Harry Potter & the Child of Phoenix
Disclaimer: We've discussed this. I don't own anything! Except for the plot and the characters you've never heard of. They're mine. Mine.
Chapter Ten: Of Quaffles & Children
Long, alabaster fingers touched their counterparts' tips as he vigilantly eyed the sputtering man across from him. Weeks. He had given him weeks. And all he came back with was his ever-stammering tongue, blubbering about his non-successful mission. Why did he try his patience so? Tapping his willowy digits together, crimson eyes glared at the portly, quivering man in pitch-black garb. Harry narrowed his eyes into malevolent slits. This was a waste of time.
"Wormtail," his high, icy voice interrupted in displeasure. The Death Eater flinched harshly at Harry's tone and shuddered more. Harry sneered angrily at the man, lowering his invisible brows plastered on his white face under his hood. "You have had weeks. Upon weeks, upon weeks, and have wasted valuable time." His chilling voice hissed. Wormtail quavered, his beady eyes shooting to the darkened door on the other side of the room. Vermilion embers glowed ominously in the fireplace, a final result of the flames burning from the protracted night prior. Small flecks of light peeked through the moth-eaten velvet drapes baring the sun from view, illumining insignificant parts of the room. Harry's lip curled in disgust and fury. "Explain yourself." The words came out in a deadly whisper, causing the minion to involuntarily whimper. With a sick sense of satisfaction, Harry smirked notwithstanding himself.
"M-My lord," his squeaky voice stuttered. "W-We have g-g-gone t-to the muse-museum, b-b-but have found n-n-nothing." Harry felt the fire of his anger well up within. "Y-Your ally d-does n-n-n-not b-b-buh—"
"Out with it, peon." He seethed. The servant cringed, and twisted his hands before him nervously.
"He d-d-doesn't b-b-believe these w-weapons exist anymore." Wormtail finally admitted. "He d-deems it imp-impossible t-to f-f-find." Harry scowled. Obviously, his men were not searching hard enough. Wormtail grimaced at his master's expression, shaking harder than he had before. Harry, of course, noticed this and it only served to irk him more.
"Be still, Pettigrew." He fumed. "I will not have you sniveling in my company." The Death Eater produced a tiny sob in response, stilling at his master's behest. Harry's steepled fingers glided separately to the musty arms of his stiff, burgundy chair. His eyes slid to the struggling Death Eater, attempting to restrain his urge to bawl and convulse before his master. Pathetic excuse for a wizard. "You will continue the hunt," he ordered in a no nonsense tone. "Bearing in mind that I am your master, and I say when things can, and cannot be found. These weapons are the key to my victory in this war." He pointed a long, skeletal finger at the pudgy wizard. "This is your last chance, Wormtail. The next time you are before me, the words that fall out of your mouth better pertain to the location of those weapons." The man sniffed roughly, containing his impulse to cry, nodding furiously and bowing low.
"Y-Yes, m-m-master," he obeyed sycophantically. "I p-promise, m-master." Harry glowered at the man.
"And it would also be prudent to grow a backbone." He gibed. "None of your peers seem to have gone wrong with theirs." The pawn to evil quaked before bowing as low as a house elf.
"I-I-I w-will, g-good master…."
"That sword, and that scepter will be—"
…………….
Harry sat up quickly, only to shield his eyes from the bright sun overhead, massaging his aching side. The blue sky extended over the land, with puffy, ivory clouds dotting the canvas. Underneath him, the short, jade blades of grass poked him through his robes like dull needles; he ran a hand through his hair, pulling out stray pieces of lawn. He rubbed his scar as it prickled painfully, and looked into the brown eyes of a worried Ron Weasley. His red-haired friend regarded him carefully.
"What's wrong?" Ron asked carefully, sitting up from his laid back position. Harry lowered his brows, looking over at the line of students lying on their backs. Today had been their first study in Divination class, and they were studying Chaomancy with Celestial Professor Cassand. Kaltag sat on the other side of Ron and was jotting something down on a sheet of parchment. As Harry grazed his fingers lightly across his scar, Ron's eyes widened. "You-Know-Who?" he whispered. Nodding, Harry and Ron quickly grabbed their parchments and wrote something, just as Professor Cassand passed them by. "What happened?"
"Must've dozed off," Harry confessed quietly, writing in a prediction for a cloud that resembled a torch. "He was talking about his nameless ally and the…the weapons." Ron nodded, glancing quickly at a puffy cloud floating overhead.
"We've still got them, right?" he asked the Gryffindor Seeker. Harry thought for a moment, his eyes wandering to Ella Burton, lying on her stomach in the grass.
"I can only assume," he answered, his green eyes following the redhead Gryffindor girl, deeply immersed in her writing. "He still has Wormtail looking for it." He swept the feather of his quill over his scar in a soothing motion, hoping to lessen the throbbing. "He was really upset they haven't found it." Ron let out a chuckle after Cassand glided by again.
"We must have really hidden it well," he surmised. "To make him so mad they can't find it. Did he say the names of them?" A gentle breeze sifted through, rustling their papers. Harry, Ron and Kaltag clung to theirs, as a few Ravenclaws and Neville, shouted and raced to grab their flying parchments. Harry frowned deeply, bending his quill in thought.
"No. Just that they're a sword and a scepter," he whispered, his utensil falling back to the parchment to write, as Cassand glanced their way. Ron bobbed his head, letting him know he caught what the weapons were. "He said they'd help him win the war." The prefect turned to his best friend briefly.
"D'you think they'll help us win the war since we have them?" he queried. At Harry's frustrated shrug, the student returned to his parchment, tersely gazing up at a passing cloud. "According to my cloud," Ron began in a considering tone, "which looks like a mandrake—horrible little snotters—an amusing death of an abstract nature will occur in a few days." Harry gave Ron and incredulous look, writing in his own portent.
"There's nothing remotely amusing about death, Ron." He pointed out bitterly. Ron shrugged.
"Maybe a gnome, or a mandrake will die. That's amusing. Never know." Ron reread his statement, his eyes brightening with a new notion. "It's abstract. Maybe Snape'll lose his snarky attitude."
"Doubt it." Harry and Kaltag spoke in unison, neither looking up from their writings. Ron frowned at each boy in turn.
"At least give my hopeful thoughts a chance, you gits." He muttered foully.
……………….
Ron and Harry sat in a corner of the common room, their heads hunched over a sheet of parchment. The lounge was humming with low, meaningless prattle, topics ranging from homework to the latest edition of Witch Weekly. Hermione remained nearby with Ginny and Nikola, all poring over different subjects of homework.
"So we've got these spots to fill," Ron continued. "Two chasers and one beater, now that Sloper's out." The boy had decided to step down from his beater goals, as he found the sport of Quidditch to be much more entertaining as a spectator. Harry sighed in annoyance. They both needed to find replacements for the team, now that the beater sprang the news on them.
"Kirke must adjust himself with a new partner." He grumbled. "I haven't even played with Ginny or Kirke. It's like building a team from scratch. He might as well throw in the towel, too." Ron frowned at his best friend.
"Don't jinx it, Harry." He scolded. "Kirke's not dropping out. He loves the position too much to do so." Harry numbly agreed, before turning to face the stairwell. Starbuck and Yorick walked down the steps and settled themselves at a nearby table, and were followed by Icarus, Kaltag and Thanos. Kaltag clutched his thin, silver notebook again with his bag and sat with Ron and Harry.
