Chapter Ten

Quidditch Tryouts

It was just there—barely out of his reach. He stretched out both arms as his heavy feet began to tread forward. A large apple pie hovered right before him, amidst the blackness of his dreams. He lunged forward, reaching for the pie, but it continued to hover just out of reach. The harder he tried to capture the large pie, the harder it seemed to move his clunky feet.

"No, wait!" Ron muttered as the pie of his dreams floated away. He mustered all his strength and continued to run after the pie. He looked downward towards his feet. They were as big as bricks. Never mind that though, he thought—he had to catch that pie. After a few moments of running, he came upon a large and noisy crowd. Flashes of white light flickered from all angles, nearly blinding him as he approached.

"Mr. Minister! Mr. Minister!" One of the people yelled, holding a quill and notepad. "How have you been managing with your perfect life?"

Ron lost interest in the pie as he approached the crowd. He weaved through the people towards the center to what appeared to be a small platform.

"What can I say?" A familiar voice said. "It's perfect."

As Ron came to the front of the platform, his mouth fell agape. Standing tall and proud with his chest puffed out, Avalon Stratford flashed his award-winning smile towards the crowd. His teeth were dazzling white, nearly blinding Ron, and his blue eyes sparkled like stars. His wild blonde hair was the perfect balance of wild, tamed, and sexy according to some of the ladies in the crowd that Ron overheard. His skin seemed to sparkle with an unnatural brilliance. He was dressed in the finest midnight blue and gold robes and his pockets jingled of Galleons as he moved.

"How does it feel to be the youngest Minister ever?"

Avalon flashed his bright smile again. "Well, it does feel extraordinary good and perfect, but I cannot take all the credit, of course." Avalon glanced to his right with another smile. His arm slid around her slender hips as he pulled her close to him. "I want to thank my perfect wife…"

"'Mione?" Ron gasped.

There she was—beautiful in gentle curls and a pearly white smile. Her skin, too, seemed to sparkle with an abnormal and beautiful tint. Her long eyelashes fluttered like the wings of butterflies as she gazed adorningly at Avalon. Their hands intertwined as they looked upon one another.

"Tell us, Mrs. Stratford, what is like to be married to the Minister?"

Hermione gave more disgustingly loving looks towards Avalon before turning to the crowd. "Most think that it's perfect to be married to Avalon Stratford because he's so perfect—you know, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Grand Sorcerer…oh yes, and Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award Winner.." She paused to exchange smiles with Avalon again. "…But for me, it's not about those things." She gave an airy sigh. "He's so handsome, and sweet, and kind, and intelligent, and thoughtful, and brave, and creative, and…" She sighed again. "…he's so perfect."

"And tell us, how are the children doing?" One of the crowd asked.

"Children?" Ron nearly choked.

At each side, a child appeared. At Avalon's side appeared a boy who was the exact mirror and image of his father. The boy too had an unnatural beautiful smile, excellent hair, and a proud look upon his face. Avalon put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Avalon Jr. has been made Head Boy at Hogwarts. He also is Quidditch Captain of Gryffindor and has perfect grades. He is very popular and well liked by everyone."

Hermione put free arm around the girl who appeared next to her. Again, the girl barred an exact resemblance to her mother with gentle curls, nice skin, and a pretty smile. "Hermione Jr. is also Head Girl. She is the Dueling Club Captain and also has perfect grades."

Avalon gave a hearty laugh. "What else is to be expected from a perfect family? The whole family joined in laughing with Avalon.

"Dad, we love you! You're so perfect!" Avalon Jr. and Hermione Jr. chorused in unison.

Hermione looked toward Avalon, a hungry look in her eye. "What would I do without you, my perfect husband?" She passionately kissed him.

The crowd "awed" as the coupled continued to kiss passionately, snaking their arms around one another.

Ron tried to yell, but only a small squeak came out.

Hermione Jr. pointed straight at Ron. "Ewww! Who's that?"

Everyone turned to Ron.

Ron looked down at his brick-like feet, but not only that, his hands were swollen like balloons. His clothes were ragged and too short for his lanky body. His fingernails were dirty and he began to notice a foul odor about him.

