From the chaser tryouts, Harry picked up two decent chasers in the way of Malcom Baddock and Blaise, who blew through the competition. Theo was quickly eliminated and went to the bleachers to put his moves on the female admirers. By the time everyone was leaving the pitch, he was snogging some fourth year who Harry wasn't familiar with. Harry snorted, remembering Theo's quip on the train about how 'chicks dig Quidditch players'. Apparently he was right about that.
Draco glanced over at Harry, a mischievous look in his eyes. Both nodded, knowing exactly what to do. Walking up to Theo, they waited until the couple separated and turned to look at them.
"You know," Harry smirked "You could do a lot better then Theo here."
"He didn't even make it onto the Quidditch team, you know." Draco drawled superiorly.
The girl's face became furious as she slapped Theo in the face. "You liar! You told me you were made chaser!" And with that she stormed off, leaving Theo to glare at his friends.
"Oh yeah" Theo scowled "Very mature. Couldn't you two have just kept your mouths shut?"
"Well," Harry replied, barely containing his laughter "It seems that you couldn't."
Theo just didn't say anything and stormed off, leaving Draco and Harry on the pitch. Harry was torn between going to apologize to his friend, or leave him to sulk.
"He'll forgive us, eventually." Draco reassured Harry "It was just some fourth year. He'll forget her pretty soon, you know Theo."
"Yeah," Harry replied reluctantly "But that doesn't mean I don't get to feel bad about it…"
- - -
The next morning during breakfast, Theo didn't sit with Harry, Draco and Blaise.
"Serves him right…" Draco said haughtily "being such a stuck up jerk!"
Harry just shook his head. After Theo left last night, he had already regretted the decision to mess with him. And Draco wasn't helping.
"Hey, Harry!" Blaise said "When's the first practice?"
"Dunno." Harry replied truthfully. He hadn't scheduled practices with Slytherin's head of house yet. "I have to talk with Slughorn first. I'll let you know as soon as I do, okay?"
That was when the morning Owls soared into the great hall, dropping off their mail. Draco received his usual Daily Prophet, and Blaise got some supplies that he had ordered the previous week.
"Hey, Draco!" Blaise called past Harry "Can you pass the syrup? Draco?"
Without looking up, Draco slid the syrup over the table.
"Any interesting in the Prophet?" Harry asked, peering over at the paper. The picture on the fron page was of Draco's father and Minister Fudge shaking hands cordially in front of a building.
"Father bought the ministry a new Auror's office building in Diagon Alley" Draco responded. "He's been working on this since we went to Albania for the summer. He's trying to get a position on the Hogwart Governor's commission. Had to keep it quiet, you know how it is…"
Harry nodded, scanning the article over Draco's shoulder. Ever since he knew what his father did for a living, he wanted to be an Auror as well. Even though he hated being compared to his father, it seemed irrevocably to be in his blood.
"I don't see my father in the photo." Harry smirked "I bet he wasn't happy about being kept out of the loop."
"Yeah." Draco drawled. "It's surprising how well we can get along when our parents hate each other so much."
"We're not our parents." Harry replied. "And I hope we never will be."
- - -
"I hate that bloody bastard!" Harry's father exploded, pacing up and down the kitchen.
"James!" Lily snapped, tilting her head at Harry.
"Sorry, Lils." James sighed. "I just can't stand the man! He's got it out for me!"
"Why?" Harry asked "Mr. Malfoy's always nice to me…"
"That's just because you're my son." Harry's father snapped, ignoring his wife's warnings. "He can't get enough of famous people!"
"But then, why doesn't he like you?" Harry asked, completely bewildered.
"It's complicated…" James told his son, sighing. "Maybe I'll be able to explain when you're older…"
Harry just sat in his chair and frowned. He hated it when his father would try to explain something, then give up. Didn't he think Harry was capable of understanding?