"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, looking at their mess of parchments adorning the table. Both Gryffindors shook their heads and cleared space for the Celestial. Sitting down with a sigh, Kaltag put his notebook on the table and unexpectedly flipped it open. To Harry's surprise, it revealed a wide screen and a keyboard. A small logo sat on the bottom right hand corner under the keyboard, and the boy pressed a shiny, round, platinum button above the typing board. As he began to unpack his knapsack, Ron took an interest in the object and leaned over Harry. The young wizard had never been allowed near the Dursleys'—or rather, Dudley's—computer, but at times when they were away or busy, he'd have a go on it. He knew many of the basics, he just wasn't proficient.
"What is it?" Kaltag opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by an annoying Hermione.
"You can't use those here, you know," she spoke knowledgeably. "Hogwarts' magic interferes with all Muggle electronics." Kaltag simply smiled at the girl and pulled out more books. Harry paid more attention to the laptop, and watched as it effortlessly switched to the password screen.
"Then why is it coming on?" the Gryffindor countered. "Doesn't look like there's any interference to me." Hermione's smug grin wavered, and she stood from her seat to eye the small screen. Glancing quickly between Kaltag and the laptop, her brows furrowed.
"How can it be? I read in Hogwarts, A History, that—"
"Well, maybe that book needs to be revised." Ron teased. The female prefect's glare made her cheeks glow angrily. Harry could sense an argument looming between the two, and apparently, so could Kaltag.
"It's not a laptop," he started. "Not really. It's an Olympic Link, or oLink for short." His fingers moved rapidly as he typed in a password. "It connects Celestials to the Olympic Network, so we can find out further information for our assignments." Hermione rubbed her lip pensively, while Ron slowly tapped on the 'P' key.
"How can it work here?" Hermione queried, eyeing the oLink furtively with something akin to contempt.
"It runs off Celestial energy," the Paraffin prefect answered. "From a special battery at the Olympic Links store in Aristedes Square. It can be recharged through a Being or Entity's forces." Ginny came to the table to get a better view, while Nikola continued on her work.
"We've all got one. Just haven't got around to using it yet," she explained. "Mine is light pink. Star's is Paraffin blue." Ginny took a closer look at the machine.
"You say it can get information about any topic?" she inquired, lifting a red brow. The Being nodded, scrolling with his Touch-Pad to open some files.
"Anything." Ron snorted and shook his head at his sister.
"Type in 'available boys,'" he grumbled. "Maybe Ginny'll find a whole list of them." The youngest Weasley glared and faced Kaltag. Hermione's face contorted a bit with annoyance.
"So, in essence, you can get any answer for homework from here." She summarized. Kaltag inclined his head reluctantly.
"Pretty much." Narrowing her eyes, Hermione returned to her abandoned books, clinging to them while glaring at the offending oLink. Ron took in the oLink from all angles and contours.
"Yep," he concluded. "We need one of these at Hogwarts. Snape wouldn't have a choice but to pass us."
"That's if they have wizard topics." Harry added, making his best friend frown with worry. Kaltag resumed his clacking of keys as he typed.
"They do." Kaltag grinned. "And oddly enough, most of them are Potions."
……………….
Harry sat at lunch the next day, distractedly glancing at various people in the great hall. Luna was shaping the mashed potatoes on her plate into some sort of sculpture; Neville, Dean and Seamus were conversing loudly on their favorite Quidditch teams; Justin and Ernie from Hufflepuff were talking with Prashin Singh and Proteus Naiad from Brittlebore. He stifled a pitiful laugh as he eyed Cho and Michael snuggling at the Ravenclaw table, Tam Xu and Etienne Flannery from Voltaire shooting the others uncomfortable looks from across the table. The wizards and witches had been from the Defense Association, which Harry sleeplessly thought about the previous night. He knew he was continuing with the organization, be it illegal or no, but he couldn't discount the Celestials.
The Smythes, Icarus, and Thanos openly declared they would join. But Harry only knew them, since they were Paraffins. The others, he had no idea existed. Sure, Kaltag and Starbuck had pointed out a few of their school friends, but never really went into any detail. At his heavy sigh, Kaltag gave him a strange look.
"What's wrong, then?" he asked the Gryffindor. Harry merely shook his head and moved his potatoes around on his plate.
"Thinking," he replied. "About some things." Kaltag nodded, and sipped from his goblet.
"Quidditch practice?" he asked. "It's today, isn't it?" At Harry's nod, he grinned. "It's only your first practice, Harry. Not really official, since you have no full team yet."
"I know that, it's frustrating, is all."
"It always is. I've been assistant captain for two years," Kaltag disclosed. "And Gilliam always puts me in charge of tryouts. It's nerve racking when the fate of the team rests with my decision." Harry looked at the Being oddly. From the Paraffin boys' conversations, he knew Arthur Gilliam was the captain of their Sliatyckx team. Also from Kaltag's earlier descriptions, Harry found the Celestial to be a lot like Wood. "I'm also the one who has to find back-ups for each position. Imagine how our formal practices went; eighteen bodies in the air doing their own thing. That's frustrating."
"How do you manage?"
"That's the thing. You really can't." Harry's face fell and he flicked his gravy at the table. "But you try. And I always had help. You have Ron, and two other members to assist you."
"You're right."
"Always am." Harry playfully tapped Kaltag on his arm and began to find an interest in his food again.
"D'you think maybe we should start training some reserves?" he popped in, over a loud clicking of heels. "You all seem to have your replacements all ready set."
"No harm in being prepared." The Paraffin answered. "I'd start with the older years—like you and Ron—since next year's your last. And if you have any chasers in higher years, then replace them, also."
"Right." They ate for the next few minutes, talking about the two sports and tryouts, when Harry noticed his area was considerably darker.
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall's voice made the boy whip around to face his Transfiguration professor. She had the ever-present stern look on her wizened face, and her hands were clasped before her in a business-like manner. "The headmaster would like to see you in his office." As she clicked away, Harry's eyes fell on the head table, noting Dumbledore was nowhere in sight.
"What'd you do now?" Kaltag joked. "It's only the fourth day of school." Harry stepped over the table bench and collected his bag.
"Meet you at the pitch later?"
"Count on it." The young wizard ambled out of the great hall and took the familiar path to the headmaster's office. He had a sick feeling in his stomach, as he remembered the last time he had been there. Out of his fit of rage, Harry had broken and trashed his headmaster's office, furious that he'd led himself and others to a near-death situation.
And it was where he learned of the prophecy.
Perhaps if the old man had told him earlier than assuming he wasn't of proper age to hear it, many things could have been avoided. With some trepidation he realized he was before the stone gargoyle, it's eyes piercing through him, as it knew what Harry had done at the end of last school year.
"Er…" of course he didn't know the password. McGonagall hadn't told him anything. He started shooting off names of candies and other sweets off the top of his head, and a small voice in the far reaches of his mind stated that the password might be of a Celestial candy. No one had told them about the Beings and Entities' favorite sweets, so he may be stuck. It was just like Dumbledore to change the password in salute of another race. "Er, Ice Mice…Bertie Botts…Puking Pastilles!" The boy's brows flew into his hairline as the gargoyle leapt aside and granted him entry. As he ascended the magical escalator, Harry's face scrunched in confusion. "Puking Pastilles…?"
The loud grinding of stone on stone finally ended, as the stairs stopped, and Harry got off and walked toward the double oak doors of Dumbledore's office. Hesitantly, he rapped on the door, nervously scuffing his shoes on the floor.