"You're not supposed to be here!" Shortly after, Ron was hit in the face with an apple pie.

Ron shot up out of bed and his head collided with the bunk above him. He yelled out a few chosen curse words as he grabbed his head.

"Whazzmadder?" Harry startled away and fumbled around for his wand. "Lumos!"

Ron sat in his bed, rubbing his head angrily. "Nothing!" He hissed, still thinking of the contents of his dream. "It's fine! It's perfect!" He muttered angrily.

Harry's new owl started to hoot from all the commotion. "It's alright, Knut," Harry called out to the owl that was recently named. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine!"

Harry cast a strange a look. He glanced up at the bunk above Ron. Thor appeared to be either still asleep or disinterested. He gave Ron one last look and laid back down. "Nox!"

Ron laid his head back down on his pillow and stayed still for a few moments before turning and giving his pillow a swift punch.

It was a damp and cold misty morning on the day of Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts. Usually, tryouts would not begin so early, but seeing as in the last couple of years Quidditch had become increasingly cutthroat at Hogwarts, teams were practicing earlier and harder than ever before. The other house teams were especially motivated to reforming their Quidditch teams due to the travesties that happened last year. While the school was under the governance of Voldemort's followers, Slytherin had an extremely unfair advantage in every competition—especially Quidditch.

Hermione and Ginny sat huddled together high up in the stands while they munched on toast and marmalade from the Great Hall. As they approached, Ron snagged a piece of toast before Hermione could slap his hand.

"Get your own toast!"

"What?" Ron said, mouth half-full. "I'm hungry."

"Did you eat breakfast?" Ginny asked.

"Madame Rosmerta doesn't open the Three Broomsticks until 10 on Saturdays," Ron said.

"You could always make it yourself. Honestly, if you'd just learn a few cooking spells," Hermione chided.

Ron shrugged. "Who's got time for that? Besides, it's much more fun to nick your toast instead."

"Where's George?" Ginny asked.

"He wanted to come," Harry said. "He said he had to finish an inventory report before we can open. He's hoping for Monday."

"I can't stay the whole time myself," Ron said, swallowing the rest of his toast. "Need to be looking out for suspicious activity, you know."

At the finish of Ron's sentence, a pair of large feet stomped upon the wooden deck of the stands. They turned their heads to see a massive wizard approaching them slowly.

Ron gulped.

Today, he wore black combat boots, camouflage pants, a green tee-shirt with a brown jacket thrown over it with rips in the sleeves. His hands were covered in fingerless gloves, and his wand was out and ready.

"Oh, hello…Thor is it?" Hermione said, voice rising a bit higher than normal. "Having a pleasant morning?"

He grunted as he continued to approach them.

She gave a nervous smile. "Where are you from, Thor?"

"Liverpool."

"Oh, that's nice. Did you go to Hogwarts then?"

"Hufflepuff."

Ron looked sideward at Harry and mouthed, "Hufflepuff?"

"I see," Ginny nodded, not convinced either.

"Hufflepuff, eh?" Ron patted Thor on his large shoulder to which Thor turned his attention on Ron. "Did you play any Quidditch? Suspect you were a beater, weren't you?"

"Don't play Quidditch."

Ron's resolve grew weaker and weaker with the larger scowl that seemed to grow on Thor's face. "You don't play Quidditch? What…what…do you…play?"

"Rugby."

"Rugby?" Ron looked puzzled. "Does that have something to do with rugs—like flying carpets?"

"No, Ron, rugby! It's a Muggle sport." Hermione turned to Thor. "You're Muggle-born."

Thor nodded again with a grunt.

"So am I," Hermione said to which Thor gave her a slight nod.

"Well, that should make you the best of friends then, shouldn't it?" Ron said with a nervous laugh. "In fact, let's all be friends!" Thor only seemed to scowl as Ron kept talking.

Eventually, Thor turned around and started descending the stairs of the stand, his black boots stomping on each step.

"He's on duty first," Harry said. "Ron'll join him half-way through practice."