- - -
"Ah, come in, Mr. Potter!" Professor Slughorn beamed, waving him into the room. Harry stepped into the Potion Master's office, and sat down in the chair, waiting expectantly. He had received a note from the Professor at breakfast, asking to meet with him during his free period. "I have wonderful news!"
"Oh?" Harry asked. When Slughorn had good news, it usually was - a lifetime of valuable connections meant that he received a wide variety of gifts from his colleagues.
"One second…" Slughorn bent down behind his desk, rummaging through the piles of boxes filled with trinkets. With a soft 'Ah!' he straightened, holding an elegant mask in his hand, vaguely reminiscent of a goat.
"A mask, sir?" Harry asked, bewildered. Why would the Professor bring him down here for a mask?
"Yes!" The old potions master seemed to be gushing with enthusiasm. "An old student of mine, Bertie Vance, brilliant student by the way… just came up with these wonderful masks. Watch!" Putting it onto his face, there was a swish and a whirring noise, and suddenly the professor was dressed in an elegant costume that matched the mask perfectly.
"Transfiguration, sir?" Harry asked, his jaw slack in surprise.
"Yes, my boy!" Slughorn clapped. "This is just a test one he sent me. I was so impressed, I bought enough for the entire Slug Club; at a reasonable discount, of course. We'll be having a Masque Ball on Halloween!"
"That's excellent, sir!" Harry beamed. Usually, he found the Slug Clubs to be a bit dull. The food was nice, but most of the people were pretty boring after a while. The only one worth paying attention to was Granger - she always had something interesting she read, despite how annoying she could be when reporting it.
"Yes! I know!" The Professor beamed, removing the mask, and allowing it to fade. "The transfiguration lasts for only about 4 hours, so we'll host it from 8 to 12."
"But why meet with me specifically sir?" Harry asked, still a little confused as to why he was here.
"Ah, down to business…" Slughorn sighed contentedly, placing the wondrous trinket back in its box. "I wish to know what schedule you're planning for Quidditch - our first game is against Gryffindor, you know."
Sitting back in the chair, Harry went over it in his head. When were they going to have practice ?"Well, since we've got Baddock, we can't do Thursday evenings - he's got Astronomy then. And the rest of us all have Astronomy on Tuesday - except for Montague - he dropped it… Maybe Mondays and Wednesdays then, until the next game? And we'll try to get some training in on the weekends, but we shouldn't need the pitch for that."
"Excellent! I'll take that to the professor's meeting." Slughorn replied. "Which, I do believe I'm late to. So if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your free period."
Harry nodded, and followed the professor out of the office. Turning out of the dungeons, Harry went straight for the Library. He needed to take care of a Transfiguration essay if he wanted to be able to practice with the team on Wednesday.
- - -
As soon as he entered the library, Harry immediately noticed Granger. Funny, he thought, how he never noticed that she had the same free period. He just shrugged, and racked it up to years of making fun of her with Malfoy.
Grabbing a table, Harry sat down and got out his work. First some parchment, then his copy of Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5. But when he went to pull out a quill, Harry was unable to find one. Frantically searching through his bag, he noticed only too late that there was a hole in it. Harry sighed. If he didn't take care of the essay during free period, he'd have to stay up all night after practice. But there weren't any Slytherin students to borrow a quill from. Only Granger. Gritting his teeth, Harry got up. There was no way he could miss doing the essay now.
"Granger" Harry hissed as he approached the table. "I need to borrow a quill."
"You could at least say please." She whispered back, smirking slightly. Yet, unlike when Malfoy did it, her smirk was not unpleasant at all. Still, Harry couldn't help but annoyed by her holding it over him.
"Fine"Harry snapped. "May I please borrow a quill?"
"Sure." She smiled a wide smile - enough to show her teeth. Harry was immediately taken aback; unlike previous years, her teeth were straight and even - perfect.
"Malfoy'll be disappointed." Harry said, taking the quill gratefully. Hermione cocked her head, confused by his remark. "He spent all summer trying to come up with new tooth-based insults for you. His loss."
