Harry Potter, Life's a Prophecy
Chapter 9
Quidditch, Plans and Complications
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his friends obey me... However, I don't own them. J.K. Rowling does.
Chapter Beta'd by: RPMcMurphy from 'Perfect Imagination
A week later #Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, Dragon Tryouts
Harry and everybody of the Dragon dorm who were interested in trying out for the newly sanctioned Dragon team were standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.
Harry, new and first Captain of the Dragon team, was holding a box, which held the usual Quidditch appliances, including spares.
Four Quaffles, eight Bludgers, about sixteen Beater bats, and of course two Snitches.
Just what you needed for an everyday Quidditch tryout, at least in Harry's opinion.
Harry had won the election of Quidditch Captain with ease. Not that there were many campaign rivals to begin with. At first, James had been interested in the position along with a few others, but when he and the others heard that Harry, the head himself, was looking for the position, he had known better than to interfere. Anybody who did received an unpleasant surprise to say the least, though looking back they were all happy about it in the end.
James always thought of himself as a really good Quidditch player, a natural even, but seeing a lost cause when it stared him in the face (that is, when he looked at himself in the mirror that morning), quickly retracted his application for Captain as soon as he saw Harry's name on the tryout list for Seeker. The rest soon followed. One look of Harry on a broom was enough to ensure that. It was quite a humbling experience to say the least. Harry was just a class for himself.
Harry, on his new 'state of the art' Nimbus 200, seemed to be able to make the most impossible turns and dives. It was almost as if he did not fear the ground…or death itself.
Of course, none of them knew that Harry had once owned a Firebolt, a broom so advanced it had not even been invented yet, or that he had already died once.
Indeed, when compared to a Firebolt, the new Nimbus 200 was, well in Harry's mind anyway, one word… dishonourable…usually. He was only currently using the Nimbus because that was the best there was at this time.
Harry's old broom from the future, the Firebolt, could have reached a top speed of 170 kilometres per hour. The Nimbus, however, only reached a meagre 60.
The Firebolt came equipped with multiple highly advanced charms on it. The Nimbus 200 had only the most basic. Hardly a challenge for Harry, until it came to remembering to brake in time. He even nearly fell asleep once, much to his embarrassment and amusement of the school (excluding the professors). The outcome was a small trip to the school nurse to fix a broken nose and a few scrapes which he received when he flew head first into one of the Herbology green houses, smashing through the glass when a class was in progress.
It became the primary discussion and school joke in the Great Hall for a week. Harry received a visit to the headmaster and a long detention afterwards. One which he took with amusement… it could have been a lot worse. Lucky for Harry, Dumbledore had been amused rather than angry.
Seeing Harry dive to the ground upside down using the broom's maximum speed of 60 kilometres per hour and rise back up into the air, still at 60, at the last possible second, Snitch firmly in hand, hair touching the grass, was enough to make all Dragon rivals throw their brooms away in utter disgust and defeat while most of the teachers gasped and clutched their hearts in fright… all but Thornton, who secretly hoped that Harry would break his neck.
After Harry's brief display of power, the support of the Dragons to the wonderboy from Hell (they had no idea) who they called their 'head of house' was just too huge to begin with anyway.
In fact, over the next few weeks quite a few professional Quidditch scouts came to offer Harry a place on their Quidditch teams, including the English, Irish, and Bulgarian teams, but to everybody's surprise, which resulted in a few near heart attacks and Harry's complete remorse, he declined each time.
He had a job to do and he knew it.
In the end, Harry had won the Captaincy before the campaign had even begun and before he could even write a single campaign speech.
Not that he complained, but it was somewhat… unsatisfying.
Before the scouts came the other houses had not really seen Harry's skill themselves, though they did get worried when they heard the rumours… immensely worried.
That was why a lot of them were in the stands, to watch the tryouts. They just had to know if the rumours were true.
Looking at the stands briefly, Harry smiled to himself, an evil sadistic smile indeed. He was sure he was going to enjoy himself this year. He was going to show them who was king.
True, he did not have many team members to choose from, his house being so small, but he had a plan up his sleeve to make up for that discrepancy.
Just the night before, he had snuck out of his dorm in the middle of the night to go to the Room of Requirement, which incidentally was right beside his house's entrance, much to his immense pleasure. It made sneaking out at night a non-issue.
His mission: to create the world's best broom… not just the best… but the ultimate un-defeatable broom. Only the Weasley twins knew that Harry had experience in making brooms, having trained Harry in the art themselves. Seeing that the twins didn't exist yet and since only Harry knew about the Room of Requirement at this time, he had the perfect place to do it, too.
