Following his duel with three trolls, Harry noticed everyone looking at him differently. It was to be expected, really; a single troll would be hard for an adult wizard to handle, and he'd taken out three as a first year. Unfortunately, though, Hermione and Daphne had migrated from good friends to the ranks of the 'admiring from a distance' for some reason and Harry found himself with only Su for genuine company.
Not that he minded. He and Su hadn't been as close as they could have been in his original timeline and this time around she was more of Hermione's friend than his, pairing with the muggleborn witch just as he tended to gravitate toward Daphne most of the time. So he decided that as long as people were behaving strangely, he might as well make the best of it and get to know his most enigmatic friend.
His best chance came each morning, as he took to the grounds to take a few laps around the quidditch pitch and Su staked out a spot near the lake for some sort of exercise that Harry vaguely recognized from one of Dudley's martial arts movies. Each time he reached that end of the pitch, he'd get to watch her go through part of the slow, graceful, almost dance-like routine before his path took him around the bend. And while she normally finished before him, waiting until he was done so they could walk back to the school together, Harry decided to push himself that morning so he could be the first one done, trotting down toward the lake to watch Su exercise.
Watching Su twist and turn through her intricate routine while working out with a pair of what appeared to be police batons, Harry debated asking for lessons as a way of securing an in with the girl. After a few more minutes of watching, he decided against it. All trying to do some of those moves would get him was a pulled muscle. Su eventually finished her workout and stood there motionless for a long minute, her long hair fluttering in the breeze. When she spoke, Harry barely heard it. "You have a question for me."
"Hmm. I guess we'll be signing you up for Divination with Professor Trelawney in third year." Su turned her head to the side enough for Harry to see the slight smile on her lips and he pressed on. "You're the only one who doesn't treat me weird after seeing three mountain trolls get fried. Not that I mind… but why?"
The black school robe Su threw on over her exercise clothes for modesty was resting on the ground and Harry bit his lip to avoid making a fool of himself as she bent at the waist to retrieve it, her already small shorts stretching tight over her posterior. Eleven, eleven, eleven, he reminded himself. A prior conviction for pedophilia would make getting a job - and a girlfriend - mighty hard after school. "You're familiar with Western magic, I presume? Using either a wand movement, an incantation, or both as a focus for your mind? Eventually moving on to silent and essentially still casting?" Harry nodded and Su waggled her wand back and forth. "Eastern magic is the same these days because we had to evolve when you gweilos came knocking. Before that, we used a slightly slower method that channeled more of a caster's power into each spell… but the results were a bit more spectacular. Sadly, grand results don't matter if you get killed before you finish casting and so it's fallen from use. That doesn't mean it's forgotten, though."
Harry scratched his head; he was no slouch mentally but even he had no idea where this was going. "Not that I mind the lecture on international magical history… but what does it have to do with why you're not treating me like Merlin with leprosy?"
"Tut tut, Harry. Don't interrupt the professor while she's teaching. It does tie together… because most of the old magic was elemental magic. While I can't create storms or call lightning…" Turning towards the lake, Su twirled her twin batons a moment, the shafts lighting up as a multitude of etched characters Harry hadn't even noticed before then began to glow blue. The batons moving at a feverish pace, she traced two glowing blue characters similar to the ones on her wand in midair, then a second set of two, and then used both batons to complete a final symbol for a string of five. "_Cīn gyùngsìng syhut seóin_!" Water surged up out of the lake, forming a foot wide pillar that rocketed toward Su until she twisted and jabbed one baton at Harry. The pillar curved smoothly, barely avoiding Su and drenching him instead. Harry sputtered in protest at the cold blast of water, throwing up a wandless shield to deflect it around and past him until she ended the spell. "…I do know a few things about elemental magic."
Looking down at his now thoroughly drenched body, Harry grimaced as he took a step and his sneakers let out a wet squelching noise. "How wonderful. Don't suppose you know any charms to dry my shoes, do you?" Strangely enough, anything beyond a basic warming charm had been too 'normal' for his training and so while he could theoretically overcharge one to take care of business… that might actually boil the flesh off his feet in the process.
"Actually… no. Sorry, can't help you there. Water here, not fire."
"Oh. Fabulous."