Ginny stood up from her seat, clutching her broomstick in her hand. "They'll be arriving any moment now. I better get down there." She threw her leg over her broomstick.

"Good luck, Ginny!" Hermione squealed.

Ron nodded. "Don't embarrass me."

"Don't worry—you're enough of an embarrassment to yourself," Ginny said back while Harry laughed. Once he finished he looked up. "Don't go easy on them, Captain."

"Right," she nodded and took off into the sky.

True enough to her word, students started making their way down to the Quidditch pitch after Ginny had done a lap around the stadium and landed onto the damp grass. First to arrive were some very eager second years who had some that wished to try out and the rest as a cheering section. Next came, Euan Abercrombie who Harry remembered being sorted in his fifth year. To their surprise, Andrew Kirke, who had been a terrible beater, turned up again. Dean Thomas came out also followed closely by Aurora McGonagall clutching a Nimbus Thousand.

"Hey, she's got a Nimbus like I had."

"Hmmm," Hermione muttered.

"What?" Harry looked at her.

"Professor McGonagall probably bought yours and hers at the same time."

Harry looked back towards the crowd forming below. A small twinge of warmth filled him—McGonagall treated him just like family—and yet, he felt a twinge of guilt for wrecking the thing, despite the fact that it wasn't his fault.

"Wonderful morning for Quidditch, isn't it?" A brisk voice came from behind them.

"Professor McGonagall!" Harry rose to greet her, just thinking of her moments ago. "How are you?"

"Excellent, Potter, just excellent" she said quite happily taking a seat a few rows above them. "I'm excited to see Aurora try out today. I've always imagined her playing for Gryffindor."

Demelza Robins came out onto the field talking with Avalon Stratford. The noisy crowd that had gathered became silent for a moment until people started murmuring and saying the same word, "Kamikaze."

Harry and Ron looked at one another.

"Kamikaze?" Hermione looked puzzled.

Harry and Ron both leapt out of their seats and ran down to the pitch. Hermione turned her neck. "Where are you two going?" But she saw Professor McGonagall do the same, tartan scarf fluttering behind her. Hermione gave a deep sigh and got up out of her seat.

"It's beautiful," One of the boys said, almost drooling, at the sight of the broomstick.

In Avalon's hands, he held a dark broomstick with black twigs wildly sticking out the back. Etched in gold writing were strange symbols not in English while two blue stripes raced down the handle.

"How'd you get it?" Dean Thomas marveled, reaching out but not touching it.

Once Ron saw that the Kamikaze was in Avalon's hands, a scowl formed on his face. "Would it kill him to buy British?" Ron turned away, but continued to sneak peaks at the broom.

"Got it for my birthday this year."

"Some birthday present!" A girl spoke up.

Hermione came alongside Aurora. "What's happening? I don't understand."

Aurora nodded towards Avalon. "He's got a Kamikaze. It's the latest broom from Japan. It's definitely on par with the Firebolt series. A lot of Asian teams are going with Kamikaze brooms for the World Cup."

"Oh," Hermione muttered, trying to be impressed just as much as everyone else was.

"That's a fabulous broom, Stratford," McGonagall said, not doing well to hide her obvious delight.

"Thank you, Professor," He said with a smile, feeling the same pride as he held the broom.

Ginny walked up to the crowd. "Alright people! We need to get this moving! Everyone who's trying out for the team, move to the center of the pitch!"

People moved away grudgingly from the Kamikaze to follow Ginny's orders. The students who were trying out walked onto the field while the spectators chose seats up in the stands.

"I can't even imagine how much of an edge having a Kamikaze on the team will make for Gryffindor!" McGonagall said happily.

"That's if he makes the team," Ron muttered. "Can't just buy a flashy broom and expect to be put on the team, can you?"

"No," Harry said, trying to console his moody friend. "You can't." In some ways, Harry couldn't help but feeling the same way. What kind of spoiled git got a Kamikaze for his birthday, but then again, Harry did get a Firebolt for Christmas one year. But that was different—he told himself—Sirius said that it was thirteen birthdays and Christmases worth.