Using the items he had ordered from shops worldwide and disappearing from public view for long periods every night, he began planning. The items, which he had ordered while still staying in the Leaky Cauldron, had arrived in a timely fashion and so Harry was confident he would have at least one 'super' broom made just in time for their first match against Ravenclaw in a few weeks' time.
Everybody mistook Harry's disappearances as Harry trying to avoid his immense fame, but they would get a great surprise when the time came.
For now, however, he had to make do with what he had… a boring Nimbus 200, while slow and outdated (for him), it was still the best broom around, and the envy of every Quidditch player… at this time.
"Eh, Harry, are you all right?" asked James from beside him.
"The uninvited fans aren't scaring you are they, my Lord Dragonheart… ?" asked Sirius cheekily with a grin on his face, like most days lately.
"No, my dear Sirius… I am just enjoying the view, thank you very much," Harry answered, rolling his eyes while coming back out of his dream.
He could continue to dream later… for now he had tryouts to hold and these would not be forgotten, he would make sure of that.
Turning back to look at his dorm mates, Harry saw there were just enough for the team and a few who would act as substitutes. There were no real leftovers really to talk about, so no matter what happened, everybody worthy enough would get some sort of place on the team.
Therefore, Harry was not worried that he would not have a team: His main concern was just who was going to be playing actively and who would be on the bench as a reserve.
"Ok, lads and lasses… this is it, now we decide who will be a star and who will be a pencil pusher for the year," he said, which made everybody laugh.
"And what's so bad about being a pencil pusher?" asked a Ravenclaw who was standing in a group nearby.
Harry ignored his resident Dragon bookworm. He had better things to do anyway.
"Since we are so few I will skip the usual pre-tryout run around the pitch. There just aren't enough of us; we can't afford to weed out the bad fliers…so I expect everybody here to be able to fly… those of you who can't… or think work comes first…which it usually does, but not now… scram."
Nobody moved, as Harry knew they wouldn't, though a few did laugh at Harry's added comment. The Ravenclaw scowled but stayed quiet.
Why would they have come otherwise if they couldn't fly, he asked himself…that would be just pointless…right?
"Let me make it perfectly clear that I will expect the utmost from all of you this year… just like I would every year."
"Most, if not all, of you will think my training methods to be out of this world... even devilish… TOUGH!! … Anybody who doesn't like that can leave… RIGHT NOW!" Harry said in an extremely cold voice.
This was the most crucial moment; if everybody left now, all would be lost.
Luckily nobody moved.
"Ok, you have been warned… let us now progress straight to the Beater tryouts… shall we?" he asked, relieved that no one had left.
After hearing a roar of approval, he handed everybody who wanted to tryout for the Beater position a Beater bat. There were four Dragons trying for the Beater positions of the six positions available on the team. That meant, of these four, two would become Beaters on the active team…two would not. The other two would then have a chance to become a Chaser, the Keeper, or they could always become one of the reserve Beaters. Harry, of course, as Captain had first pick and as such he already held the position of Seeker (though he was itching to try out the Beater position).
"Ok… let's see what you're all made out of… shall we?" he announced.
"I want each and every one of you to try and hit the Bludger here," he said, motioning towards a Bludger in the hands of a nearby volunteer, "…as hard as you can at that mat over there," he said, pointing at a mat nearby.
"The two with the best accuracy and the most power combined will get the jobs."
"Watch, and I'll show you how it's done," he said as he asked the volunteer to release the Bludger into the air.
Quickly picking up a bat of his own, he put himself into position and waited for the Bludger to return, and return it did.
Swerving in a rough arc, it flew back towards Harry.
'TWACK!!!' With a strike that echoed throughout the whole pitch, the crowd and Harry's team mates cried out in shock as Harry hit the Bludger with such force that it split in two from the power of his strike.
Harry smiled at the looks of incredulity and complete astonishment… and fear… his friends were giving him. But it was nothing compared to the horror of the watching Slytherins. The few members of the Slytherin and other teams, which were in the stands, had white faces and were beginning to look very worried indeed.
"Well, we may have to work on that," said Harry, grinning as he studied his handy work.
"Normally, of course, I'd expect the Bludger to still be in one piece after you hit it," he added to the humbled crowd around him.
The power rating on his strike had read an amazing 666 points. That was 166 points above that what was normally expected for a strike.