"You may enter, Harry." Dumbledore's muffled voice proclaimed. Deeply sighing, Harry's hand reached out to grab the brass handle and push the door open, his eyes glued to the floor. His face was met with unnatural warmth about the room, though not from the fireplace. He wondered if Dumbledore was aware his room was so warm, or if the man simply acclimated himself already, not bothering to entertain guests within these four walls. Peeking upward, he spotted Fawkes, the headmaster's phoenix, perched on his roost, a slight trilling emitting from his beak. The bird appeared fairly kempt, his red and gold-feathered breast glossy in the sun and hearth light, brown talons gripping his stand. The last time he had set eyes on the classy phoenix, he had been a fledgling.
In the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
Where he, Dumbledore, and Sirius almost died, not to mention Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna. Blinking quickly to clear his thoughts, Harry focused on the phoenix.
Behind the bird, many bright glimmers caught the sunlight, beckoning Harry's intrigue to seek them out. Harry reluctantly lifted his view to take in the damage he had enacted in late June, but widened his green eyes in alarm. All of the things he had broken had been repaired or replaced, he could not tell; the table, the trinkets, the chairs—everything. They were all shiny, and joyous, like their owner, and gleaming like hundreds of little pearls of light behind Dumbledore.
Harry peered at the portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses of old, all of which were regarding him with caution and reprimand. Dumbledore sat behind his large desk, his hand clutching a quill and writing on an official-looking parchment, and his half-moon spectacles sliding down his aged nose. Looking up to greet his anxious guest, Dumbledore smiled at the Gryffindor, his blue eyes glittering in the firelight. Harry clutched his bag closer to himself, and wiped his forehead. A slight sweat from the heat seemed to break out over his body. Dumbledore looked cool and unworried, despite the sinewy beard and mass of hair sprouting from his body.
"Have a seat, Harry." Harry obeyed, nervously glancing around him. A few occupants of portraits eyed him furtively, not bothering to conceal their interest. Phineas Nigellus was nowhere to be found, Harry felt some relief at his absence. The headmaster surveyed Harry through his glasses, before setting his quill down and smiling. "How have you been, Mr. Potter?"
"All right, I guess." He uneasily answered. Fawkes preened his expansive reddish-gold wings, warbling a low note in contentment. He absently brought a hand up to swipe sweat off of his forehead when his fingers brushed his scar. The vision. "Actually, sir, I had a vision this morning." Dumbledore's cheerful face faltered, and his eyes darkened.
"Do you remember what it was about, Harry?"
"Voldemort is upset he cannot find the weapons." He blurted out. "His ally also says it was impossible for them to still be in existence." Dumbledore's wiry mass of eyebrows drew together in worry.
"Was he talking to his ally?" Harry shook his head.
"No, Pettigrew, sir." He stated. "Voldemort will stop at nothing to find this sword and this scepter. He says it will gain him victory against us." Harry tugged at his ear. "I hope they are safe enough, professor." Dumbledore nodded in distraction.
"They are, Mr. Potter. They are very well guarded." He looked at Harry. "Was there anything else?" Harry shook his head, messing up his hair once more. With a jovial smile, Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Harry. It must be a struggle for you to endure such. This burden." Harry stiffened. If the old coot was about to mention the prophecy, he didn't know what his actions would be. Luckily, the man smiled again and leaned on his desk. "Enough grave matters. How has your first week gone?" the Gryffindor motioned with his shoulders.
"Fine."
"I see you've made friends with Kaltagonus Smythe and his siblings. No doubt you construed they are Spiridon's children." Harry's smile was small, but content nonetheless. Dumbledore toyed with the neck of his robes in thought before beaming. "Well, on to more important matters." The teenager remained still and perplexed at why he was in the office, before they sidetracked themselves with Voldemort's doings.
"Okay, sir."
"First of all, congratulations to you and Mr. Weasley for making team captains," he praised. "And getting your position reinstated." Harry blushed.
"Thank you, sir, for lifting the ban."
"It was necessary." He responded. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two, in which Harry lessened the grip on his bag, which was turning his knuckles white, and the phoenix ruffled his feathers lightheartedly. Harry viewed a few of the crimson feathers falling to the ground, pushing itself against the conquering air. As he wiped at his somewhat perspiring forehead once more, Dumbledore glanced at his clock. "I know you have class in a few moments, so I will not keep you."
"All right." The younger wizard knew he had Charms in the minutes coming, so he modestly nodded, and shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. The headmaster smiled at the young boy, his eyes bright with something unreadable. Low murmuring could be heard from the paintings on the wall, some shuffling on about Harry's rude behavior in the last few months.
"I had the privilege and honor, last year, to have a student organization in my namesake. Dumbledore's Army?" Harry cringed. He wasn't reamed out last year for it. Fawkes quavered a heartening note before puffing himself up, mocking a red, feathery globe, and settling in his pile of aged ashes. "Furthermore, due to our ineffectual Defense instructor, you, Mr. Potter, took it upon yourself to assist students in defense, not only for the school, but for themselves. Because of your selfless actions, you went on with this society, against all ministry diktats and regulations. And you helped numbers of students pass the class, and their standardized tests. You should be proud, Harry. I am very proud of you." The teenager's throat was very dry, and his face colored a bit under slight saturation. He had made the headmaster proud. Not just 'proud'; very proud. His lips upturned in a suppressed smile.
"I am, sir." His scratchy, arid throat permitted him to say.
"Though we have a much better teacher for the class as of now, I do not want the organization to disband." Harry's eyes became saucers. Dumbledore actually wanted it to continue? The portraits reached a stint in their conversation, and Harry could only imagine the disbelief with which they eyed the current headmaster. "As I'm sure, you probably would have went on with it anyway," Harry flushed at the truth. "I am giving you permission to continue the Defense Association, with wizards and Celestials alike. I would also like you to extend the invitation to other houses." The Gryffindor knew the headmaster meant Slytherin and Aves. Fawkes trilled in a low, sluggish tone, as if to contradict the headmaster. Harry stifled a chuckle at sensing what the gallant phoenix must have thought, much like he did.
Good luck trying to get those Death Eaters to join.
"All right, sir." Dumbledore nodded in confirmation.
"What do you plan on training in this year, Harry?" The boy was taken aback by the question, as he hadn't really given the group much thought about curriculum. The question came out of the blue, and stumped the Gryffindor.
"Er….Well, sir," he was at a loss for words. "I was going to review the spells from last year, and teach some of the ones Professor Kenward would teach this year at the member's own pace." Harry's eyebrows furrowed in consideration before he shook his head. "But those are sixth year spells. Not exactly for first and second years. And if the group is going to be extended, I'd need a bigger room to house everyone." More and more thoughts and problems arose as Harry's sixteen-year-old mind flooded with issues. "But then the older years have N.E.W.T.s and Celestial testing. They would be wasting their time learning first year spells."
"How about you leave the first years to Professors Jace and Kenward?" Dumbledore suggested, his fingers steepled under his chin. "Do you plan on separating the groups by year?" Harry's thoughts surged into possible solutions before he shook his head, dropping his bag to the floor. Fawkes pecked at a loose feather, flinging it to the soft scarlet rug underneath his perch.
