caught the Snitch. Ravenclaw had lost by only one hundred and seventy. A miracle considering the state of Ravenclaw's other two Chasers.
The Professors stood, a few had gleeful smiles the rest looked mournful. Despite the years few older people liked Slytherin. Ginny waited a moment for them to pass and then began the descent down the tower.
"I'm sorry that the game proved disappointing," Hermione tried to make conversation as they walked.
"It's not so bad," Ginny replied. "You get to see a different part of a person's game when they get thumped."
"And?" Hermione pushed as she usually did after one of the scouting sessions. As Headmistress, Hermione always wanted her students to succeed.
Ginny bit her lip. "It's still going to take a lot more thought."
Hermione understood. "Do you want to come up for some tea? I am sure James and Lily would like to see you."
She looked up at her old friend. Her mind still on the game. "What? Oh… tea? No I need to go home to think about the game." Harry's Pensieve would come in handy once again.
"Are you sure? They really do miss you," Hermione smiled and Ginny immediately crumbled. The Headmistress grinned in triumph. "I'll call them as soon as we reach the office."
"Thank you," Ginny said, meaning it. Work interfered with family life too often to let this opportunity slide.
They strode briskly. "Are you at least considering the girl?"
Ginny gave a non-committal shrug. "It's all about fit in the end of the day. Even if she were the best flyer ever she would need to be able to work in a team. And there are other options open to me."
Hermione new the game well enough these days. "And there was no team work today."
"None," Ginny answered with a helpless smile.
Once in the office only Lily replied to the invitation to spend time with Ginny.
Lydia reached the school after spending over an hour in the shower. Her shoulders had sagged and she stumbled along the pathway.
"How do you feel?" James asked.
She looked up to see him waiting by the bench. She flopped down beside him and leaned forwards to bury her head in her hands "Horrible! Merlin forbid there were scouts today."
An arm wound around her waist and pulled her close. "None that I could see."
When they pulled apart she noticed the slight guilty expression in his eyes. "Are you lying to me, James?"
"No, no scouts." He rubbed the back of his neck.
She let the words slide and rested her head on his shoulder "The score will still tell them that we're hopeless."
"They don't look at school scores." He spoke matter-of-factly.
She turned to him. "And why would they not look at the scores?"
"Unreliable, they identify players then come watch. It's the only way too be sure."
"Still, after today they won't even bother to come look at the Ravenclaw Hufflepuff game next term."
He slipped his hand into hers. "Well at least you can look forward to a warm dinner."
"Will you be there?"
"Of course," he answered with a smile.
"Then it will be bearable, because the moment I walk into that hall the entire school is going to start laughing and pointing."
"We could always just go down to the kitchens," he offered in a slightly unsure voice.
She stopped mid-step. "Wait, you know where the kitchens are?"
He halted as well and ran a hand through his hair. "Um… sort of."
Her hands rested on her hips. "How on earth did you find that out?"
He opened his mouth then closed it again. "That's not really my story to tell, I'm sorry."
A growling stomach and fatigue drove the argument out of her. "I'm coming to realise that you are quite the mystery, James." She sighed. "At the moment, though, I want nothing more than a warm meal away from prying eyes."
"That I can definitely supply."
"You or the house elves?"
"Hey, at least I can lead you to the wondrous world of the elves beneath the Greatest of Halls." He gestured grandly.
She rolled her eyes. "Just lead the way Mr. Dramatic. And don't think this gets you out of the holes you're digging for yourself."
He grimaced, but kept up the façade. "Why thank you, Miss. Walker." He took a few more steps, then his voice grew slightly serious. "But I must ask that you don't share this."
"Why would I give away a secret location where I could go to eat in peace?"
He harrumphed. "Good point."
She followed him down various passageways until he stopped before picture of a bowl of fruit. He glanced up and down the corridor then reached out and tickled one of the pears, actually tickled it. She opened her mouth to say something, but before a single syllable could be uttered a door opened.
"Ladies first." James gestured her through.
She stepped into a world of organised chaos filled with little house elves scurrying about. "This is…"
"The definition of barmy, I know," he said. "But they are quite entertaining to watch."
It took less than a minute to be seated and food to be piled before them. With hunger ruling they dug into the food without talking.
When they finally finished their meals she sat with a glass of water staring at James. "You really don't add up, you know?"
James choked on his milkshake. "Add up?" he coughed out "What do you mean?"
"You only arrive at Hogwarts, what, two and bit years ago, yet you're the only person I know who knows how to get into the kitchens. You're a Muggleborn, but know a lot about Magic and you don't make the same mistakes as other Muggleborns."