Harry just looked at the number and smiled evilly. Only he knew that he had used wandless magic to increase his strength on the strike and he intended to keep it that way. Above N.E.W.T. level wandless, nonverbal magic, that is what it had been, but what people did not know could not hurt them…right?… well… nearly.
Harry was sure that after that strike, he would never be allowed to play as a Beater; the staff would just not allow him. What if that had been a head? But he did not intend to anyway. Seeker was his profession, and he wanted to keep it that way.
"Ok… everybody, your turns," he said, taking out and holding up another Bludger from the Quidditch box. He would have to pay for the last one, but that was the least of his worries.
The rest of the Beater tryouts turned out to be normal. Nobody on his potential team could bring their power levels up to the usual normal maximum of 500 points, but that was not what Harry was looking for. For him, skill, not brute force, was important. The ability to actually hit your target was the name of the game, and of course if you did pack a good punch, so much the better.
In the end he had two new highly motivated Beaters, one male, one female, who while not as strong as they could have been, worked well together as a team and that was, in Harry's books, much more important than anything else.
For the Chasers it was much the same. Harry concentrated mostly on team playing and passing abilities and he was happy to see that James and Sirius both made a spot on the team. The only downside was the third Chaser, though that was probably because James and Sirius seemed to depend mostly on themselves and had the tendency to ignore their third team mate.
Harry would have changed the team and opted for three players who did work together rather than just two and a half but he did not have that many players to choose from.
That, and the fact that James and Sirius were his two best friends, ignoring the point that one was his father, the other his godfather, made him keep them instead. In the end, he gambled and decided that he would just have to work on this problem during the training exercises. Besides, they were very good.
The third and final part, the Keeper trials, was probably the most note-worthy of all of the trials.
After Harry had announced the Keeper trials, everybody who had not yet been chosen for a different position had stepped forward.
A few, while not a lot, were still too many for the single Keeper position.
But Harry, in his craziness, and complete sadistic evilness, had a secret plan up his sleeve.
:Flash Back:
"Ok everybody," he had said.
"We now have two Beaters, three Chasers, and a Seeker… that's me. All that's left is the Keeper.
"Now, obviously there are just too many of you here for one simple Keeper… so…" Here he started grinning wickedly, which made the crowd extremely nervous as they wondered what this devil named Granger had in mind for them this time.
"Here is what we will do… The first person who manages to stop three of my tries gets the position… so who's up for it?" he asked, glaring mischievously, dangerously.
Everybody in the crowd gulped and quite a few took steps back. If it was going to be anything like what Harry had done with a Beater's bat, or with the poor Chaser who had been knocked out by that Quaffle, they really did not feel like trying.
That was just what Harry had in mind though. At that moment, he was looking for a fearless Keeper: One that would stop at nothing to prevent a Quaffle from going though those goddamn goal hoops. Whether he or she lost a random body part in the process or not did not make a difference... well, not much anyway. Harry could sense their fear… he could feel their fear, he loved their fear. Especially that of the Slytherins in the stands.
Only three hopefuls kept their ground, though shakily, and they were all given several looks of great respect from all of those around them who either had not had the courage, or were just not crazy enough to do the same.
"Ah wonderful, all right then, who's first?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows in reply.
It took a minute, but finally one of the remaining contestants, surprisingly a former Hufflepuff, stepped forward and mounted his broom.
Harry watched him fly to the goal hoops and get into a defensive position around the far goal hoop.
Nodding in acknowledgement, Harry flew to the penalty area of the pitch. Then, his eyes turning to red, he signaled one of his Chasers to pass him the Quaffle.
Luckily he was too far away for anybody to notice the fearsome change in his eyes.
Taking one last look at the position of his doomed Keeper-on-trial, Harry took the incoming Quaffle and, with another of his strength spells, threw it directly towards the right goal hoop.
The Keeper never even saw it coming. Before he knew it, the Quaffle had flown through the hoop.
"Dong!" With its chime, the hoop acknowledged the goal.
"What… oh come on… you can't be serious," said the Keeper, now highly annoyed. "Was that it?" he asked.
"Yes, that's it," said Harry with another evil, sadistic smile. "Are you ready for the next?" he asked.
The Keeper gaped at him in utter disbelief. "How am I supposed to stop a Quaffle if I can't even see it?" he asked in total disgust.
"Simple: you aim, then you beat it away with your broom; if you can, you catch it; if you can't catch it, you fly in its way," Harry answered as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
The Hufflepuff just looked at him incredulously and then said, "You're impossible." With a swift motion he turned around and flew over to the stands to watch.