"No." he replied defeated. That would take too much time and energy. He didn't need someone like Zacharias Smith jeering at him and heading an uprising in the group. "But what if I separate them into classes? Three….Novices—first and second years with Professors Jace and Kenward. Intermediates or those in between with, say…Hermione or a trusted seventh year. And the Advanced or Elite classes with the stronger and more adept members?" he offered, hastily mopping a bead of sweat from falling into his eyes. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled wildly and he nodded. Harry was gladdened to note a few paintings muttered their agreement with the teenager's plan, earning scowls from their neighbors.
"Very organized, Harry." The boy nodded, his thoughts elsewhere. Glancing at the clock, the headmaster sat up in his chair and beamed at the boy. "I trust you and your assistants will be able to come up with finalized decisions?" Harry nodded in promise lifting his heavy bag to his shoulder once more. "I will have the heads of houses put up announcements in the common rooms, Mr. Potter. When would you like the first meeting?" Harry drooped at the query. It had to be an accessible date for everyone.
"Er…how about…Wednesday for the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and Thursday for the Ravenclaws and Slytherins?" it sounded odd to have Slytherins in the Defense Association, but Harry knew he had to be impartial to anyone if he was still the leader of the society. The headmaster inclined his head slightly, absently stroking his long white beard. Fawkes shrilled a lazy sound and hid his face under his wing.
"Eight o'clock in the great hall?" he proffered.
"And old members of all houses meet at six in the usual place." Both males agreed, and Harry stood to go. As he reached the door to turn the knob, the Gryffindor halted, and turned to face the curious face of his headmaster. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore." The old man's eyes sparkled in slight amusement before he bobbed his head.
"And thank you, Mr. Potter." Harry smiled and exited the overly warm office, nearly skipping down the chilled stairwell. The DA was finally back on, and had gone public. The school year was looking up.
………………….
Friday evening, Harry and Ron walked out to the Quidditch Pitch shouldering their brooms. They had informed the team the day prior to today's practice, and proceeded to plan out what the agenda held today. They wore their usual robes, since today wasn't a formal practice, and they weren't to spend much time out on the pitch tonight. Madam Hooch had promised to leave the crate of gear out on the pitch for them, and gave Harry the key to the broom shed to return it.
Not many knew that both boys were co-captains, save the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Hermione, and the Smythe boys. Harry was glad Malfoy hadn't loaded the ammunition to shoot out taunts at him, for getting yet another prestigious recognition. Besides, the Gryffindor was only fully captaining the Slytherin and Ravenclaw matches, one of which was next month, and the other, sometime next year. They would play Hufflepuff in December, right before the break.
"The game after ours is Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff, right?" Ron asked a few seconds later. Harry nodded in affirmation.
"Then Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, and us versus Hufflepuff. Slytherin plays Hufflepuff in February, and we have a go at Ravenclaw in March. And when we make the final, we'll be playing whoever's left over." He explained.
"Did Kaltag say anything about Sliatyckx matches?" the red head asked as they turned into the entrance hall. Harry shook his head negative.
"McGonagall hasn't said anything either. I don't think they will be playing." Both young men wilted at the thought, but kept their hopes up as they inhaled the fresh, early evening air. The sun hung limply between the mountains in the west, cascading the sky with deep tangerines, mustards, and rosy pinks. Trotting to the pitch, the best friends continued to talk on various topics within sports, including the possibility of another Quidditch Cup, this time in Brazil.
"Seamus told me the Tutshill Tornadoes are facing Ireland this year," Ron revealed. "I don't think that's true."
"I thought it was the Tarapoto Tree-Skimmers and the Fitchburg Finches." Harry divulged, creasing his dark eyebrows. "Or the Vrasta Vultures and the Tree-Skimmers." Ron's ear tips glowed bright red at the mention of Viktor Krum's team. Harry gripped his broom tighter, waiting for Ron to chew the famous seeker out. He still had it in for the man since he took Hermione to the Yule Ball in their fourth year.
"Thought Krum got traded to the Goblins in Poland," he spoke through slightly clenched teeth. "Not far enough, if you ask me."
"He has been lying low since the tournament," Harry told his best friend. "Haven't really heard much about him." Ron took on a satisfied expression.
"The less, the better." He replied smugly. "I hope Hermione still isn't writing to that git." The crimson of his ears spread evenly over his cheeks and he balled his hands into fists. "She was writing to him all last year, remember?"
"I remember."
"Her expression every time she received a response!"
"Quite excited, she was…"
"And how she'd write those lengthy replies to Icky Vicky!" his face burned. Harry mused he could feel the boy giving off heat from his position.
"Pages and pages; they were books, in fact…"
"What does she see in him, anyway?" an annoyed tone curved in the keeper's voice.
"What, indeed, Ronald…." The two had finally reached the large field, Ron dragging his Cleansweep resentfully, and Harry finding the trunk of equipment. They only needed the quaffle, snitch, bat and bludger tonight. Nothing for a long amount of time. "Ron, can you levitate the crate to the center of the field?" Ron, preoccupied with his own thoughts of destroying a certain Bulgarian seeker, nodded and whipped out his wand. Harry looked over the vast lawn and out at the stands. They were completely empty this evening, and quiet. He heard a loud bang from behind him and turned to see Ron's falsely sheepish grin, and the trunk of equipment sprawled in the bleachers. The Gryffindor seeker heard the other teenager restate the levitation charm, efficiently raising the crate again.
"Sorry about that," he apologized. "Wasn't paying attention." Harry motioned for him to continue to the center of the pitch, as he looked down at his Firebolt. It had been some time since he had flown the broom. As if urging him with its shine under the waning sunlight, the broom summoned him for a long awaited ride. Harry flung one leg over the slender piece of wood and kicked off the ground hard, shooting swiftly in the air.
The sultry September air sliced through his short, raven tresses, and beat into his skin. The feel of the broom within his grasp, the air passing through his robes, his icy clothes clinging to his body…he had missed this. The teenager rose higher and higher in the air, making a few practice loops on his broom, before he sharply pointed the expensive Firebolt back toward the pitch. Hearing the dull roar of the wind streaking past his ears, and feeling the iciness of the air, Harry could almost see the lush green of the lawn in his sight. Just before he crashed into the ground, the skilled seeker feinted, executing a perfect Wronski Feint, and gliding back into the air.
As he surveyed the pitch below him, Harry circled overhead to see many dots entering the pitch, some black, others a pale blue. With a gentle tip of the handle toward the ground, the Firebolt automatically flew down to greet the others, as if it knew Harry's very thoughts. Upon closer inspection, Harry grinned at Ginny, Andrew Kirke, Kaltag, Starbuck, Yorick, Icarus and Thanos, along with three of Yorick's younger second year sisters. When he touched down, Ron had opened the trunk and tossed the quaffle to Ginny and a bat to Kirke. The jumping bludgers shook the rickety box, anxious to whiz into the air to wreak havoc.
"Looking good, Harry." Yorick commented.
"Let's sit in the stands, everyone." Starbuck didn't wait for them to listen, and headed to the nearest bleacher. The other seven followed, leaving the four Gryffindors on the ground. Harry held his Firebolt in his hand and started as the torches around the pitch lit to light up the grounds. They had always done so when a team had a practice. Ginny tucked the quaffle under her arm, and held up her own Cleansweep, given to her by her brothers for her birthday. Kirke was taking a few practice swings with his bat, as Ron knelt beside the coffer to release one of the jumping bludgers. They strained against their belts, grumbling in an odd language only they understood.