As the day of his second first quidditch game dawned cold and clear, Harry tried to summon up some of the nervousness and apprehension he'd had the first time, but it was impossible. This year's Slytherin team was dismal, relying entirely on brute force and causing enough injuries to allow their mediocre players to secure a win. He'd beaten them once already and with far less talent than he had now. This was going to be a cakewalk for him.
That, and he was really looking forward to seeing their secret weapon deployed against the elitist bastards.
Settling in for breakfast that morning with the rest of the quidditch team, Harry and Hermione exchanged little smiles as she plunked herself down next to Katie Bell, Su at her side as always and Daphne at his. To anyone else, it would appear as if Harry's friends were following him as always. If they only knew that Gryffindor now had an eighth man ready to take the field…
Way down the table where the rest of the first years were sitting, Harry could see Neville glaring at him. He just smirked and gave a cheerful wave before getting to work on his breakfast. After all, Merlin only knew how long the game might go and he didn't want to get hungry. But Neville… oh, that was a fun one. Ever since Samhuinn, the fat little bastard had been alternating between kissing his ass and cursing at him for not being friends. With anyone else, Harry would have recommended a St. Mungo's evaluation for some sort of multiple personality problem. In this case… it was pretty much just Neville being Neville as far as he could tell. Spoiled children didn't react well to the real world. Malfoy had been proof enough of that the first time around.
Speaking of Malfoy, he was an oddity in this universe. Apart from a few sneers here and there, the two of them had essentially ignored each other between the Remembrall incident and Samhuinn. But since then, the boy had taken to eyeing him uncertainly; he probably now knew that Harry held some sort of sway over his mother and perhaps wasn't sure what to make of his peer in light of that? Harry shrugged; as long as the little shit wasn't bugging him, he didn't care what Malfoy did.
Finally, game time came and Harry helped sneak Hermione into the changing rooms. Somehow she'd managed to escape notice so far, perhaps because everyone was focused on him being the youngest seeker in a century, and they didn't want to blow the surprise now. Even as the team lined up to take the field, Hermione was left behind to wait for the moment she was needed. "She's all set, right?" Wood looked nervous, idly tracing chaser maneuvers in the air with his fingers. "I mean, I hope we don't need her and all but…"
"Just keep your head in the game, Wood, and we won't have a need for her." Harry looked back and gave Hermione an apologetic smile before returning his gaze to the team's starting keeper. "After all, she only goes in if you get taken out. So as long as you avoid getting killed or something, you don't need to worry about how ready she is or isn't."
Wood nodded absently. "Right. Right." There were a series of increasingly loud cheers as Lee Jordan announced their names and Wood hoisted his broom up onto his shoulder. "Here we go. Good luck, all of you."
As they emerged onto the pitch, Harry looked around. Sadly, the 'Potter for Minister' banner from last time around was missing, but the new additions to the staff's box made it worth it. His parents were there, along with Sirius and Amy, his sisters, and Cassie. Sirius and James had even apparated out to retrieve Hermione's parents that morning, who seemed a bit confused at their inability to locate their daughter but nonetheless enthused.
Just like in all but one of the quidditch games he'd played in so far, Madam Hooch was waiting for them in the middle of the field as the two teams assembled. Her yellow eyes drifted over each of the players before focusing on Marcus Flint. "Now I want a nice fair game, all of you." Harry snorted derisively at that; as if the Slytherin team even knew the meaning of the word. Hooch eyed him for a moment before stepping back toward the ball crate. "Players, mount your brooms."
Hopping onto his Nimbus 2000, Harry hovered a few feet above the grass, twisting back and forth slowly. It still felt odd to be using this instead of his Firebolt, but sometimes one just had to work with what they were given. Besides, they'd hit the market in two years and he could be back on the familiar broom then. Terence Higgs glared his way and Harry responded by taking a page out of Hermione's book, offering up a two-fingered salute. The pureblood merely looked confused and Harry smirked. Ignorant bastards. Then Hooch's whistle sounded and they were up and off into the air as she hurled the quaffle skyward.
"And the quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor… excellent chaser that girl is, and rather attractive to boot…"
"Jordan!"
"Sorry, Professor."
Harry chuckled as he drifted lazily over the pitch, watching the quaffle fly back and forth. While Luna's commentary had been hilarious to listen to, there was just something about Lee Jordan that nobody could replace and he was glad to have the twins' friend back in the position.