Harry just shrugged and let him go. One down, one to go, he thought as he turned his head to look at the final two competitors, a male and a female, two 7th years and both former Gryffindors.
To their credit both stayed where they were. "Ok, next please," he said in an extremely cold voice, one that he had acquired during his time in Hell. The two competitors stared at each other. At that moment, both understood. Here was a man… a fearsome leader… who commanded total dedication and total obedience to a common cause. There was only one way to deal with such people.
Giving each other one last look, cringing slightly at what they knew would happen next, they nodded, and then the girl stepped forward and boarded her broom.
With a look of fierce, if scared, determination and total dedication, she took her place amongst the goal hoops.
Her rival and everybody else in the stand watched anxiously as she took a deep breath and readied herself. Holding her bat, she nodded.
Harry studied her for a second, and then smiled; she was just what the team needed, he could sense it. Nodding towards James, he motioned him to toss him another Quaffle.
James passed the Quaffle and nearly closed his eyes when Harry threw it with full magical force, this time towards the middle goal post, just beside the girl.
Then the unthinkable happened. Using all of her intuition, the girl threw herself in front of the Quaffle. With a horrible shriek, which was heard at the far end of the school, the Quaffle hit her left arm, breaking it in half.
With a strangled cry, the Quaffle was deflected away from the goal hoop. She lost her balance and started to fall.
Harry casually, not missing a beat, or raising an eyebrow in reply, cast a Levitation Charm on her and gently guided her to the ground.
Slowly he flew down to the ground and walked over to her. His eyes back to normal, he looked at the last competitor. He gave him a questioning glance.
The boy gave one look at his rival, and then nodded. Without another word, he turned around and walked away; his thoughts were clear… she deserved the position and he would have to make do as a reserve.
Harry smiled and turned to face the rest of the crowd. "That's what I expect from all of you… fearlessness and total dedication, even when the odds are heavily against you.
"Please welcome our new Keeper, Julie Greystone," he said, then turned back to face her.
He could see that she was in great pain; she was crying, tears were rapidly falling down her cheeks and she was shaking violently.
Placing his right hand over her broken arm, he smiled kindly then he closed his eyes. Concentrating deeply, he moved his hand across her wound. A bright white light appeared just above his hand, healing everything but her broken bones, while she shrieked in annoyance from the pain of the Healing Spell. It was one of Satan's.
Opening his eyes again, he noticed that most were looking at him; their eyes were wide open with disbelief, fear, and some in confusion. What? I am a Ministry test subject, after all, thought Harry.
Amongst them, Minerva, who had arrived after hearing the girl scream, just stood where she was, staring at the scene in front of her. She was too shocked to move.
"Julie," said Harry speaking to the crying girl. "Come, I'll escort you to the hospital wing," he said kindly to her. "Let's have Poppy give you something for that bone, oh and welcome to the team, you've earned it," he added, giving her a real genuine smile.
Julie nodded dazedly and with a little help from Harry, she got to her feet.
Harry motioned to two 'Dragons' nearby and they promptly came over to help.
A minute later, Julie was on her way to the school, and from there straight to the hospital wing.
Only then when they were passing by did Harry see Minerva, who was still looking at him with a shocked expression. It was clear she could not believe what had just happened.
Speechless, she just watched as Harry gave a few last orders concluding the tryouts while at the same time helping Julie.
As he walked past her, he calmly said, "Good day, Professor." Then, without another word, not waiting for her to reply, they were gone.
The deputy headmistress didn't know what to do. Her thoughts were all jumbled up. On one hand, she was horrified about what had happened. Completely and utterly horrified. A girl had just been hurt terribly, intentionally… willingly, it was completely planned and yet she didn't really seem to care. True, she was in a lot of pain and it was obvious that she didn't like it in the least, but she seemed to accept it without a single complaint.
Minerva had been walking across the open courtyard heading towards her classroom to prepare for her first class the next day with the third years, when all of a sudden she heard this horrible ear-crushing scream coming from the Quidditch pitch. It sounded like the wail of an injured banshee.
Fearing the worst, she had immediately rushed to the pitch, wand drawn, ready to risk her life for the students at a second's notice, only to be surprised that the situation was totally under control.
Harry Granger. That boy continued to surprise her at every turn. True, she knew of his immense magical power, true, she knew of his background (at least she thought she did), but still, seeing the way he handled a crisis situation, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, without a moment's hesitation, kept her completely speechless.