"Now then," he started. "Welcome back, Andrew and Ginny. As you can see, we've much to do, replacing Jack and two chasers. After much deliberation, we've also decided to pick reserves for our positions, since some of us will be leaving soon." Ginny and Kirke nodded in understanding, toying with their Quidditch equipment.
"When are we having tryouts?" Kirke, the fifth year asked, studying his bat a bit closer.
"Sometime next week. McGonagall hasn't exactly scheduled it yet." Harry answered. "I expect Saturday or Sunday." Both fifth years nodded, and Harry glanced at the quietly chattering group in the stands.
"So what are we doing tonight?" Ginny queried, twirling the quaffle with one hand. Harry vigorously rubbed a dull spot to a shine on his Firebolt with a piece of his robe.
"Just a few warm up shots, whacks, and catches between us. Nothing heavy as of yet. Ready?" he turned to the enthused Kirke. With a firm incline of his head, Ron released the bludger and the snitch, which Harry had just noticed was struggling in his grasp. Following it quickly, Kirke mounted his broom and took off after the offending metal ball, knocking it several times with his bat. Ginny took to the air with the quaffle, trailed by Ron and Harry who mounted their Cleansweep and Firebolt. As Ron defended the giant hoops at the end of the field, Harry chased after the snitch.
The golden ball zipped in and out of sight, barely keeping Harry on his toes, but the trained seeker enjoyed the thrill of the chase. Taking his eyes off the prize, Harry watched as Kirke defended Ginny expertly from the bludger; as he recalled last year, Katie Bell had said neither of the new beaters were brilliant. It seemed that Kirke had practiced over the summer. Ron made many threatening figure eights before the three hoops, which would intimidate any chaser. Ginny, however, was another story.
The once replacement seeker zoomed around on her broom trying to fake Ron out, and lobbed the ball at her brother. Harry could definitely tell Ron was telling the truth about his skill at the hoops; he caught Ginny's quaffle and threw it back at her. Kirke was also doing a fantastic job protecting the outstanding chaser. If he had more like them, the Gryffindor Quidditch team would be impossible to beat.
A glint of gold whizzed past the talented seeker, and Harry shot after it. It darted around as a diversionary tactic; its erratic motions no match for the brilliant Firebolt beneath the Boy-Who-Lived. Stretching his hand out far, his fingertips hardly grazing the fluttering wings of the snitch, Harry closed his hand over the grappling ball, shooting around to the others on the far end of the pitch. Light applause barely caught his ears as the Gryffindor reddened and touched down on land with his teammates. Kirke was fighting with the mean-spirited bludger, barely able to keep it between his fingertips.
"Brilliant!" Icarus called from the stands. "Brilliant air work, mates!" Harry noted Ginny, Ron and Kirke had all worked up quite a sweat from their informal training, and he was somewhat dry. The sun had entirely fallen behind the far mountains, making the lit torches burn brighter on the pitch. Dinner was sure to take place in a few minutes, so Harry told the others he'd let them know when the tryouts would be. Kirke and Ginny walked back up to the castle with everyone in the stands, save Kaltagonus, leaving the three captains to wrestle the bludger back into the crate. Putting the quaffle and snitch in their rightful places, Kaltag offered to levitate the trunk back to the broom shed, while Harry and Ron carried their brooms. The seeker's mind weighed heavily on the past day, with classes, Quidditch and Dumbledore…he couldn't bear to ponder the amount of homework he had this weekend.
"Oy, Harry," Ron spoke, his voice slightly breathless. "Forgot to ask you, what did Dumbledore want today?" Harry pulled a few loose strands of hair from his forehead and flicked them toward the ground.
"He's approved the DA," he revealed. "He wants to keep it." Ron's expression brightened, and he clung to his Cleansweep Seven tighter.
"That's good, mate."
"So when are you letting new members join?" Kaltag asked, rushing ahead to the broom storage, Harry opening the door with a set of magical keys.
"We'll have to discuss that tomorrow. I need to consult you and your siblings' help, also." Kaltag set the dark crate down and ended the spell, tucking his wand back in the fold of his robes. Closing and sealing the door, Harry looked between the two boys. "In the Room of Requirement. After breakfast tomorrow." The three didn't speak more about the subject as they continued up the small slant of hill toward the glittering lights in the castle.
…………..
Breakfast at Hogwarts was seemingly empty, as it was the first weekend after the first week of school. Many students chose to remain buried under their pillows and blankets, set on sleeping in this morning. The Gryffindor and Paraffin table scarcely had anyone, with the exception of a few first, fifth and sixth years, and an occasional seventh year. Fatigued eyes met in acknowledgement and nothing more, allowing the students a morning's peace. Professors sat at the head table, wide-eyed and merry (or as merry as Snape and McGonagall's stern looks could extend), much to the irritation of the students. The only instructor that seemed to take a leaf out of the students' book was, of course, Professor Armistead Jace. And he was missing.
Harry rubbed at his still bleary eyes and chewed tiredly on his flapjacks. It wasn't very early in the morning, nor was it very late. It was around the time the post usually arrived, so more students would undoubtedly be joining them, making the hall raucous once more. Even Ron appeared drowsy today, and he was never at the edge of unconsciousness at any meal. Hermione, of course, was as spry and upbeat as always, babbling to a near lively Nikola about her homework load. Starbuck watched the doors of the hall carefully as many entered and sat to eat breakfast, but he did it more out of boredom than real interest. Kaltag twirled his sausage in his scrambled eggs before popping it in his mouth and chewing slowly.
"Why are we up this early again?" Ron asked, for what was probably the third time that morning. Hermione huffed and speared a sausage in annoyance.
"We're going to the Room of Requirement, Ronald. To discuss the Defense Association. Stop asking, you already know the answer." She hissed. The Weasley boy merely smirked slothfully, which didn't quite reach his brown eyes.
"Don't answer; you already know what the question is." He countered, munching with more verve. With a wide yawn, the redhead rubbed his eyes and leaned on his palm. "Why did we have to get up this early? We could've gone later." More Paradors took a seat at the table, and the noise level in the hall turned up considerably.
"The afternoon is dedicated to homework, Ronald." Hermione sighed in impatience. "Which I doubt you'd do, anyway."
"Oh, leave it out," a frustrated Ginny grumbled to the arguing friends, plopping in a seat next to Harry. "Always arguing! Shut it, already." Both Gryffindor prefects reddened and returned to their breakfasts. Harry pondered keeping Ginny around more often to end his best friends' rows. Just as the double doors opened to admit the Malfoy/Xenik clique, or 'Manik' as Nikola dubbed them, hundreds of owls flapped through the open windows of the great hall, dropping missives and packages to their owners. Among the various colors of wings was Hermes, the messenger of the Celestials, and Icarus' father, also delivering things for Celestial students and professors.
Pig twittered madly around Ron and Ginny, doing impressive form eights and loops around their red heads. With a joint effort, both Weasleys plucked the tiny owl from the air and pulled off the large rolled newspaper. A handsome barn owl delivered a newspaper also to Hermione, and she handed him a Knut in his talon sack, and a few strips of bacon. Chomping on more eggs, Harry watched as Kaltag and Starbuck equally read over the front page of the Olympic Herald, their brows furrowing at the headlines. Taking a quick sip from his chalice of milk, Harry wiped his white mustache with his jersey sleeve and looked over the assorted tables of Hogwarts. Voices, mostly female, blared louder as the hall was now full of the student populace, no doubt reading their mail and other articles in the Daily Prophet.