Another part of Harry, however, felt guilty for having a grudge against someone he barely knew. Sure, the papers made him out to be a real prat, but he never actually spent a lot of time with Avalon in person. And he thought of Avalon's mother, who had been very kind to him. She even had bought him a new owl, which Ron suggested the name Knut—and it stuck. Was Avalon more like his mother, or was Avalon a complete prat who had his mother fooled Harry wondered?

Like Harry did his first year as Captain, Ginny had them all fly around in circles around the pitch to assess their flying abilities. She had them take off four at a time to keep flying traffic down.

"Next!" She called

Avalon and Aurora came together as the crowd thinned down, and they were lined up next to one another when the next four were begin prepared for flight. He mounted his Kamikaze while she straddled her Nimbus. They instinctively looked over at one another.

There was a large smirk upon his face as his hands clenched the handle of his broom. She grinned back. He winked at her just before Ginny hollered "go" and they both shot up powerfully up off the ground. They soared in front of the other two in their line, and quickly came up behind the line ahead of them. Aurora jerked up while Avalon averted under while using the Sloth Grip Roll technique, zooming underneath two other players. After coming out of his roll, he pulled upward and met back up with Aurora.

"That's quite alright!" Ginny hollered. "You don't need…" She gave up. They were long gone.

They jerked around the goalposts and tore off into the countryside surrounding the Quidditch pitch. They raced alongside the small creek in the ravine, narrowly zooming under an aqueduct, and back towards the stadium. He kept glancing over to his left, his smile widening, as she concentrated on following his movements. He looked forward and focused.

The sound of the two flyers ripped through the stadium. Most looked completely dumbfounded as they stared at the two blurs for a split second. The others stopped flying and merely sat hovering on their brooms in mid-air.

Harry was out of his seat and leaning over the edge of the stands as the two flyers passed by their hands. He felt his hair ruffle in the wind as they came close. He turned once they were out of sight to the sound of McGonagall cheering and clapping her hands exuberantly.

"You never told us she's a good flyer," Harry said while sitting back down with Ron and Hermione. "Sure she shouldn't be a Chaser?"

"That's what I used to tell her." McGonagall finally stopped clapping and put her raw hands down in her lap. "She could have been a Chaser like her mother and great-aunt," She said proudly. "Her grandfather got a hold of her first—made her a Keeper instead."

"A little sibling-rivalry, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione teased.

"Oh, baby brother knew I only kidded," The Headmistress waved her hand.

"I didn't know you had a brother, Professor," Harry said.

"Lucien McGonagall—worked as a writer for the Daily Prophet." McGonagall pursed her lips for a moment before speaking. "They got him early in the first war—couldn't have the Prophet telling the truth, of course."

"Yeah, they couldn't do that." Harry muttered jokingly, but not feeling much like it was a joke. A lot of people lost everything during these wars—not just him.

"You know, Potter," McGongall changed the subject. "My niece Matilda played with your father a few years on the team."

Harry turned back towards her. "Really? Your niece was in Gryffindor too?"

McGonagall nodded. "She was two years ahead of your mother and father."

"Looks like they finally settled down," Ron pointed in the sky at two slowly moving figures.

"Avalon's a pretty good flyer too," Hermione said.

"Let's his broom do all the work, I suppose," Ron said. "Even you'd look good on…" He started to blush and ramble as Hermione shot him a furious look. "Oh look, they've landed! Wonder what Ginny will have to say?"

Ginny indeed looked furious, but it was difficult for her to maintain that rouse as the two flyers approached her on foot. "You can't go off…" She couldn't keep a straight face anymore. "…ahem…I…we've got to keep practice orderly, all right?"

"Sorry, Ginny," Aurora muttered. "Got carried away."

Avalon nodded in response. "It won't happen again."

"Good," Ginny smirked and walked away to continue the tryouts.

Aurora turned sharply on her heel. "See what kind of trouble you got me into?" She hissed.

"You followed! I didn't force you!" He whispered back with a big grin.

"Wipe that stupid look off your face before I wipe it off on the pitch for you," She said, just before whipping her hair back as she marched forward.