She knew she was supposed to act in a certain way… to take control of the situation, probably even punish the boy for putting his classmate into a life-threatening situation, but she just couldn't do it.
Seeing the overwhelming loyalty in his peers' eyes, this overwhelming sense of dedication and trust… she just didn't know what she was supposed to do.
He was the ultimate leader, a nearly fearless, fearsome individual, loyal to his friends. He was there for them if they needed him, able to handle the most difficult situations effectively at the spur of a moment, a person everybody would listen to and respect and who his enemies would fear…
Slowly, with a great sigh, shaking her head, she started to walk back to the castle. She was going to report this and then hopefully, together they would see.
:End of Flashback:
Three weeks later# Harry's hidden Private Study, Room of Requirement
Harry was sitting in his personal study, staring into space.
In his mind, he was going through everything that had happened in the last few weeks.
Beside him, one on a table, the other on a perch nearby, his two familiars were watching him with interest. On another table, a partly finished version of a prototype broom was lying, dismantled, waiting for its creator to put it together.
Just in the last two months, Harry had gone from an unknown student to one of the most respected, feared individuals in all of Hogwarts' history. As far as he knew, even Godric, a feared dueler in his time, and Salazar, the most feared professor Hogwarts had ever seen, had never caused as much fear and trepidation as he had. Well, but then again, neither had either ever been the personal apprentice to the devil, had they?
Harry James Potter, also known as Harry Granger, or by his closest friends as Harry of Dragonheart, founder of the unofficial house of Dragonheart and its unofficial Head of House, couldn't help but wonder.
"Am I going corrupt… am I being too hard on them… am I going… Dark?" he asked aloud, staring out ahead of himself at a blank space in a nearby wall.
Why would you say that? asked a voice nearby.
Harry sighed. "Oh Icey," he said, speaking to his phoenix, then switching to Phoenixonia: … ever since I came here, I have been steadily changing the past at every turn.
Before I died, I was content with just being a normal boy, one of many… one amongst millions…
Hell, I didn't even want to be acknowledged…
Now, just like before, I am one of the most well-known wizards in the wizarding world …and I love it.
Harry gave out a small laugh… Hell, just two days ago, I even received an owl from one of Voldemort's recruiters… seems Voldy has taken an interest in my abilities… of course I… respectfully declined, but… Harry paused.
Harry, please… you're not going corrupt… you're just having a bit of fun… that's all, said Icetasia, though she too didn't approve of everything Harry did.
If you really feel bad about it… why don't you concentrate on your mission… it is time, you know, she answered.
Harry nodded in agreement, thinking of the irony that he had been sent, while unwillingly, to kill, by God. Then, speaking in common animal language, so that both familiars could understand him…
You're right, Icey… as always…it's time I concentrated on my mission.
Hearing this, Pry, Harry's 5-meter long, highly poisonous snake, who was currently at her full size, quickly opened her eyes and looked at Harry; her interest had been re-awakened.
Your mission? she asked…
Yes, Pry… I have a mission… Harry answered.
Before I met you, I was given by… several powerful beings… a mission to… exterminate four certain… individuals…
Three future Death Eaters and one rising Dark Lord.
Future? asked Pry, giving Harry a strange look.
Harry laughed. Yes, Pry, future… believe it or not, I am… shall we say a sort of… time traveller… sent back in time to kill certain… threats to my time… complicated… I know, so please don't ask me, Harry answered.
I see… said Pry, now intrigued, now I understand why you were so excited to find a highly poisonous snake like me, Pry answered, her eyes gleaming excitedly from the knowledge that she really would get to kill someone soon.
So when do we start… exterminating the vermin? Pry asked.
Vermin is good, Harry said laughing, thinking about a certain rat. Not sure yet… I have been thinking about sending you to a dorm to kill off a certain student... but I do not want to lose you… even if it turned out to be an innocent mistake, you would probably be destroyed afterwards… so, that is not going to happen, Harry said, considering his options.
Glad to hear it, said Pry… But that does not solve our problem, she added.
True, Harry conceded, it doesn't, he answered, a smile appearing across his face.
"Well Harry… it seems to me we only have one real valid option," said another voice suddenly from nearby.
For a second Harry was startled and already had his wand out to Obviliate the intruder, but he quickly realised who had spoken.
"Damn it …did you have to frighten me like that …Harry?" asked Harry letting out a sigh as he relaxed again.
"Sorry!" said the same voice, though it was clear it wasn't sorry at all. In fact it was chuckling slightly.