"How long have you been studying me, Miss. Walker?" he questioned.
"No, but spending every available hour with you during the past weeks has helped. So what is your story?" She leaned closer to him.
He avoided eye contact and sipped desperately at his milkshake in a hopeless attempt to stall for time. At least it confirmed that his ability to lie was non-existent.
"Umm… well," he stammered.
She clapped her hands together. "I knew it."
He sagged in defeat. "It's nothing bad, really." His voice had grown soft and he looked imploringly at her with his blue eyes.
Lydia thought for a moment, not really liking this. "You're going to tell me eventually?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Not before the year ends..."
Her lips thinned and he immediately held up a hand to stall her reply. "I need to talk to… well… I need to make sure… um… it's complicated…"
"It sounds like you need permission," she stated.
"I don't need permission," he replied honestly. "But I would prefer to get all my ducks in a row before quaking."
The laugh burst forth without thought. "Quacking?" He blushed, but remained silent and waited for her giggles to subside. "Fine, James. Just don't expect me to wait forever."
"This summer, I promise."
She considered his offer. "You'd better. Lies are not conducive to a relationship."
James leaned window frame, staring out at stars from the Gryffindor Common Room. The cold dreariness of winter had set in with a vengeance after the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match. Snowfalls were more regular and the temperature seemed to be permanently below freezing. It made flying impractical and honestly unenjoyable.
"Itching to go fly?" Lily asked from the cosy seat before the fire.
He turned. She was reading a book, one leg draped over the armrest. Other students sat scattered about the Common Room. Most chatted quietly with only a few working on their studies He pushed away from the cold stone to join her by the fire's warmth.
"No." He answered truthfully. "Too bloody cold."
"Last year you were arguing with the professors to let you practise." She casually flipped a page. "I do wonder what could have changed."
He flopped into a comfortable wingback chair. "There is that." Lily's head snapped up with surprise. "What?" he asked. "I can only deny it so long."
She smirked. "But I expected you to keep on denying it."
He groaned. "Is there really any point?"
"None really, but I'm still surprised you're admitting it."
He reached up and touched the metal necklace around his neck. "You still got yours?"
Lily nodded. "I'd end up grounded for the summer for leaving it lying about."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Dad's really paranoid about it."
"Can you blame him?" She pulled out her necklace with a small emerald pendant. "If even half the stories I've heard from Uncle Ron are true then…" her words trailed off.
"Well those times are over, luckily."
"Lucky us." Lily looked mournfully at her pendant.
He understood. There were so many things they experienced as children that their father never had. They attended a school and grew up with friends, albeit Muggles. They were free from evil monsters and were never once in the public eye.
She forced a smile, probably thinking along the same lines. He really wanted to spend time in Daigon Alley with their mother and father. They'd gone of course, but disguised. Sometimes all he really wanted was to be a Potter and not a Dursley. It might make him arrogant and selfish, but he really wanted to brag about their parents, every kid did.
She glanced down at her Muggle watch. Magical ones made absolutely no sense to either of them. Her face morphed into a somewhat mischievous grin that came from having Weasley blood. "You, my dear brother, are in terrible danger of being late?"
He shook his head, not taking her bait. "I've got a few more minutes."
Lily crossed her arms and huffed. "And if she's early?"
He groaned. At the moment he didn't feel like playing games. "Alright. I get it, already."
Her focus returned to the book. He left the warmth of the Common Room to endure the harsh cold of the corridors. It proved almost enough to abandon the evening rendezvous with Lydia. But, he smiled, there was warmth to be found with Lydia.
He found Lydia twirling hair around her fingers, an unconscious habit he'd noticed. "Sorry for making you wait." He felt stupid as Lily had been right and Lydia had been waiting. "Even with Lily hurrying me out the dorm, I'm still late."
She dropped her hair and returned his smiled. "Well you're still early, I was just earlier."
"Be that as it may, I should've been here earlier."
Lydia giggled then stood on her tiptoes to give him a welcome peck on the lips. "Are you planning on sulking about being late?"
He looked down, ashamed. "No."
"Good, then we can relax and spend time together." Her eyes softened as if she could read the problems he'd been thinking about. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Yes." The word flowed out before his mind could register the reply.
She waited expectantly, but eventually her expression morphed into understanding and acceptance. "Does this have to do with what you won't tell me until summer?"
He nodded. "Mostly that is."
She sighed and he could tell the secrets bothered her. "Any plans for this freezing evening?"