Harry hadn't had the wizarding newspaper delivered to him anymore, since he could always nick Hermione's paper when she left them out. Nothing worthwhile was happening, bar the low, sporadic Death Eater activity, but since Harry received a front-row seat in the inner workings of the Dark Lord's group, there was no reason to get the paper anymore. Besides, if there were any mind-blowing events or occurrences, Hogwarts' grapevine would without hesitation spread it like wildfire in half an hour. A desperately stifled snicker was heard down the table, gaining Harry's attention. The Death Eaters couldn't have done something amusing. A huff of fury and irritation was heard on the other side of Nikola, and the Gryffindor gazed upward to find Hermione's brown eyes glued to the front page of the Prophet. She seemed to exude a tense anger that warded all people off. Even Nikola scooted a bit farther from her.
"What?" Harry inquired. A subdued snort made its way to his sharp hearing and Harry knew he could place that snort anywhere.
Ron.
The Gryffindor prefect's façade was clearly amused, and he shook his head, shooting furtive glances at his prefect partner.
"Did he write and tell you that, Hermione?" he teased. "Surely, you can't be shocked by this news." The witch only sent the Weasley male a solid, glare of sharp daggers before her eyes raced over the words. Many girls around him gave disappointed huffs and cries, including histrionic Lavender and Parvati.
"What's going on?" he asked his only Gryffindor chaser. Ginny raised an eyebrow at the sixth year, and snatched the paper directly from under Ron's nose.
"No, I was not reading that." he spoke mockingly. Ginny overlooked her brother's exclamation and placed the paper in Harry's hands, returning to wallow tiredly in her breakfast. As his emerald eyes skimmed over the bold, black headline, Harry felt slight sympathy for his bushy-haired, bossy friend.
VIKTOR KRUM IN A FAMILY WAY!
……………
"I don't think he knew what he was getting into," Kaltag stated, reading over the article in a comfy, round-backed, yellow armchair. "Neither did this Ulrike Radoslav." His azure eyes were deadlocked on the Daily Prophet article before him, reading and rereading the article by columnist Hans Dukakis. Hermione appeared indifferent and impassive to the Being's comment, scribbling furiously on her parchment. Ron set his brown eyes on her, watching her every move, his narrowed eyes waiting. After a few more minutes of his stalking, Hermione glowered at the boy.
"What?" she hissed. Ron steadied his staring and let his eyebrows lose themselves in his fringe.
"Go ahead." She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I know you want to do it." Hermione forced her eyes into slits.
"Do what?" Ron looked at her incredulously.
"Go crazy. Scream. You're peeved Krum did this." Hermione rolled her large, astute eyes.
"Oh, honestly, Ron. It wasn't like he and I were going steady." She confessed. "We were pen pals. Since we met we've only been friends." It was Ron's turn to narrow his eyes.
"Friends send each other love letters?" he retorted. Hermione contorted her face with an ill expression.
"We sent each other normal, standard, letters, Ronald." She divulged. "And why are we discussing this? I've no obligation to justify myself to you." Ron colored at her cool comment, finding no fault in it.
"Vicky's a father now. What are you, Baby Krum's godmother?"
"Can we please get back to what we were doing?" Harry interrupted. It was times like these he needed Ginny to shut both the sixth year prefects up, and keep them silent. Ron scrunched his face in subdued annoyance, whilst Hermione resumed her scratching on parchment. Nikola and Starbuck were walking around the Room of Requirement, admiring the comfy armchairs and warm fire. There was a board table behind the couches and chairs, in case the six wanted to use a hard surface for their meeting. Starbuck plopped between Nikola and Hermione on the blue couch, giving Harry an awed look.
"I don't see why you don't come here often," he spoke, settling on the sofa. "It's perfect if you want to get away."
"And how do you hold meetings in here? Doesn't look like its enough room for everyone." Nikola added.
"The Room of Requirement never looks the same, unless you need the same room. It gives you what you require." Harry lectured. "I thought of a comfy place where we can sit and have a conversation. And this is what it came up with." Both Celestials nodded in impressiveness. "For Defense meetings, it's large an has loads of books and cushions for every single person." Ron had chewed on a few of the biscuits the room provided for the six.
"On to business," Hermione announced. "What did you need us here for, Harry?" The Gryffindor sighed, and settled in a seat facing away from the hearth, and toward the others in the room.
"Well, I was called to Dumbledore's office yesterday, and he approved the DA. We started talking about how we can cater to everyone's needs, and how we'd be more effective if we weren't teaching everyone basic first year spells." Hermione and Kaltag nodded in agreement, while Ron stuffed another biscuit into his mouth. "The headmaster and I have come up with a Defense Association split into three groups: Novice, Intermediate, and Elite.
"Novice will be for first and second years only, and Dumbledore's decided to let Kenward and Jace run it." Hermione shifted slightly and gave Harry a concerned look.
"Are you sure you want them to teach the first and second years?" she sought to confirm. He nodded firmly.
"Definitely. With only two groups, I think it will work better."
"I agree," Kaltag spoke up, grabbing a sheet of parchment and a quill. "Lightens your load."
"Precisely. The Intermediates will probably be run by me or you, Hermione." The prefect looked flattered at the offer. "And the Elite will be the older years, and those who are efficient duelers." Ron cocked his head to the side.
"How do we know for sure?" At this, Harry heaved a great breath. He had thought about it, and came up with a decision.
"I've decided to make the higher two groups available by audition only." He disclosed to the other five. Ron folded his arm across his chest.
"Audition? You mean, like, spells?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed. "We give them standard spells—"
"The Disarming Spell, the Impediment Jinx," Hermione listed. "And others." The Gryffindor male nodded.
"Give them standard spells. The first two will be Intermediary spells, and the last two, advanced. If they do well on their attempts of the last two, then they'll be placed in the Elite. If not, they're down to the second level." Harry clarified, seizing a sheet of parchment and a quill. "All right, spells for both?" He poised his quill over the parchment to copy down their suggestions.
"The Severing Spell," Hermione offered. Harry jotted it down quickly. "And the Impediment Jinx, Disarming Spell."
"Stunning Spell," Harry murmured. "Immobile Charm…" They were all standard spells for third and fourth years. At least some of the current DA members should perform them.
"Throw in the Patronus Charm as extra, Harry," Ron suggested. "If they can at least produce a wisp of smoke, the would be in the advanced class." Harry pointed his quill at Ron.
"Great idea." He praised. Kaltag tapped his quill against his own parchment, thinking silently to himself.
"How many spells are you planning to give them?" he asked.
"Four," the green-eyed boy answered quickly. "And the Patronus as a bonus. I can't give them the exact same spells. I have to mix them up a bit." Kaltag nodded in thought, continuing his task of tapping the parchment.
"Full-Body Bind, mate," Ron spoke. "And the Summoning Charm."
"That's a definite," Hermione added. "Why didn't I think about that?" Ron rolled his eyes and bit his tongue to keep from retorting.
"Reductor Curse?" Starbuck offered? Harry grinned.
"That's a helpful one, that is." He hadn't told any of his Celestial friends about the Department of Mysteries, so it made sense they all looked at him in confusion.
"And how about the Shield Charm?" Nikola recommended. "We can send a harmless spell at them, and see how it holds up against their shield." Kaltag released a light chortle.
"More fun for us." He enlightened.
"First and second years don't have to test, right?" Nikola queried.
"Nope," Harry replied. "They're automatically in the Novice level."