"And she's really belting along up there, makes a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet… a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve… back to Johnson and… no, the Slytherins have taken the quaffle! Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the quaffle and off he goes! Flint flying like an eagle up there… he's going to sc… no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor keeper Wood! And the Gryffindors take the quaffle. That's chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and… ouch! That must have hurt, hit in the back of the shoulder by a bludger. Quaffle taken by the Slytherins… that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goals, but he's blocked by a bludger, sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which… nice play by the Gryffindor beater at any rate. And Johnson back in possession of the quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes… she's really flying… dodges a speeding bludger… the goal posts are ahead… come on now Angelina… keeper Bletchley dives… misses… Gryffindor scores!"
Cutting across the field, Harry held out his hand to high five Johnson for her excellent shot before pushing the broom back to top speed as he made a quick circuit of the pitch in search of his prey. Nothing. Not even Fred's wristwatch or something gold in the stands. Hopefully the snitch would make an appearance soon, or he'd be in for a long and boring afternoon…
"Slytherin in possession… Pucey ducks two bludgers as he heads for the goals… wait, here come beaters Derrick and Bole…" Harry cursed loudly as the Slytherin beaters slid into position to intercept the bludgers the Weasley twins had just batted at Pucey, sending them flying back at their opponents. Or in this case, opponent: Wood. "Wood dodges the first bludger and ohh! The second one hits him in the head! Just like his first game a few years ago, keeper Wood has taken a bludger to the skull and appears to be unconscious! And time has been called."
Harry hurtled over to the Gryffindor goal posts, spiraling down toward the ground to land near where Hooch and Pomfrey were looking over the injured Wood. "He's going to be out for a while. Yet another dose of Skele-Grow for that boy, all because of this foolish game. When will you lot learn?" Waving her wand, Pomfrey conjured a stretcher under wood and lifted it into the air, making her way off the pitch.
As the other players touched down behind Harry, Hooch turned her attention their way. "You have no keeper. Play on or forfeit, Gryffindor?"
"We'll take the entirety of our time out, if you don't mind? We have a reserve keeper we can field for the rest of the game." Hooch gave Harry an odd look, turning to the rest of the team for confirmation. When she received nods all around, she nodded her assent before heading back to the middle of the field and waving the Slytherin team down to the ground. Harry turned to his teammates. "Alright, go form up. I'll be back in a minute."
The other four turned to leave but Johnson held a hand up, stopping them as she stared at Harry. "Who died and left you assistant captain? You're the youngest one here. Why do you get to order the rest of us around?"
Harry just shrugged, ticking points off on his fingers. "Simple. My friend, my idea, I can zap you with lightning if you piss me off and most of all… because I just did. Now do you want me to go get Hermione so we can play on or should we forfeit?" He held Johnson's gaze for a moment before she looked away, leading the others off toward Hooch and the Slytherins. "Thought so." Shaking his head, Harry entered the changing room to find Hermione sitting on a bench, adjusting her leg guards. Her hair was already twisted into a braid to make it easier for her to don her helmet. "You ready?"
Snorting, Hermione grabbed the helmet waiting next to her on the bench in one hand and her broom in the other. "Not really. But seeing as how Wood just got himself concussed again… and may I just say that can't be good for his chances at passing the OWLs and NEWTs? No Wood means either I go in or you guys allow the Slytherins free reign of the goals, and I'd hate to have to face the Weasley twins if it was my fault that happened."
"True enough. Come on, then. No time like the present." Harry gestured to the door and Hermione managed a small smile before leading the way out onto the field. As they made their way over to where the rest of the players were waiting, silence slowly descended on the field. By the time they reached Madam Hooch, Harry could have heard a niffler fart. He grinned. Perfect.
Flint was the first to find his voice, staring at Hermione in horrified awe. "What the bloody fuck?"
That seemed to shake Hooch from her stupor and she shot the Slytherin captain a glare. "Flint! Language!" Turning her gaze to Hermione again, the hard look melted away into utter bafflement again. "Although I have to echo Flint's sentiment, if not in those exact words. What are you wearing, Granger?"