Harry sighed again, turning towards the voice until he looked at a portrait of himself. The same portrait which he had shrunk and taken from the Dragon common room that faithful first night.
"Anyway… what did you have in mind?" asked Harry, giving the portrait of himself his full undivided attention. While Harry thought his portrait to be annoying at times, he had found his own input to indeed be valuable from time to time. Especially since he never had to update the portrait, since it always seemed to know what Harry had done during the day. Indeed it even knew what he had eaten for supper the last night.
"Well…I realise I may only be a portrait…a portrait of you I may add…but in my opinion it sounds like the only real way would be if we set a trap… or better still, we make it look like an accident," the Portrait Harry answered.
"Hmm," Harry mumbled to himself. "That does sound promising…What about if we…"
Harry, Icetasia, Portrait Harry, and Pry continued to plan into the early hours of the morning… finally Portrait Harry had a brain wave (if you could say that a portrait had a brain):
First, he would join the Marauders, then he would need to gain their total trust. To do that he would have to participate in a prank… then, once privy to James's, Remus's, Sirius's, and above all Peter's… private plans, he would then plan his move directly. At the right moment, he would spring the trap… then, under the protection of an alibi, he would sink away into the night… simple, really… if done right, but disastrous if done wrong.
Harry would just have to make sure that he didn't make a mistake…
Well… mistakes were ok… just as long as you didn't get caught… and achieved your goal.
If every thing went well… then by the end of the month, there would be one student less in the Hog of the Warts.
Happy that he had his plans made, and yawning deeply, Harry retired to bed… he had an important day ahead of himself. He was about to join the ranks of the Marauders... and then… only time would tell.
Headmaster's Private Chambers #Hogwarts( same moment)
Albus Dumbledore was lying in his bed. He was having difficulties sleeping.
Something just didn't feel right this night. What, he didn't know, but something just didn't feel right, he was sure of it.
It was as if a dark shadow had descended over his school and an icy wind had just run down his side… a forewarning perhaps, but he just couldn't place it. Something was about to happen at Hogwarts, something terrible.
Getting up, he walked to a table in the room and sat down in a chair nearby. He had a terrible headache, which just wouldn't go away, nor did it show signs of getting better.
"Just one of those nights, I guess," Dumbledore said to himself as he called one of the house-elves to bring him a cup of hot chocolate.
Am I going mad? he asked himself, as he reached for one of his lemon drops and popped one into his mouth.
The last two weeks certainly had not been good for his health and he knew it. With all of his professors quarrelling about that dratted new student called Harry Granger, he just could not stop worrying.
First thing on Thursday, two days from now, when he, and over all the Ministry, had the time, he would call on them and ask them a few questions about Harry… maybe he could find something which could help him settle his nerves, he thought.
It might not be much, but at least it will help me cope with the worry, he thought as he finished his drink.
Going over what he knew about Harry, which wasn't much, Dumbledore took a dreamless sleep potion, then he went back to bed… Thursday would bring answers... he was sure of it... On Thursday we shall see.
With those last few thoughts, he drifted away, into a deep dreamless slumber.
One day later, Wednesday, #Room of Requirement
Harry was once again in the Room of Requirement, working on his special broom. It was finally finished, and with the first Quidditch match only two weeks away, just in time too.
The broom, which he had christened the 'Dragonbolt', could make an extraordinary 200 kilometres per hour in 10 seconds flat. That was 30 kilometres more than his old Firebolt, a legendary speed in this time, unknown, unheard of, crazy, wicked, unbeatable, a broom for the century, the broom of all brooms… well, you get the point.
Harry grinned at the thought of seeing the Ravenclaws' (Not the Slytherins', as would have been the norm in his time) faces on the pitch in three days' time. It will be a great day indeed, he thought as he lovingly caressed the broom's smooth edges.
His little baby could not only make 0 to 200 in ten seconds, oh no, it was also equipped with the most advanced charms and spells, which Harry knew of from his time in the future.
Instant Braking Charms, which stopped the broom in midair from 200 to 0 in 2 seconds… well, nearly instant.
At first, he had not been sure about this and had been afraid of potential injuries, but combined with a Neck and Body Strengthening Charm and a Cushioning Charm to boot it had worked. Harry did not want to consider what would have happened otherwise. All the rider had to worry about now was how to keep his or her lunch inside…and not to faint from the immense acceleration, or deceleration as it may be… something which could be fixed with a lot of training.