He dug his hands into his pockets. "I've got nothing."
She shook her head. "And to think my fellow Ravenclaws are jealous."
He felt even worse. "Sorry."
She wrapped her arms around his and leaned against his shoulder. "Just teasing." She admitted. "I'm more than happy to wander the halls with you."
He tried hard to hide his surprise. He'd made a point of planning things to do, but tonight his thoughts had drifted too far. "You mean you don't mind not doing something special?"
Her lips parted into a warm smile. "It's nice being spoiled, but sometimes it's nice to just be together. Besides, holding hands with you is special."
He wove his fingers into hers. "Where would you like to wander tonight?"
An hour later, after walking aimlessly and discussing everything and nothing at length they passed the famous tapestry of a man teaching trolls to dance. Lydia shivered. "Sorry, I just realised how cold it is up here."
James gave a triumphant smile. "That just happens to be something I can fix."
She snorted. "You can't conjure to save your life and you are horrible at warming Charms."
"Hey!" he protested.
"Besides, nothing short of tropical beach would do now."
He grinned and began pacing up and down. She eyed him curiously, but Lydia had learned trip to the kitchens to not ask questions. A door appeared and he gestured her through.
"Seriously?" she muttered. "A tropical beach?"
He smiled. "That's what you desired."
"Why am I even surprised?" she said. "I assume this comes from the same source as the kitchens."
He nodded. "My informants are rather well informed about Hogwarts."
Her finger stabbed him in the stomach. "We are going to have a long talk the moment I get you alone this summer, Dursley."
Ginny was beginning to feel very sorry for the scrunched up scarf held in the clutches of her white knuckled right hand. The Harpies were floundering, so much so that her Seeker would need to catch the Snitch within the half-hour if they were to stay within touch of the Magpies.
"Fly in formation," she growled up at the sky despite knowing her Chasers would never be able to hear. This was the one thing she never really noticed as a player, but as a coach confronted all too many times. The moment the team left the changing room the game was out of the coaches' hands.
"Tough season so far?" the familiar voice of Gwenog asked.
Ginny snorted. "One of the worst."
"You've won some of your games at least," the former coach and semi-mother-in-law replied. "And the other teams struggled so you'll make it through to the semi."
"I don't like winning from behind," Ginny said in an angry voice. "It makes it seem lucky."
"Having a skilled Seeker is nothing to be ashamed of, you know."
Ginny swivelled in her seat, forcing herself to look away from the game for the first time in almost two hours. Gwenog was dressed neatly in her usual Harpies attire, the woman was a fanatic after all. "I know, but you know."
The older woman smiled. "I know." There was a moment's silence broken only by the joyful cheers from the few Magpie supporters in the Harpies stadium. "I assume you have been scouting lately."
Ginny nodded. "I was at Hogwarts a few weeks back. There's a young girl I've taken an interest in."
"Lydia?" Gwenog questioned. Ginny raised an eyebrow. "I do like to remain in the loop, but I am surprised you're not looking at the other leagues. There are some experienced players there."
It was an argument Ginny had debated long and hard with herself. It also included hours of watching replays. "I haven't seen anyone in the Second Division that can replace one of these three."
"Their contracts expire this year, don't they?" Gwenog asked.
Ginny made no immediate reply. The woman obviously knew the answer. "I'm thinking of letting Annabel, Cressida and Zara go."
Gwenog tensed then relaxed. "All three Chasers. You never were one to shy away from hard choices." She laughed. "And they called me cold."
"But you aren't protesting," Ginny pointed out.
"Why would I?" the former coach answered. "They are all excellent flyers, but none of them want to work as part of a team."
"At least my Beaters make up for it."
"Cheryl and Agnes are the backbone of this team of yours and Sandra keeps everything together as Captain."
"And those three Chasers keep mucking up my perfection," Ginny grumbled. "They don't train hard, they don't listen… argh."
Gwenog shook her head. The woman had as much hate for laziness as Ginny. "Any ideas who the new three are going to be? They must be from the League then."
Ginny glanced around her to make sure no one was nearby. "I've got newbies Elisabeth and Claire signed up already. I am just waiting for Jocelyn."
The older woman let out a soft whistle. "You really are going young with the first two. Elisabeth from the Cannons, that'll make Victoria happy. Claire from the Arrows and Jocelyn from the Falcons."
"I'm going to need the talent and experience of Jocelyn to help mould the team if I want to avoid this farce."
Gwenog made no argument. "They should work well together, but I'm surprised the two signed and that Jocelyn is considering the move."