"Pads." Harry snorted in amusement at Hermione's blunt and simple answer. "The international standard rules permit the players to wear one pad on each shin, one pad on each forearm, and a helmet if desired." Hermione tapped her leg guards and blockers for emphasis, drawing attention to the oversized red pads. Each one was Gryffindor red with a golden lion and trim, made of dragonhide over muggle foam padding. She'd had to order a second blocker to replace her goalkeeping glove, but since the quaffle was too big to try and nab in it, that was no loss. They too were red with the golden lion across the piece shielding her arm from harm. Hefting her helmet, Hermione slid it on and stared out at them from between the painted, roaring jaws of a lioness. "Unlike the rest of the wizarding world, I'm familiar with the phrase 'think outside the box'. The rules don't regulate the size of a player's pads and there's no required materials list, just a list of banned materials, none of which are present in my pads. So as much fun as being hit with a bludger and getting my skull cracked or a limb broken sounds in theory, I believe I'll be proceeding with my plan to show you lot how us muggles tend goal."
Turning to the staff box, Hooch raised her wand to her temple and fired off a silvery owl that shot across the pitch and up to where the headmaster was sitting. After a moment, his eyes went wide and he shrugged helplessly before firing a return spell back down to their referee. She eyed Hermione for a moment before sighing. "Dumbledore says the reasoning is sound and the game won't be delayed to appeal to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Players, mount your brooms."
Flint glared and crossed his arms over his chest. "If she gets to wear that muggle shite, Bletchley gets to wear better pads too!"
Arching one white-blonde brow, Hooch eyed the Slytherin keeper. "Do you have something in the equipment shed that he's not already wearing?" The team exchanged looks before Flint shook his head. "Then mount your brooms or you can use up a time out to sit here and keep wasting our time."
"Fucking mudblood trash, polluting our game with her muggle sports shit." Flint threw one leg over his broom and pushed off the ground, hovering a foot or two above the grass. "When we get done with you, you're going to think Wood had it easy."
Hermione paused before dropping her broom, heading for the captain of the Slytherins. "Come down here and say that to my face, you snaggle-toothed bastard. I will fuck your inbred arse the hell up." Sweet Merlin, Hermione had a mouth on her. And he thought he'd heard the worst of it when he charmed those streaks into her hair…
Grinning widely and exposing his horribly troll-like teeth, Flint twisted his broom in a quick circle and forcing Hermione to duck to avoid being clipped in the head with his bristles. "Awful lot of bark for such a little bitch, mudblood…"
"Granger, Flint! Language! Granger, get on your broom or get off the field!" Walking over, Harry grabbed the back of Hermione's robes and tugged her back over to her broom before mounting his own. He was eagerly awaiting the impending carnage after that exchange and knew things wouldn't take long to explode. He was proven right almost immediately. As soon as all fourteen players were airborne, Madame Hooch blew into her whistle to resume play… and Hermione rocketed forward on her brand new Nimbus 2000, her right arm shooting out and clotheslining Flint. The Slytherin chaser let out a choked gurgle as his broom continued on without him, sending him sliding off the back end and dropping a few feet to the grass. "Penalty, Gryffindor! Penalty shot to Slytherin!"
"Sweet Merlin, before the players even make it into the air, new Gryffindor keeper Hermione Granger makes her mark on the game and sends that troll Flint back to the ground! Gryffindor is charged with a penalty, but it's completely worth it in my opinion. Go Granger!"
"Jordan!"
Making a slow, lazy loop along the edge of the pitch, Hermione pumped her fist in the air a few time and basked in the cheers of her fellow Gryffindors before taking up her position in front of the rings. After a few moments of angry discussion, Flint wrestled the quaffle away from the other two chasers on his team and rose into position to take the team's penalty shot. Without any help from his teammates or interference from bludgers, though, Hermione kept up with him easily and caught the quaffle, hurling it to Johnson before making an obscene gesture to Flint.
Harry was tempted to shout a warning as Flint made a beeline for one of his own beaters, wrestling the bat away, but Hermione had an eye trained on him even as she kept the rest of her attention on the quaffle. "What's this? Evidently Flint's not content at just failing as a captain and chaser today and wants to try his hand at beating…"
"Jordan!"
"And here comes the bludger… Flint whacks it toward the Gryffindor keeper but Granger seems strangely unconcerned… she's raising one arm and oh! Direct hit!" There was silence until Hermione waved the arm back and forth casually, then wiggled her fingers playfully. "Sweet Merlin, whatever that girl is wearing, she just took a full on bludger hit and doesn't have a scratch to show for it! It may look ugly as sin, but it gets the job done!"