Hermione gave him a strange look. "I guess I could call that a compliment, coming from a Slytherin…"
"And I guess that I can take that as a thank you, coming from a Gryffindor." Harry replied, smirking. "I'll give you back the quill when I'm done, thanks." Almost reluctantly, Harry pulled away from the table. He had an essay to write.
- - -
"Mind if I sit here?" Harry poked his head into the compartment. All the other ones had been full, and Harry didn't know anyone in his year - his parents never really let him play with other wizarding kids. Sitting in the compartment was a redheaded boy and a girl with a wild mane of hair.
"Sure." The two chirped. Grinning, Harry threw his trunk under the seat, and sat down.
"Hi, I'm Harry." He said. "Harry Potter"
"Ron Weasley."
"Hermione Granger."
"Wait… you're a Potter?" Ron asked him. "Blimey! As in, James Potter, head of the Auror's Office? The man who defeated Voldemort?"
Harry nodded sheepishly. His parents never really liked talking about it.
"Wicked!" The boy exclaimed fascinated. Hermione turned to him, bewildered.
"Sorry, who?" She asked.
"Voldemort!" Ron explained to her. "He went around killing muggles and doing all kinds of nasty stuff… until Harry's dad fought him, that is."
Harry shrunk into his seat a little bit, trying to shrink away from the boy's story to the girl. Something was just… wrong about listening to the history of his family being told by a complete stranger. Maybe this was why his parents didn't let him play with kids from wizarding families that much…
The door slid open, and a pale boy with blonde hair stepped in, flanked by two much larger boys. "I heard Harry Potter was here." He stated simply.
"Who are you?" Ron asked, clearly upset that someone had interrupted him in the middle of his narrative.
"Well, it's easy to tell who you are." The boy smirked. "Red hair, freckles, second hand clothes, you must be a Weasley." Turning to Harry, he stuck out his hand. "I'm Draco Malfoy. I can help you pick out good friends from the riff raff…"
The cabin was silent, all eyes on Harry. He froze, frantically trying to think. Malfoy seemed a bit mean, but at least he didn't want to talk about his dad…
"Thanks." Harry said, taking Malfoy's hand, and shaking it. Both boys beamed as they left the cabin. It was going to be a fun train ride.
- - -
It didn't occur to Harry until hours later to return the quill to Granger. And while he wasn't exactly friends with her - it was impossible for a Slytherin to be a friend with a Gryffindor - something just felt wrong about keeping the quill. So, Harry set off down the halls, determined to find her. Immediately, he thought to look for her in the library; it seemed that she was always studying, so it was a good way to start.
And find her he did - arguing quietly with Weasley in a corner of the library. Smirking, he strode over. There was nothing he liked more than goading the imbecile.
"Jeez, Weasley." Harry drawled, mimicking Draco. "It seems every time I see you two together, you're always fighting. Way to be a man."
Ron whirled around furiously. "Nobody asked you to but in, Potter." He hissed. "Why are you here?"
"Oh, you know…" Harry sighed, casually inspecting his fingernails. "This and that. But the real question is, why aren't you out practicing? You're the worst keeper in the school and the…"
"Shut your bloody-" Ron started to bellow before Hermione elbowed him in the stomach.
"Shhhhhh!" She whispered furiously. "Both of you, stop it! You'll get us kicked out for sure!"
Ron stalked off without another word. "Thanks for shutting him up." Harry remarked casually.
"What was that for?" Hermione stopped whispering, almost as angry as the Weasel.
"Whoa, calm down there…" Harry replied, the smirk on his face. "I thought you'd be grateful for your quill back…" he dug into his bag, plucked it out, and placed it on the table in front of her.
Her face immediately softened "Thank you." She said. "But did you really need to get Ron so angry?"
"Need, no." Harry replied, grinning. "But messing with his is a favorite pastime."
That elicited a quick smile from Hermione. "He does get riled up pretty easily." She admitted. "But lay off of him, please?"