"The Harpies has that allure. All women want to play for us."
Gwenog chuckled. "I'm not sure it's just to play for the Harpies."
"What else would it be?" Ginny asked.
"I think a lot of the younger women want to play for you, Ginny Potter the Legendary Seeker and Coach. The only player ever to have taken a Snitch away from Harry." The woman smiled at the memory. "And from right before his eyes."
Ginny blushed ashamedly. "It was our last cup final against one another and…"
Gwenog shook her head. "The man was in devastating form that year Ginny. You learned and applied that knowledge to not only take the fight to him but surpass him. People saw that."
"Doesn't change the fact that I'm nothing special."
"Doesn't it?" Gwenog continued. "Ever since your first year in the league. Dating and then marrying Harry. You became the most adored and hated, I must add, player in the league. The envy of every teenage girl." Gwenog smiled motherly. "You missed it, didn't you? You were too busy." Ginny had no reply. "Every young girl wanted to be you and even now that desire burns within the chests of hundreds of young witches and Muggle girls who know about Quidditch. Rooms are filled with posters of you. Even now the latest magazine has a full page photo of you and Harry."
Ginny scoffed. "That's just my brother..."
Gwenog shook her head. "No, he tries his best to keep you out of the limelight, but there just is something about you, and Harry I suppose, that people want to feel part of."
"I doubt they would want my life," Ginny said softly.
"But they don't know that side of your history. They only see the amazing, beautiful, Ginny Potter. The girl that won the League. The person who beat Harry."
They were still talking when the final whistle blew loudly. Ginny leapt to her feet having forgotten about the game. She sighed with relief at the reason for the whistle. Sandra had managed to take the Snitch, they had won by twenty points. A hollow win which was something her three Chasers never managed to understand.
"I should get to the players," Ginny stated. "It's a long walk from here."
Gwenog didn't protest as they said their farewells. As predicted it took almost ten minutes to reach the changing rooms. The crowds and endless corridors made life difficult at times.
When she finally made it Ginny didn't need to hide her frustration at the sight. Sandra looked exhausted as she sat in the changing room after the game. She wore her uniform and a few beads of sweat still trickled down her cheeks. She was, however, not the reason for Ginny's ire. "I guess Annabel, Cressida and Zara have already left." Sandra gave a tired nod and Ginny understood the feeling. "Looks like you need a rest."
"I'm fine," the young black haired Seeker replied. "I would've liked some more breathing room, but we got there in the end."
Ginny gritted her teeth. "You together with Cheryl and Agnes got us there in the end." Then she took a deep breath. "I should have mentioned this earlier, but I will not be renewing their contracts."
Sandra's nodded. "I thought as much." She pointed towards the showers. "Are you going to tell them?"
"Not yet, but they'll figure it out soon enough."
"Players in mind?" Sandra asked softly.
"They'll be young and inexperienced with one more experienced player."
Sandra leaned back against the wall, head tilted upwards. Her loose hair lay sprawled over her right shoulder. "Can't be worse, can it?"
Ginny sat opposite her. "It better not be."
"But that's not this season's worries is it?"
"No," Ginny answered. "But our biggest games are still coming. We've been fortunate to not loose every game."
Sandra sat motionless and neither did she say a word. They would be facing the Cannons and the Arrows next. The rest of the season was not looking too bright.
"The Cannons' game is a week after Christmas," Sandra said finally. "We'll know where we stand afterwards."
Ginny stood. "Shouldn't you be finishing off? There's no real point in having a team meeting at the moment is there?"
Sandra glanced up. "And why would I want to be going?"
"Don't you have a date with my nephew tonight?" She then changed her voice to mimic James when he was a toddler. "Little Art?"
Sandra straightened. "How did you know? And don't do that voice! And his name is Arthur."
"My family just can't keep their mouths shut." Then she shook her head. "My father is Arthur and Art is Art."
The Seeker chuckled. "Merlin I'm barmy for saying yes to that date."
"Don't worry. Art's been quite persistent. I think he joined Ron's magazine just to get to you."
The Seeker tried to hide her embarrassment. From what Ginny gathered the two really did like each other and their flirting had been going on for months already, but only time would tell if the woman could survive the family.
Ginny stood. "Well get moving."
A/N
Thank you once again to Sorcerer's Muse for the time and effort she put into helping with the content of the story. I think we managed to iron out some big wrinkles while also helping to improve my writing overall.
Thank you also for all the reviews. They really help make this worth the effort, so please take the time to leave a comment.