(Welcome back comrades!)

"Oh guys, it's Harry, he's here already." Said Wodski. He and the Ronaldski brothers were the only ones that were at the Marksmanship Club as of yet.

"Hi there." Harry responded shyly. "So… How do we train, usually?"

"Well, we have different categories for guns… Seeing as your weapon from Olivandrov is too heavy, and Flitbic trained you with an AK, we think you should do AK. There's 2 AK's, 2 snipers and 2 pistols. The Ronaldski brothers handle the snipers, a couple of babooshkas from year 4 do the pistols and you and me handle the AK."

"Sounds cool, but am I not a bit too young to be in this team?"

"Well, actually, you're our youngest member in 100 years." Georg Ronaldski said.

Harry stood there flabbergasted. Was he really that important?

"Nah, just kidding." Fedya Ronaldski chuckled. "We've had 8 year old boys in here. Some aims are just a lot better than others"

"Not funny man." Harry responded, embarrased. "So how do we train?"

"Well, actually we'd need you to pass an initiation test first, but after what happened last year, you're the only candidate." Wodski explained.

"Well, what happened last year?" Harry asked.

All three boys looked uneasy. Finally Wodski spoke: "That's a state secret, it never happened, ok?"

He continued: "Come with me!" and walked with Harry and the Ronaldski brothers to the Department 1 shooting range, which was below the first floor of the academy.

"Why is it so deep?" asked Harry.

"Well, out old shooting range was outside, until Snapic 'accidentally' destroyed it with grenades. He claimed he was drunk." Said Wodski bitterly. "And stop asking questions, the teachers don't appreciate that."

After what Harry felt was way too many stairs, they walked into the new shooting range. It looked a lot like Flitbic's shooting gallery, but there were red flags, photographs of old members, (very) old copper trophies and targets of varying distances. The Ronaldski brothers were already practicing with their snipers.

"Let me explain the game, Harry." Wodski began, walking towards the AK-targets. "During the real competition, each target consists fo 3 target rings: 10 points, 20 points and 30 points. You want to go for the 30, of course. Then, the score of each team member is added and the maximum score is compared to that of the other team. Highest score wins."

"Sounds simple enough." Said Harry relieved. He turned to an AK target, where he saw Snapic's head with the target rings drawn on it.

"We won't get into trouble for this, will we?" Said Harry, pointing towards the target."

"Nah." Said Wodski. "As long as they're from the opposing departments, Gonigov thinks it's fine. Now shut up and show me your aim."

Harry took an AK from a weapon stand, loaded it and started aiming. Suddenly he felt his nerves, and he tried to keep concentrated.

"Don't hold the trigger for too long, or you'll wast our ammo." Remarked Wodski.

Finally, Harry fired a few shots. He checked the target. Most of the bullets were in the 10-ring, with a few in the 20-ring.

"C'mon, you can do better than that. Again!"

Harry aimed again. His hands felt too sweaty. He fired; This time they were all either in the 10-ring or outside.

After letting Harry repeat the procedure several times, Wodski came out and said:"Not bad, but this is not gonna work. Go and sit there for a while." He pointed to a bench in the back of the hall."

"Harry stepped away from the range and sat down. This was a lot harder than he expected, he might get thrown out just as quick as he was thrown in. He rubbed his hands against the wall when he noticed they were still sweaty. This was gonna suck.

After a while, Wodski came back and put his gun back in his rack. "Your aim is too unsteady, you'll need to work on that. "Also, your hands are sweaty." He said, pointing to the concrete wall. "Wipe then clean and start again."

"Wipe them clean with what?" Harry asked

"Be creative." Wodski smirked. Then he walked towards Fedya and Georg, presumably to get them to train again.

"Yes captain." Harry mumbled.

"And don't call me captain, I'm TEAM captain. But you can call me Ole."

After wiping his hands and aiming at Snapic several times, Harry saw Wodski come back.

"Any improvement comrade?"

"Yeah, more or less." Said Harry quickly.

After he had showed Wodski some more of his shots, Wodski sighed. "Comrade, you're just too insecure for this now. You need to practice and relax, or else this isn't going to work.

Harry felt ill. "Can I still stay."

Wodski shrugged. "Well… Yeah. I know you can do it. And besides, we're not really high on replacements right now."

Harry let loose a sigh relief.

"That was enough for today." Wodski said, in a more emotionless voice. "I expect you again next week. This place is open from 3 PM every day, so please, use the opportunity to practice."

"Ehm sorry Captain, but I don't have a lot of spare time right now." Harry said, remembering his timetable. "When am I supposed to train when my timetable is overflowing?"

"Be creative." Wodski responded again. "Now go, you'll need some sleep. Believe me."

A few minutes later Fedya and Georg Ronaldski, who were out of ammo, walked up to Wodski and spoke up.

"My hands suck today." Remarked Fedya. "If only I would've had time to thaw them out after Strupov ordered me to plant all those чертов landmines.

"By the way, how is that boy supposed to train anyway?" Said Georg.

"No idea." Responded Wodski. "That's why I always keep my advice vague."

"Well, he'd better do it!" Said Fedya, reloading his gun. "He's the only one we have as of now. Flitbic the rest was pretty subpar, bad even. Today's youngsters are so spoiled."

Harry walked towards the Department 1 room, where most privates were already trying to sleep, knowing that the mornings were early and the days long. "Redhead" Ronaldski was snoring, Hermionskiovow was talking to Yuri, who was visibly irritated, and Sergei was trying to sleep when he saw Harry.

"Harry man, how was it?" He asked.

"Well, it was ok I guess, but I'll need to practice a lot more."

Sergei frowned. "That's impossible. Why don't you just quit?"

Harry sighed. "For the Department man! I can't just let our get curbstombed just because some silly personal problems."

"Don't they have replacements?"

Harry explained that that was part of the problem: He was the only candidate as of now. After a little more conversation he fell asleep, only to be woken up next morning for another round of shooting. And after that, another. The days followed each other fast, going through the usual classes and occasionally trying to practice on the shooting range. Nevilov was still gone, and gradually people began to forget about his antics, though there were still many wild speculations of what had happened to him. Harry had almost adapted to his new life when, on the 31st of October, (which is totally insignificant) Captain Squirrel ran into the great hall and screamed: "PEEVES THE DANCING BEAR IS LOOSE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES AND COUNTRY!"

(That's it comrades. Sorry for taking so long to write, I'm a lazy bastard sometimes. I'll at least cover the first 2 books with this fic, after that we'll see.)