The usual Unbreakable Charms and Automatic Offside Braking Charms, which protected it from going offside, and last but not least, an added Water Shield Charm, which protected the rider from the elements and let him or her see clearly in the worst of the extremes of weather, at least for about four to five meters; a stormy match with dementors was on his mind.
Harry was particularly proud of that one, as it had taken him a full week of intense research in the school's library during his spare time. Even with his advanced abilities and memory, it just wasn't enough to find a spell which suited his needs. The Restricted Section of the library gave him the answer he needed.
Now looking at his new broom, a broom better than even his old Firebolt, he knew that that was it. Now nothing could stand in his way to the Cup.
Laughing loudly, a sound that echoed through the whole room, Harry cackled like an old witch from a Muggle fairy tale.
A few meters away, Icetasia was looking at him nervously.
God, I hope you're sure about this one, she thought to herself as she flashed away, eager to get away from the mad man nearby which she called her master.
Pry, who was hidden under a table, hissed violently and slithered into a hole, which had suddenly appeared nearby out of no where… Happy to also get away from the same crazy master, she went on a hunt for some mice… and the room supplied.
While in his little corner of the room, Portrait Harry has busy covering his ears, wishing to the heavens for his dubious, dreadfully demented, devil, double to shut up.
After a while, Harry stopped laughing, and put his broom back down on the table.
Wiping a few tears of mirth away, he checked up on a potion, which was silently brewing in the temporary fireplace of the room.
It was a special potion, one which he was secretly preparing for a prank. A prank which he hoped to perform during Christmas… it would be his ticket … his way into the ultimate trust of the Marauders.
Satisfied that his potion was brewing nicely and that it would be finished on time, he commanded the room to change into a somewhat more leisurely environment (while obviously keeping the fire burning).
Tonight was a special night.
Not just because he had finally created his 'master' broom. True, the prototype, which he was sure was going to shock the world, was definitely part of it...but…
No!
Tonight he was going to become a member of the Marauders… a real Marauder. He was going to join his father and godfather in the ranks of the greatest troublemakers of all time… whether they liked it or not. He would make sure of it.
Quickly conjuring himself a nice stylish black cape, which covered his whole body and a few blood red under-robes, he put them on and settled down in a nice fluffy armchair, which was facing away from the door. That, combined with some stylish devil horns and long black hair, made him look very smug… and devilish indeed.
Any second now, he thought expectantly as he waited, and sure enough, just when he had thought those last few words, the door to the room opened.
Prior to entering the Room of Requirement earlier on that day, Harry had 'leaked' the whereabouts of the room to his closest friends, what it was and where to find it, telling them to ask the room to see him, and to tell no one else about it, so help them God.
James, Sirius, Remus, and unfortunately Peter, who if Harry liked it or not was also a Marauder, were now entering the room.
The first one through the door was James.
As official leader of the Marauders he had taken it upon himself to be the first to 'discover,' this new room, the room which the Lord Dragonheart had oh so wisely and graciously told him about.
He stepped in and took his first look around. Sirius and the rest soon followed him.
"How many more new rooms are we going to find before we have an accurate Marauder's Map," he asked out loud, before James could silence him.
"A worthy question, Padfoot!" said Harry from his armchair, a statement that made Sirius cry out in alarm.
"What?…oh… it's you!" he said, finally recognising Harry's voice.
"How did you know that I'm called Padfoot?" he asked in a somewhat worried tone. He was staring at the back of the armchair nervously, wondering why his friend and Head of House didn't face them. He could not remember having told Harry about it.
Harry grinned. "My dear Padfoot, did you really think the Marauders… Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and of course their leader, Prongs … a bunch of amateur pranksters, could stay hidden from me…the Master of Chaos, apprentice to the Devil himself, the Shadow from the depths of Hell… the terror of the innocent… the one and only… Lord Doom?" asked Harry, getting up and with a flash of light a small clap of thunder, (which could only be heard in the room), and some fog, he used an advanced Hover Charm to hover himself over to the awestruck, open-mouthed Marauders. His cape and hair billowing out behind him, he let himself come to a stop in front of them.
"As one prankster to the next… I humbly pledge myself to your cause," he said with a wink and a deep bow before they could recover. "Oh, and close those mouths, will you, it's cold out here," he added mischievously.
The dumbstruck Marauders just stared at Harry with open mouths. All they could do for the next few minutes was point and stare.
"Where's the grunt, lads?... Just a cute little grunt and we'd have a perfect bunch of trolls," Harry joked. "You know…pointing… staring…talking gibberish," he added just as James started to open his mouth to speak.