Avalon stood dumbfounded for a moment before he turned around at the sound of sniggering. "Oh, shut up!" He hissed at Ritchie Cootie, Jimmy Peakes, and a few other Gryffindors.

Tryouts continued with goal-scoring, hoop blocking, bludger bashing, and more flying. Some of the hopeful tryouts were hilarious to watch, possessing no skill whatsoever to be playing Quidditch, while others blundered nervously in front of the audience in the stands. Ron gave a loud yawn until he heard the switch for "keepers" from Ginny's mouth. "This ought to be interesting."

"Chasers form a line on the left and Keepers on the right," Ginny called. "I'll have you all practice against one another." Seven people lined up for the Chaser position while three lined up for the Keeper position.

Aurora was sandwiched between two taller boys in her line—another seventh year and a fifth year. The one in front of her glanced behind his shoulder at her. "This is the keeper line."

"Yes, I know," She said.

"Aren't you a bit, you know—twiggy— to be playing Keeper?"

She wanted to scowl but only managed to blush.

"What's that got to do with it?" Avalon piped up from his line.

The boy looked towards Avalon then back to Aurora. "Just wanted to make sure she doesn't break a nail, that's all."

"Maybe you should concentrate on yourself," Aurora found her voice. "Before you break your ego."

The boy shot her a dirty look before turning around. He was called up first and did fairly well at defending the goal-post. He seemed rather satisfied with his performance as he came back down to the ground, but soon lost his confidence once he saw the girl behind him in action. Yes, she was thin, but she was quick. She had very agile movements and senses that enabled her to defend the hoops and pass the Quaffle back off to her teammates.

Hermione clapped and cheered along with McGonagall as Aurora deflected another shot and passed it off to a moving Chaser. She glanced over at a grumpy looking Ron for a moment, putting her hand on his knee to soothe him. He didn't like it that a girl was showing him up at Quidditch even if he wasn't trying out for the team.

"I better get going," Ron stood up. "I'm supposed to meet up with Thor to walk through the castle." He bit them goodbye and headed out of the stands.

Hermione sat silently for a moment watching Harry engrossed in the tryouts. His bright green eyes darted back and forth among all the players and his nose would cringe at the particular bad ones, or his eyes would fly wide open during an exciting moment. "Harry," She gently said his name.

"Hmmm?" He was still paying more attention to the tryouts.

"Have you thought anymore about Ginny?" She asked, a blush coming to her face as he rounded on her. "I'm sorry."

He stared at her for a moment, a little guilty that he made her feel frightened. "I've thought about it—about her—I mean," He said slowly.

"What are you going to do?"

Harry glanced around for a moment, making sure they weren't being overheard. "I don't know yet. But I am thinking about it."

"I know she doesn't show it, but it…" Hermione paused for a moment, looking down at Ginny.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It hurt her—when we were away." Hermione continued to look towards the overcast sky. "I think part of her still feels like you're away—or on a mission—since you haven't resolved things."

"In some ways, I still am," Harry said, bitterly, thinking of his newest job from Kingsley. "But I know you're right. I have to do something, and soon."

Hermione looked at him, her eyes welling up with faint tears. "Oh, Harry!" She reached out and took him into a big hug. "You've grown up so much!"

"Alright, alright!" Harry chided. "You're just like…"

"What?" She looked taken back.

Harry laughed. "Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione blushed. "Well…I…er…sorry."

Quidditch practice was finally over and seven members were chosen for the team. Three Chasers were chosen: Dean Thomas, Demelza Robbins, and Avalon Stratford. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Cootie were made Beaters again. Aurora McGonagall was placed as Keeper, and Ginny Weasley, the team Captain, would be the Seeker. All in all, it seemed that Gryffindor team was in good shape for this season. The dejected players all gloomily headed back to the castle while many of the audience did the same. The chosen players lingered for a moment for a quick meeting before heading back.

Knowing that he needed to be on duty, Harry pulled out his wand and started heading away from the Quidditch pitch. His eyes scanned the grounds, not really expecting to find anything useful, as he headed back up to the castle. He walked silently for a few moments until he heard his name called.