"This'll be a good year," Ron grinned, scratching his quill on the yellowed paper. "Slytherins'll be fuming." Harry stopped writing abruptly and raised his emerald eyes to view Ron. He had completely forgotten.
"Galleon calls again, Harry? I mean, I know we're official, and all, but I want to know if I need to make new…Harry?" Hermione questioned. "What's wrong?" Every eye landed on the Gryffindor, still looking at Ron. The only Weasley present lowered his red brows.
"What?" Harry mussed his hair into a tangle before exhaling seriously.
"Dumbledore is putting up announcements in every common room," the raven-haired boy began. "So we may have Slytherins in the Defense Association." Ron sputtered and stood up, knocking the parchment and quill out of his lap.
"IS HE MAD?" he shouted. Hermione glared at the prefect. "D'YOU REALIZE MALFOY AND HIS EVIL GOONS COULD JOIN? DO YOU WANT THAT KIND OF TROUBLE?"
"Sit down and shut you mouth, Ronald!" Hermione hissed. Ron gave Hermione a dark look but returned his flinch-worthy glare on Harry.
"Look, Ron," he initiated calmly. "You've got to understand, Dumbledore won't be happy if we just refuse Slytherins. If we do, there will be no more DA."
"Harry's right, Ron." Nikola supported.
"Ron, not all Slytherins are bound to be Death Eaters," Hermione elucidated in a gentle tone. Ron masked his face in disbelief. "There are some who probably don't want to be, as much as we refuse to believe. But the fact is, not all Slytherins are evil." Ron fell into his chair ungracefully, tightly interlocking his arms.
"But what if they join to spy?" he advocated. Harry's eyebrows ducked into his messy hairline. He hadn't really considered that. "Then You-Know-Who would know everything. We can't have that now, can we?"
"It's a risk we must take," Harry argued, glancing at Starbuck. Squinting his orbs, he faced the Being. "You can read minds, right?" The boy was confused at the swift change of topic. Ron's face switched from one of anger to one of shock.
"Only if—"
"The thoughts pose a danger to the school or an individual," Harry ended with a smirk. Starbuck's face twitched in realization, while his brother folded his leaned against one arm of the chair.
"So if a Slytherin is a spy, then you'd hear his or her thoughts." Kaltag smirked. "Good thinking, Harry." Ron raised his eyebrow, and looked between Harry and Starbuck.
"When were you planning on telling me you could read minds?" he asked. Starbuck shrugged smugly.
"When you decide to murder someone one day." Ron nodded.
"Seems fair."
"Mm."
"All right, I've got the spells down for both levels, and we'll sort them out later. Let's adjourn to the table to get our member lists situated." Harry ordered. Everyone reluctantly stood from their cozy seats and budged to the dark cherry table behind the sofa. Harry snorted when Ron grabbed the plate of biscuits and followed the others, taking his seat between Harry and Kaltag. Once all were seated and their parchments ready, Harry commenced. He had asked Starbuck, Nikola, and Kaltag the previous night to list any of the Celestials they think would be interested in the Association, since he didn't know many that well. "All right, Nikola, we'll start with the females. Voltaire?" Nikola stacked a few parchments underneath one, and cleared her throat.
"We've got a good list of fifth, sixth and seventh years." She reported. "Tam Xu, top of Voltaire class, followed by the second, Isabella Lancaster. We've got Yorick's older sister, Amara, Endymion's younger sister, Selene Magnus, Basil's younger sister, Ioannes, and…Olivia Kane, Melia Iorgos, Elia Fairfax and Etienne Flannery. They're about Intermediate or Elite level." Harry nodded, scribbling some notes down.
"Paraffins?"
"Hardly any work there," she tittered. "All the sixth year girls; Kiden Kaenslar, Tess Kaenslar, Raelin Maddox, Elise Flannery, Genevieve Talbot, and the second and first years can decide for themselves." The Gryffindor organizer scratched his head and motioned for her to go on.
"Brittlebore?" Starbuck took over.
"Delia Xantho, Canace Laertes, Elsa Flannery…." And she went on to list many others, and had none to suggest for Aves. Harry's eyes goggled. The list was getting pretty lengthy. He wondered how he'd find the strength to teach such a large number.
"All right, Voltaire males," Kaltag began. "Jason Quon, Guan-yin Cheng, Aleron Layland, Cadmus Anatole…." Kaltag continued to name Voltaires.
"Right, then, Brittlebores?" a droopy-eyed Ron directed to Starbuck, who sighed and ruffled his wavy, blonde hair. The prefect seized another biscuit and chewed it while the Being began.
"Ulan Layland, Giovanni Murdock, Stavros Niendar, Proteus Naiad, Prashin Singh, Chad Stephens," the Being paused to cover his mouth and yawn before continuing. "Sorry; Fletcher Gresham…." Harry himself had trouble keeping his eyes open, and it was still morning. This tedious meeting was almost over.
"Paraffins," a bright-eyed Hermione conducted. "Who've you got?"
"All of the sixth years," Kaltag took over, "Arthur Gilliam, Orion Lucas, Simon Mitte…." The Celestial called out a few more names before he finished. "That's it." Ron had long since fell into a gentle nap before he lifted his head from his arms.
"Can we go now?" he griped, brushing crumbs off of his vermilion cheek. Hermione raised her eyebrow at the boy.
"You'd rather do homework now then continue discussing the DA?" she questioned crossly. Ron's eyes enlarged and he sat up completely.
"Can't have that, now can we?" Ron chuckled nervously, his rosy face giving away his true feelings. Kaltag shot Harry an amused look. He leaned close to Harry's ear, cautiously glancing at Ron.
"I'm sure Vicky wouldn't mind." Harry cleared his throat audibly to cover the guffaw ready to burst from his throat.
……………..
Wednesday finally dawned on Hogwarts School, much to the anxiety of Harry Potter. He paced in the Room of Requirement, commonly known as Dumbledore's Army Base, by Ginny, nervously fluffing pillows and straightening the books on the shelf. Hermione occupied a feathery cushion and read from one of the books, while Ron sparred playfully with the magical dummy the room provided. Next to Hermione's foot was an entire basket full of fake Galleons and what appeared to be silver and gold bracelets.
Harry had come up with the idea of keeping the Galleons for the Elite members, but having bands and bracelets for the Intermediate and Novice members. Gold would be for Kenward and Jace's class, while silver would be for the second level students. It had taken some time and expert charm work, but Hermione pulled it off.
Across from Hermione sat Kaltag, nonchalantly turning a page in a borrowed tome, and once in a while occupying himself with his silver chain. Harry treaded the familiar pacing path he had committed to memory on the floor, glancing at the clock every few moments. It was ten minutes to six. The members of last year's Defense Association should be piling in about now. Ron cried a fake karate yell and jabbed the tan dummy in the face, where the jaw would have been.
"Maybe we should teach physical combat," he suggested, elbowing the mannequin in its stuffy abdomen. "It may come in handy." Kaltag chortled.
"Right. I can just imagine Harry sucker-punching Voldemort in his jaw," he countered. "I'd pay to see it, actually…." Ron frowned at Kaltag.
"What's wrong with it? Don't they teach you physical combat in Aripedes?" he asked, halting momentarily to snap his fingers in thought. Ron stamped his foot hard and exclaimed, "Aha! In Chiron's class, right?" Kaltag nodded, idly turning an antiqued page.
"Mental, physical, and weaponry." He murmured distractedly. Ron grinned triumphantly.