James finally found his tongue. "Who are you?" he asked stupidly, ignoring Harry's comments before he could stop himself.
"Yep, talking gibberish," Harry repeated, then he burst out laughing.
The Marauders blinked and looked at him stupidly for a few seconds then they too broke down laughing as one by one they realised what had happened.
None of them ever realised a hidden magical camera that was taking snap shots of them during the whole procedure. Their dumbfounded pictures would become priceless in years to come.
Finally, they stopped laughing and Harry motioned them to take seats nearby.
Walking over to the room's main door, he quickly locked it from the inside, then he went back to join his guests.
"So, can I join you?" Harry asked hopefully.
James sobered up quickly and gave Harry a thoughtful look.
"What do you think, lads, should we let him join?" he asked out loud to the rest of the Marauders.
"Well," said Sirius, "he does know about us."
"As do the rest of the school," added James.
Oh… that's true, thought Harry, taken by surprise.
"True, and we could use another member, especially if he is as good as he claims he is," "The fact that he is the head himself is only a bonus" said Remus merrily. He was still laughing quietly to himself, and was finding it difficult to speak.
"Peter?" James asked, giving the fourth Marauder a glance.
Peter just shrugged. "Fine by me," he answered, not really caring either way.
"Well then, welcome to the Marauders, Harry," James said, holding his hand out for Harry to shake.
Grinning wickedly, Harry held out his hand, but before he could take it, James quickly pulled it away.
Harry gave him a scornful surprised look. "What?" he asked.
What did I do wrong, he asked himself, suddenly worried.
"Sorry Harry, I almost forgot, every new member has to take an oath and a blood test before he can become an official member," James answered, apologetically.
In all of the excitement, he had forgotten about the rules… his own rules.
"An oath is fine by me, but what's this blood test about?" Harry asked, slightly worried.
"Oh nothing special, it's just so that you can't be impersonated by another person."
"Before every meeting we test each other… for Polyjuiced individuals and potential Metamorphmagi," said James "We don't want our plans ruined by a spy… do you?" James asked Harry, giving him a scrutinising look.
Harry raised his eyebrows. My, this caution would have made Mad-Eye Moody proud, he thought just before he smiled and nodded.
"Count me in," he said, an answer that made James grin happily as Harry quickly said the oath of loyalty.
"Wonderful, now if you would please prick your finger… we need a few drops for the ritual," James said as he took out a small pin.
Handing Harry the pin, James continued to speak: "The blood, when mixed, binds us together in a unique way which lets us talk to each other telepathically, but not look into the others' minds as long as the distance between us isn't more than 100 meters. It also lets us recognise immediately if we are talking to an outsider who is trying to impersonate one of us, as we would not be able to communicate telepathically with them. Remus, our resident book worm…"
"Hey," said Remus with a scowl, but he wasn't annoyed.
"…Found this blood binding ritual one day while in the Restricted Section… about the only time he ever took a book from the library without checking it out," James added proudly.
"Either way, we found it useful and implemented it. While we agree it is a Dark ritual, it is one of the best precautionary practices we ever did."
Hearing this, and satisfied with the answer, Harry pricked his finger and let the blood fall onto the table. James and the rest of the Marauders quickly did the same and let their own blood mingle with his own, and then James started to chant. Sirius, Remus, and finally Peter joined in.
It was an eerie experience but finally there was a flash of green light and the ritual was finished.
That's strange! said James, through the link as he looked up at Harry with a deep frown.
What's strange, asked Harry back telepathically, wondering what could have possibly happened this time.
"Nah, nothing…" said James out loud.
"No really, what's wrong," asked Harry, also out loud.
"Well… you'll think me crazy but… the ritual flashed green… that only happens... well… usually only happens if an offspring… a child, either a son or a daughter, of one of the original members joins the group… but that's impossible, as none of us have had any children yet," said James, frowning.
"Oh… I see," said Harry stupidly, a small bead of sweat rolling down his face.
"Anyway, no matter, welcome to the Marauders, er… what would you like to be called?" James asked, holding out his hand again and this time he did not pull it away.
Harry gave it a good long shake. "Call me Doom… Count or Lord Doom," he said with a wicked smile, which the other Marauders returned.
"Doom it is," said James, then with the official business completed, Harry clapped his hands and food appeared on the table nearby.
"Tuck in," he said, in his best Dumbledore imitation to the surprise of his friends and with a cry of "All hail Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Doom, and Prongs," they did.