"No promises…" Harry replied. Checking the time on the clock, he noticed that it was time for practice. Nodding a quick goodbye, he hurried out of the library. It wouldn't be becoming of the Team Captain to be late for the first practice.
- - -
"All right!" Harry called out, looking at the team standing before him on the Quidditch pitch. "We've only got a few more practices until our match with Gryffindor, and I want us to be perfect. We'll be doing drills every Monday and Wednesday, and exercise on Saturdays."
"So…" Baddock said. "What do we do?"
"Montague." Harry said. "I want you to bet Blaise and Baddock here in the air, get some Chaser drills coming up. You three need to work like a team - Gryffindor's chasers are like machines. You need to be able to pass without looking, and know when to keep and when to give. We might not have it down by the Gryffindor game, but you three better be perfect for the second time around."
Nodding, the three kicked off from the ground, Montague with quaffle in hand.
"Crabbe. Goyle." Harry moved on. "I want you to practice making clean beats. We might not send the bludger in their faces every time, but I want you two to be able to do so without getting us a fowl. Malfoy and I'll get in the air. I want you two to try to send a bludger our way - but try to be sneaky about it. We'll be able to dodge because we're going to see it coming, but it'll be good practice for you."
After Harry released the bludgers, the four of them kicked off of the ground. Harry sighed contentedly - it was good to be playing Quidditch.
- - -
Over the next week before the Quidditch match, Harry was in a great mood. Which was probably why he didn't grab for his wand when he saw the entire Weasley population of Hogwarts alone with him in the hall. Before he knew it, he was cornered by all four of them.
While he may have been oblivious, he sure wasn't stupid, so Harry immediately went for his wand. All four of them got the drop on him, though, and he knew not to pull a wand when there were four at his throat.
"Watch it, Potter," One of the twins said.
"You don't want to get into an accident before our match." the other finished.
"Well," Harry stated as coolly as he could in his current situation "Since you haven't hexed me yet, I'm assuming that you have something to day to me."
"Yeah." Ron said. "I-"
"I'd put your wands down if I were you," a familiar drawl came from beyond the circle of red and freckles. "You're outnumbered."
The Weasleys broke ranks, and revealed that Malfoy had arrived with Crabbe and Goyle, as well as Blaise.
"Outnumbered?" Ron asked "It's four on -"
"Five" Harry replied, pulling out his wand with a fluid motion, leveling it at the Weaslette's head. "Next time, if you want to trash talk, leave the wands at home."
Harry stepped out of the ring of Gryffindors without looking back, pausing only to whisper a quiet thanks to Malfoy. If you were going to turn your back on an opponent, you never turn back. It implies weakness.
"See you on the pitch…" He called airily after himself, smirking slightly.
- - -
The entire Slytherin Quidditch team hunkered down in the locker room, all looking up at Harry. He gulped, pushing down the anxiety. It didn't matter that it was his first game as team captain - against Gryffindor, no less. No, it was just another game. Malfoy was still Keeper, and Harry was still seeker. Between the two of them, those crimson-and-gold dolts didn't have a chance.
"All right" Harry started uncomfortably, not too sure what to say. "First game of the year. Lucky us, we got paired up with the Gryffindorks."
That elicited a chuckle from the team, and Harry felt a rush of confidence.
"We don't have too many people out there cheering for us, but who needs them?" Harry asked, his team affirming enthusiastically. Harry smiled. Maybe he was starting to get a hang of this.
"All right." He said "Crabbe, Goyle, focus on taking out the chasers. I don't want to see Gryffindor score a single point." The two mountains of Quidditch players nodded dumbly.
"Blaise, Baddock, and Montague - rack up the score. We want to demolish them out there." Harry explained to the chasers. Like they needed explaining, anyways. "And watch out for the Weasley twins - they aren't above hitting our players like Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff."
"Malfoy." Harry turned to his best friend. "Keep your eyes open. Johnson's still mad that we won last year, so she'll be pulling out all the stops." Malfoy nodded, smirking.