"Harry!" Avalon zoomed up on his Kamikaze and leapt off once he caught up to Harry. "Mind if I walk back up to the castle with you?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess not," He lied.

They began walking in the same direction, but they did not speak for a while. Hating the silence, Harry glanced over at Avalon's broom. "Got yourself a Kamikaze then?" Harry said, for lack of any thing better to say.

Avalon nodded vigorously while he held up the handle of the broom. "Yes, just got it. Barely a month old."

"Awfully nice of your mum to get that for you," Harry said, letting a little spite slip into his voice.

"My mum didn't buy this for me." Avalon looked confused.

"What do you mean?" Harry looked surprised.

Avalon stopped, holding the broom tightly in both hands. "My friends—the Muggles," He added for Harry's sake. "The ones my mum and I went into hiding with—they bought it for me." He rubbed his thumbs over the Japanese label. "The Ministry of Magic ordered that their memories be stricken from them for their protection. We protested, but lost the case." He gave deep sigh. "They wanted to get me a birthday present to remember them by—thing is, I'll always remember them, but they won't remember me or mum."

Harry looked away, trying to give Avalon the chance to hide his forming tears. They continued walking, drawing closer to Hagrid's hut. Harry cleared his throat. "I used to have a Firebolt. It got destroyed, but I liked it a lot."

"Sorry to hear that. Firebolts are excellent brooms."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "I've got to get myself a new one soon. I always forget I don't have it until I need it."

"Are you in need of one now?" Avalon asked.

Harry looked at him. "What?"

"Do you need a broomstick now—for something?"

"Well," Harry paused. "I had an idea. I was…" He stopped. "Never mind, don't worry about it."

"I'll let you borrow mine if you need it. Mind you, I'll need it back for Quidditch, but when I'm not using it, you could surely use it."

Harry pondered for a moment before a smile appeared on his face. "I just might have to take you up on that offer. I'll let you know."

"Sure, any time."

They continued walking. "If I don't borrow it from you sometime, can I at least have a go on it?"

Avalon nodded. "Of course. It'll knock your socks off."

"What's the handle made of?"

As they approached Hagrid's cabin, they came upon a group of students lingering around the edges of the Forbidden Forest. Harry gripped his wand tighter and paused, but Avalon took a deep breath and moved forward.

"You all know that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students," Avalon said in a serious manner.

"Oh, I was always wondering why they called it the Forbidden Forest!" One of them spoke up.

"Don't get cute with me. What are you doing around here?" He looked around all of them disapprovingly.

"What do you care?" Another spoke up.

"It's my business to care," Avalon said. "You'll get yourselves hurt in there if you're not careful."

"Fine," One of them snapped.

Harry noticed the green and silver trimmings on the uniforms. He recognized some of the students, but did not know all of their names. They all eyed him of course as they cleared out and moved back towards the castle.

"As you were saying?" Avalon approached Harry.

The group of Slytherins muttered between themselves led by Spyros Catassus back towards the castle. "What's that Potter doing here?" One of them asked.

"I think the answer should be obvious." When he wasn't answered, he cleared his throat. "He's here because of that stupid little stunt that some of you pulled."

"The writing?" Graham Pritchard spoke up.

"Bravo," Spyros said apathetically. "Now everyone will be sticking their noses into it, making our job much more difficult."

"Sorry," Some of them muttered.

"As if it isn't difficult enough as it is!" Spyros hissed, making the others fall silent. "We're barely hanging on by a thread."

Cain Rigel, who was silent, until now spoke up, "Maybe we should just lie low for a while. You know, not do anything."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Spyros spat. "Give you more time to daydream about that little half-blood of yours?" He turned sharply at a surprised looking Cain. "Yes, I know all about your little doodles on parchment papers and ogling in the hallways."

"I was just suggesting that we…"

Spyros pointed his wand at Cain's throat. "Get your head where it belongs, Rigel. There are more important things going on here. You of all people should understand the price of what's at stake here. We were given a task, and we will complete it. We're the only ones who can do it. Now get your priorities straight!"