"See? Why can't we?" he carried on with slapping the model around, twisting its legs and choking it.
"Because wizards and witches haven't trained since their first year," Nikola answered, entering the room with Starbuck and Ginny. "As Celestial students have." Ginny took the closest bolster toward Harry, watching the DA leader pace in hilarity. Ron scowled at the dummy and punched it sorely out of resentment.
"That's not fair." He groused, kicking the mannequin. Harry stopped to watch his best friend with interest. Turning to Ginny, who had a wide smirk on her face, he tilted his head a bit.
"Is he always this easily amused?" he asked the female Weasley. She raised an eyebrow.
"Have you met our father, Harry?" she rejoined. Harry grinned and stopped his pacing to sit beside Ginny. Starbuck was jadedly levitating pillows with his forces and rearranging them; while Nikola took one of the iron fire-pokers in her hand and bent it clear in a parabolic shape. Harry had never seen firsthand what her powers were, but he was impressed. Beings and wizards just had to be intimidated by her. He was distracted when the door opened to admit Neville, Dean and Seamus, followed by Parvati and Lavender. Padma Patil entered with Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein.
Luna dreamily drifted in, taking a seat by Neville, her large eyes scanning the room, settling on Ron wrestling with the mannequin. The Gryffindor keeper had the figurine in a headlock, pounding its face.
"Be careful, Ronald," her wistful voice warned. "Cotton-Dwelling Doxies could be in there, waiting to bite your knuckles." Hermione emitted a loud, contradictory huff from her cushion, shaking her head slightly behind her book. Luna either ignored or did not catch it. Ginny excused herself and went to sit with Neville and Luna, leaving Harry to stand and watch the door.
More students spilled into the DA area, including Justin, Ernie, Hannah and Susan from Hufflepuff. Harry was pleased to observe several glowers directed at Zacharias Smith as he entered by himself, perplexed at why the students were still wishing harm on him. Ron even began to punch the test mannequin harder, his face smoldering a deep crimson, contending his hair. After a few Ravenclaws entered, Harry raised an eyebrow when Cho and Michael walked in, hand in hand.
The striking Asian Ravenclaw avoided making contact with Harry's emerald eyes as she walked in the room. Michael also looked away from Ginny. But had the two actually found the courage to glance at their former acquaintances, they would not have found any fiery hurt; just coolness and lack of concern. Though bravery was not one of Ravenclaw's house principals. Harry shook his head at the two and sighed. So it was Cho's last year here.
Thank goodness.
Harry was just thrilled to not have to drown in the river of tears that was Cho Chang, and he inwardly wished Michael the best of luck. With N.E.W.T.s and her emotions running high, the boy would be better off permanently wearing a raincoat. Six o'clock rolled around, and Harry was signaled of such when both Hermione and Kaltag snapped their books shut, and turned to face the boy. Ron abandoned the model to plop beside Hermione's cushion, his face looking worn and beat. Perhaps the dummy exacted more damage then he did. Tidying his robes and folding his hands in front of him, Harry flashed an anxious grin at his 'students.'
"Welcome back to the Defense Association." He greeted. "I hope you all had a productive summer, and remembered what was taught from last year." He turned to Kaltag and Star and Nikola in the back, coughing slightly. "Er, for those of you who don't know, the DA has been sanctioned by the headmaster, and we are an official organization." Many cheers and applause met this announcement, and Harry blinked away the bright spots before his eyes when a bright white flash from Colin Creevey's camera snapped a picture from his right. "This means were going to have new recruits joining us soon, but first, we must discuss this year's procedure.
"Regardless of whether you're a member or not, we will have trials for everyone, because we have now instituted a three-level organization structure." The room buzzed with low murmurs as students turned to talk with their friends about the new rule.
"Why've we got to try out?" Zacharias' grating voice called from the back. Every eye turned to glower at the Hufflepuff. Harry bridled a bit.
"Because we need know your level of skill," Kaltag answered. "Though some of you may think you're hotshots and can handle it, you may not. There's nothing to be ashamed of. We're all going through the exams." Zacharias looked peeved at the Being, but kept his mouth securely shut. Harry beamed gratefully at the Celestial.
"Thank you, Kaltag. Now, the three levels are Novice, Intermediate, and Elite." He described. "Right now, you're all on the Intermediate Level. First and second years are all on the Novice level, in spite of skill. You all will perform certain spells we ask you to, and whatever spells you achieve correctly, that's where you'll be sorted. Any questions?" No one raised their hands, and many murmurs of "No" were heard.
"You'll test with this mannequin here," he gestured to the awkward standing figure, "and you'll be placed in a group." Harry's eyes scanned the crowd for any bewildered faces, and he unfortunately happened upon Cho and Michael cuddling on a pillow in the back. Resisting the strong impulse to roll his eyes, Harry went on. "This year, we're focusing on the students with N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s," his eyes lingered on Ginny's darkening face, "to get you all to pass with high scores. I'm not here to replace Professor Kenward; he seems to be a brilliant teacher, and he'll teach you the main Defense routes. We're practicing; in case something happens at this school we need to be ready to fight." Many faces turned grave and eyes dulled as they locked onto Harry's green orbs.
"The meeting in the great hall isn't really for you all. It basically repeats what I am saying tonight, save a few things." Harry turned to Hermione and Ron to see if he had forgotten anything. The intelligent witch nudged the basket at her side with her knee and gave the boy a scolding look. "Right. Also, turn in your Galleons when you come up later to test. I know you're probably all a bit rusty, so tonight we're going to review the Disarming Spell before starting." Zacharias groaned aloud, and received a heavy pillow to the face by an annoyed Ginny. The Gryffindor chaser's eyes twinkled madly with mirth and she blushed under Harry's scrutiny. Smiling widely, Harry couldn't help but notice the satisfied grins adorning various members' faces at Zacharias' expense. "Partner up, and disarm each other only. I'll let you know when the tests will begin."
A din of noise began as several members found a cohort and soon jets of red light tinted the room in cherry. A few members, like Hannah and Zacharias, were very rusty on the spell, but managed it after a few tries. Harry was especially proud Neville successfully disarmed Seamus on his first try, his new wand working out perfectly.
Cho and Michael, of course, paired up, Michael successfully disarming Cho, but the girl ineffectively produced enough power in the spell. Harry had walked around the room to watch groups and correct some shoddy wand work, until he navigated toward Hermione, Ron and Kaltag. The Being effectively disarmed both prefects at the same time, their wands falling gracefully into his hands.
"Best three out of three?" he quirked an eyebrow and asked, tossing their wands back to them. Ron muttered something to the Being, rubbing his arm and looking at Hermione. The witch was eyeing the Paraffin prefect suspiciously, her brown eyes searching his crystal blue ones.
"How'd you manage that?" she questioned. Kaltag shrugged. Harry walked over to the others and joined them. The Disarming Spell usually disarmed one victim at a time, never two, as he could not recall a time that ever happened. The Paraffin raised his eyebrows and lifted his wand.
"Expelliarmus!" he spoke, scarcely shouting. Harry felt his wand leave his grip and watched as it sailed into the boy's outstretched hand. Ron and Hermione's wands were with his, as well. Beaming at the others, Kaltag handed their wands back to their individual owners. "Best four out of four?"
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A/N: Revised chapter.
Chapter Eleven Clues
1). We'll find out who made what DA classes and the new members in the official first meeting of the DA Elite.
2). It's not easy being green….
3). Quidditch trials, and we hear from Sirius.
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