There was a moment of silent and then what sounded distinctly like a slap being magnified by the pitch's magical speaker system. Then Harry groaned as his mother's voice emerged. "Excuse me, young man, but I helped do the sewing and charms work on those pads. They aren't 'ugly as sin', thank you very much."
Jordan, much to Harry's surprise, found at least one person scary enough to induce an apology. "Oops. Sorry, Mrs. Potter."
Shaking his head, Harry shot off towards where Bell was chasing a Slytherin chaser back down the pitch. Just before he took the shot, she slapped the quaffle away and dove to retrieve it. Harry followed, running along side her before pulling ahead and sliding in front. "Hey, Bell, my broom's faster! It's not blagging if it's your teammate!"
"I hope you know what you're doing, Potter!" Harry grabbed the broom with both hands, hanging on tight as it bucked beneath him, slowing noticeably as his teammate latched on. "Go go go!"
Catching Spinnet and Johnson's attention, Harry wracked his brain before coming up with the signal he'd seen them use in practice and doing his best to mimic it. Evidently he managed it, or close enough, because they fell into position beside him as he accelerated down the field, creating an odd augmented Hawkshead Attacking Formation. While he suffered from the weight of an entire second rider being dragged behind him, it was still faster than Bell could manage on her own and Bletchley was caught off guard as Harry tipped his broom upward, shooting up into the sky as she released him and rocketed beneath, drawing back her arm and hurling the quaffle toward the left ring. It passed through and a tone sounded, signaling another ten points for Gryffindor.
"And Potter taking after his old man…"
"Who the hell are you calling old, whelp?"
"James Potter!"
"Sorry, Professor."
"…getting in on some wicked chaser action there, helping Gryffindor rack up another ten points. Huh. In the middle of Gryffindor's three lovely chasers. You know, Potter, I had a dream like that once…"
"Jordan!"
"Moving on…" Harry chuckled and left the chasers to their own devices as he began looking for the snitch for the first time since the game resumed. After a minute or so, though, he realized Higgs was marking him… and that just wouldn't do. Leaning forward, Harry adopted a look of total concentration before diving. "And Potter's seen the snitch!"
Harry bit his lip to avoid smirking as Jordan fueled the exact reaction he'd been hoping for. Higgs gave up even attempting to be subtle - not that he'd been managing it in the least - and sped up, trying to follow as closely as possible so Harry would lead him to the snitch he couldn't yet see. Harry, feeling a bit playful, raced toward Spinnet from behind, coming within inches of her as he rocketed past. Hopefully Higgs wouldn't hit her, but if he did… blatching penalty on Slytherin and a penalty shot for Gryffindor.
Higgs managed to avoid the midair obstacle, though, and Harry decided to try something a bit more challenging. As he headed for the Gryffindor goal posts, Harry raised one arm and tapped it against his chest. Hermione nodded in understanding, leaning back and clenching her thighs around the broomstick as she prepared to do her part. Waiting until he was almost to Hermione, Harry slid a bit to his right and hauled back on the broomstick, hanging on for dear life as the sudden deceleration nearly threw him off. Higgs, left with either trying a hard turn, rise, or dive at top speed or threading the needle between the two, opted for the latter option. It proved to be a mistake when Harry and Hermione each thrust an arm out, hand wrapping around the other's wrist for support as the seeker slammed into them.
"Bloody hell! Higgs gets teamed up on Granger and Potter, getting knocked off his broom and sent flying into the bottom of the center goal. I could hear his head hit that ring from here, folks; that boy isn't getting up anytime soon. No doubt there's going to be a penalty and a free shot for Slytherin, but again… good work Granger and Potter! They may be the newest members of the Gryffindor team but they're certainly going out of their way to make their presence felt!"
In short order Higgs was carted off the field to join Wood in the hospital wing, Flint failed to make another penalty shot, and regular play resumed. Hermione was starting to take more bludger shots than before, though, and so while Harry knew that technically Gryffindor could run the game out indefinitely and rack up an enormous score since only he could end the game, he decided catching the snitch soon would probably be a good idea. The padding would hold up to a great deal of abuse, but why risk the brightest mind of his generation for no good reason?