Satisfied with his threats, Spyros turned around and started walking again with the others following nervously behind. "Where we going now?" One of them spoke up.

"To the library," Spyros said.

"I…" Cain spoke up and Spyros quickly rounded on him. "…I…have Quidditch tryouts this afternoon."

Spyros rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for games anymore, but I suppose. We can't look like anything's out of the ordinary, can we?" He turned around and continued onward.

Minerva stood silently in front of her desk, looking on in at the portrait of Dumbledore. Sure, sometimes the portrait assisted her like an old friend, but more than she would care to see, the portrait version of Dumbledore was either snoozing, visiting friends, or humming show tunes. This time, he was asleep. She sighed deeply. "What am I to do, Albus?" Were resentful sentiments still alive and breathing within Hogwarts itself? Was the battle really over? What actually happened to her niece, Matilda? How would Aurora be able to heal from losing both of her parents before her eyes? How should she react to Aurora's relationship with a Slytherin student? Would the teachers she hired really do the job well? Her thoughts were interrupted with the loud snore that escaped Dumbledore's mouth. She stood her head in agitation as she aroused back to reality. It was then that a knock came to the door.

"Come in," She answered, taking a moment to find her voice.

"McGonagall, glad to find you here."

The Headmistress turned around, immediately frowning. "It's Headmistress McGonagall."

"Yes, yes," Alfred Pickcomb charged forward. "I have wonderful and important news."

"And what is that?" Minerva returned to her seat behind the desk and sat down. Mr. Pickcomb had already taken the liberty of sitting.

"The Council for the Order of Merlin has unanimously decided to award the Order of Merlin to one of your very own, McGonagall."

The first person who came to the Headmistress' mind was Hermione Granger. After all, she along with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were responsible for undermining Voldemort's power by destroying the Horcruxes; however, in this messed up Wizarding World, she figured it would not be Hermione."

"Avalon Stratford!"

"I figured as much," She said crisply. She had nothing against the boy. In fact, all the other professors reported him as well-behaved, intelligent, and rather pleasant. However, it seemed so unusual—and perhaps unfair—that he received so much attention over the three students she watched fight and loose so much to win this war.

"What?" Mr. Pickcomb looked taken back. "You don't think he deserves it?"

"I didn't say…"

"The boy is a hero, Minerva!" Mr. Pickcomb said, giving a hard thump to the ground with the end of his cane. "He saved the lives of twelve Muggles during an attack, tended after a sick mother, kept those Muggles in hiding for almost ten months, and fought Death Eaters very step of the way."

"There are a lot of heroes, Mr. Pickcomb," The Headmistress said.

"Still, would you deny that the boy isn't among one of them?"

"I wouldn't deny it at all," Minerva said. "He was brave and did a lot of good things, but so did many others. We mustn't focus merely on one, but we must remember all the brave souls and sacrifices that were made to win the war."

"I know that, Minerva!" He said impatiently.

The Headmistress leaned gently forward. The air in the room suddenly became thick and tense. Formerly disinterested portraits silenced and turned their eyes towards the scene unfolding. "It seems highly unusual to me that the Ministry chooses to focus merely on one of these heroes, and it isn't even the one that everyone would suspect—the one that everyone in this world owes a debt of gratitude towards…"

The old grandfather clock in the office boomed loudly. Mr. Pickcomb immediately stood up from his chair and reached for his hat. "Well, this has been a pleasure, but I really must be going."

"So soon?" The Headmistress couldn't suppress a smirk.

"I'll be heading out, but please inform your student of the committee's decision. I suspect that the boy will need a couple of days leave to attend the ceremony."

"Absolutely not."

"We'll talk later!" Mr. Pickcomb left the office.

The portraits flinched at the words that came out of the Headmistress' mouth.

Students passed in droves towards the Great Hall for dinner. Aurora McGonagall scurried down the steps ready to eat—Quidditch always made her hungry. With a dreamy look in her eye, she thought about all the desserts and pastries that might me on tonight's selection.

"Aurora!" A voice called out.