"Those Gryffindorks have nothing on us!" He declared. As the entire team raucously voiced their agreement, Harry couldn't help but to feel another surge of confidence.
"Okay!" Harry exclaimed, finally feeling ready to play. "If you guys do your job, I'll do mine. Lets go kick their sorry arses!"
- - -
"Team Captains!" Hooch called out shrilly. Harry and Johnson flew up to the center of the pitch. "I want a fair game! Now, shake hands!"
Johnson stuck out her hand, and Harry grudgingly took it. But he was taken aback by how hard Angelina squeezed it. As quickly as he could, he snatched his hand back, glaring at Johnson who was smirking at him. Harry guessed it was some sort of captain tradition. Typical, Flint not warning him. But no wasn't time to sulk, Harry knew. It was time to play some Quidditch.
And the game exploded into a frenzy, the roar of the crowd almost overpowering Harry's senses But the cheering never stopped him before. Rising above the noise, he scanned the pitch for the snitch. Almost immediately, he spotted the Weaslette. Harry smirked - she was the school's worst seeker and everybody knew it. There was no way she'd get the snitch this game.
Looking at the quaffle game, it seemed that Gryffindor was leading slightly, 30-10. Harry knew this was going to happen - new chasers meant the small points game was bad. Which meant that the best possible outcome was for him to find the snitch.
Looking around, he thought he spied a glint of gold near the Gryffindor posts. Harry ambled over there slowly, doing his best not to attract the Weaslette's attention - she was still between him and what he saw.
Unfortunately, it turned out to be just a trick of the light. That was the worst part of playing Gryffindor - they wore so much gold, it was damn near impossible to find the snitch.
But then, Harry spotted it - a whirring ball just behind one of the Twins' heads. It wouldn't last there for long; Harry had to move before the Weaslette caught on. Leaning hard on his Firebolt, he sped towards the Gryffindor beater as quickly as he could.
Faintly, Harry could hear Lee Jordan, the announcer, scream into the mike "And Potter seems to have spotted something! Is it the snitch?" And the entire crowd erupted into roars. Harry smirked as he glanced back - the Weaslette was trailing far behind him.
His hand enclosed around the tiny ball of gold, just inches away from the Gryffindor's beater's face. And the twin's bat smashed hard into his. The world went black as Harry fell off of the back of his broom.
- - -
A.N.: This is going really great - I hope that I successfully complete this to the extent that I want to. Sorry about being slow with this chapter, though. Holiday stuff just piled on me (and then some), and it wasn't until this week that I was able to get back and finish this chapter. I'm really appreciative of all your support. You're all the reason why I continue to write this.
Sorry for the typical chapter of Quidditch - I tried to mix it up by having Harry laid out by something other than a bludger. Also, my copy of the Philosopher's Stone is missing right now, so I wasn't able to quote the Train Ride scene. I might go back and fix it if that passage looks really bad compared to JK's opus.
Shadow'sdawn: You don't need to worry about me accusing you of flaming me. Thank you for giving the kind of review that I've been waiting for since I started this fic! As nice as the short 'great fic, please continue' reviews are, I'm always looking for constructive criticism in reviews. I've tried to improve the flow as per your input for this chapter, is it better? Please, continue with the advice. I'll probably go back to previous chapters later once I've established the fic a bit. Probably after I finish 5th year arc.
I haven't had the opportunity to read the Alternate Tale yet, but I'll get around to it one of these days. It sounds quite interesting.
Jarno: You have to take into account a couple of things on Harry's dueling skills. He hasn't fought Voldemort at all, so is he supposed to be a master of combat having grown up as a normal child? Also, he was lashing out in anger, which effected his aim. He was focused more on hurting Ron than hitting him.
Slytherin's Pimp: He's not exactly the revenge-upon-parents type. He's more like the petulant kid who secretly swears that as soon as he's an adult, he will never see his parents ever again.