The game continued on for almost half an hour, the Slytherins scoring once in a while as the Gryffindors ran up a huge lead on their increasingly desperate foes, and the end was almost anticlimactic. Hovering near the Gryffindor goals as he watched Hermione used the quaffle to hit a Slytherin player in the back of the head, Harry almost missed the glint of gold that indicated the snitch. Almost, but not quite. Wheeling around, Harry flattened himself against the broom and took off like a shot, eager to land Gryffindor another hundred and fifty points and end the game.
The snitch drifted close to where Flint was hovering and Harry was momentarily worried the Slytherin chaser would blatch or a snitchnip just to be cruel, but after a long moment, Flint pulled back to give Harry room. Perhaps he wanted to end the humiliation, or perhaps he realized that with Wood in the hospital, the game couldn't be ended through mutual captain consent and it was entirely up to Harry. Whatever the reason, Harry was just glad he wouldn't have to wrestle the brute for the snitch. "Go for the mudblood!"
Well now. That didn't sound good. Intent on catching the snitch to end the game, though, Harry left Hermione to fend for herself, putting his broom into a steep dive as the snitch plummeted to earth, relying on Jordan's commentary to keep abreast of what was going on. "Derrick and Bole seem to have abandoned the game itself, leaving the bludgers to the Weasley twins as they head for the Gryffindor goals. Potter may be about to catch the snitch, but Flint seems to want to leave a lasting impression on the Gryffindor team by hospitalizing two keepers in one game. I have no idea what Granger's plan is, because she's not making a run for it. Instead, she's pulling the broom upright and if I didn't know any better…"
Harry leaned forward, thrusting his hand out. Three inches away… two inches… one… his fingers curled around the snitch and he pulled up, pumping his hand in the air. "Got it!"
"…it is! Granger pulls off a Starfish and Stick but instead of blocking the quaffle, she plants her foot straight into the chest of Derrick! For the third time today, Granger has knocked a Slytherin from the sky and it's not even a penalty because Potter had already nabbed the snitch! A hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor and they win, three hundred and twenty to forty!"
Landing, Harry found himself attacked from both sides as Su and Daphne latched on, delivering rib-cracking hugs before pulling away, Su to do the same to Hermione and Daphne to take his arm in a far more ladylike fashion. "Amazing game, Harry. Although I could have done without that one maneuver you did with Hermione. Both of you could have been thrown from your brooms, and where would Gryffindor have been then?"
Harry chuckled and gave Daphne's arm a squeeze as he led her over to Hermione and Su. "Hermione and I ran through it in practice dozens of times. Wood and the twins charmed a school broom with a dummy to fly into us. We tested it with someone up to Flint's weight. What'd we end up calling it, Hermione? The 'Murderous Muggleborn'? Oh wait, that's what you did to Flint…"
"Hey, why don't we head back up to the castle and play a rousing game of 'Hide and Go Fuck Yourself', Harry?" Hermione thrust her broom out like a lance, jabbing Harry in the chest and sending him stumbling back. "Besides, we agreed. It's the 'Mad Muggleborn', in both the solo and team-up versions."
Before Harry could respond, Hermione was rocked forward by a slap to the back of her head. Behind her was a tall, middle-aged woman with Hermione's trademark wild brown hair. "Language, damnit. We raised you better than this."
From beside his wife, Mr. Granger opened his mouth to comment, closed it, and then shook his head. "I'd remark on the irony of that statement, dear, but it's not worth sleeping on the couch when we get home." Taking Hermione by the shoulder to spin her around, he grabbed her in a bear hug and lifted her off the ground. "That's my girl! Glad to see you didn't take any rubbish from those boys on the field."
"Oof! Put me down! Dad, you're embarrassing me in front of… well, everyone!" Hermione batted helplessly at her father's arms for a moment before he chuckled and released her. She stumbled a bit before regaining her footing, glaring at him as she smoothed down her robes. "Bloody hell, I can't take you two anywhere." Harry couldn't help but laugh at her misfortune and soon her glare was turned on him. "Laugh it up, Harry. Don't look now, but I'm not the only one with parents here today…"
That was all the warning Harry received before being bowled over from behind. "Oh my God, I was so worried about you! And what were you thinking, trying that move with Hermione? You could have gotten yourself killed!"
Hermione snickered.
Harry glared at her, issues with his mother forgotten as he reached up to pat Lily on the back as she clung to him.