At first, she tried to pretend she didn't hear it over the noise of the other students, but she couldn't ignore him any longer as he came close. "Oh, hi." She said.

"Congratulations. I heard the news." Cain said to her. "Everyone's saying you're really good. Great even."

"Thanks." Aurora said. "I'm not really that good though."

"Oh, I bet that's not true," He said, brown eyes beaming enthusiastically.

She looked up into his face. What was wrong with her? Any girl would dream to have a guy like him constantly trying to get her attention and flattering her with compliments. Why didn't she like it? Why did that face, and that voice, and his presence make her feel uneasy? Why did it feel like they had met before, and that the meeting wasn't a pleasant one?

When she didn't answer, Cain glanced around for a moment then reached back to rub the back of his neck nervously. "I play Quidditch too. I'm a beater. So…I guess we'll play each other on the field then…"

"Yeah, I guess…"

"So, um, do you like music?"

Aurora raised an eyebrow, noticing the awkward shift in conversation. "Yes."

"Aurora, I've been looking for you!"

Cain and Aurora turned towards the stairs. Avalon came jumping down the stairs two or three at a time until he finally reached them at the bottom of the stairs. "You forgot your ink in Charms." He pulled a bottle of metallic purple from his pocket.

"Hey, I was looking for that." She reached out and took the bottle. "They changed up the formula again. I can't get this color anymore."

"Oh, drat," Avalon said, imitating a girl's voice.

"Oh, shut it!" Aurora snapped back as Avalon snickered.

Cain glanced back and forth between the two. "I need to get going," He quickly departed towards the Great Hall.

"Who's he?" Avalon asked, watching as the Slytherin boy rushed away.

"Nobody. It's not important."

"Ah, Mr. Stratford, just the person I wanted to see." The Headmistress came through the corridor. "Miss McGonagall," She acknowledged her niece with a smile and nod. "I'll need to see Mr. Stratford alone for a few moments."

"Alright," Aurora headed off towards the Great Hall.

"Am I in trouble?" Avalon asked, looking at the Headmistress a little frightened.

"No, you're not in trouble," She said. "Why—did you do anything wrong?" She quickly asked with a serious tone.

"No," Avalon squeaked, shaking his head.

"I recently had a meeting with Mr. Alfred Pickcomb. He has informed me that the Committee of the Order of Merlin has decided to bestow an award upon you."

Avalon only stared at her for a few moments before giving a small sigh and looking away from her eye contact. "Is that all?"

"For now," She said. Her arms folded as she studied the boy's reaction. "I must confess that I have never seen anyone look so solemn after hearing that they are to receive membership into the Order of Merlin."

He quickly looked back at her. "It isn't about me." He shook his head bitterly. "It isn't even about those Muggles."

"What do you mean?"

"He's just trying to save his image." Avalon looked away again. "Any decent person serving as Head of Muggle Relations would have been immediately removed by the followers of You-Know-Who when the Ministry was overrun, and yet, Mr. Pickcomb kept his job. People are getting suspicious of him. He needs to use someone like me to save himself."

Minerva couldn't suppress a small smile. "Very astute, Mr. Stratford, even if it is a regrettable circumstance."

"He only wants me because he knows that Harry would put him in his place. The whole world knows it. He only wants to blow up my story because nobody else knew about it. That way, he could shape it how he wants. The stupid prat!"

"And why do you let him?" The Headmistress asked.

Avalon sighed deeply. "It's the only way my mum will get the care she needs. As long as we're in the public interest, they'll continue making her cure a priority. Mum's smart though. She knows what they're doing. She wants me to stop, but how can I?"

"I see." The Headmistress sighed. "I'll respect your decisions, but I cannot have him interrupting the school schedule for his events."

Avalon nodded. "I understand."

"You're dismissed."

"Thank you, Professor." Avalon started to walk away.

"Oh, and Mr. Stratford," She called out.

"Yes," He turned back toward her.

"I have a few old acquaintances at St. Mungo's. I'll send them an owl and ask them to make it a priority for my sake."

Avalon nodded. "Thank you."