"Potter!"
Harry turned his head in the crowd and heard the shout from behind. Ten seconds later, he spotted Draco Malfoy making his way through the crowd which parted for him naturally when they saw who he was. "Why haven't you been writing back to me all summer? I even invited you to our Manor but I didn't get a response."
"You've been writing to me?" Harry asked blankly confused.
"Yes, anyways, what are you doing here at the Ministry? My father is head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and he was just introducing a contingent from Brazil… do you want to meet them? I mean… wait what are you doing here?"
"I had a hearing," he said shortly, "uh, the Ministry accidentally thought that I performed magic out of school because probably some witch or wizard stopped by the Muggle neighbourhood that I live…" Malfoy's nostrils curled in disgust.
"I almost forgot you were brought up by Muggle relatives," he snickered, "I feel its almost my duty to rescue you from them. Anyway want to come and play quidditch? My father is gifting Slytherin house seven of the newest Nimbus 2001s and I've been inviting other prospective fliers so we can practice together. Want to come?"
Not wanting to return to the Dursleys so early, Harry thought it might be best to put wandless magic aside for awhile since he didn't want to push his luck. Although he definitely didn't trust the Malfoy family who doubtless still had sympathetic ties with Voldemort, he thought it was very unlikely that they would try anything when Voldemort's position was still so weak as Dumbledore had said.
"Sure," he said.
Emerging from the floo, Harry could see why the Malfoys were considered to be far and away the wealthiest wizarding family in Britain. Their manor itself was opulent, three stories with probably a dozen bedrooms and a drawing room that could seat nearly a hundred. A corridor of mirrors and portraits of Malfoy ancestors who glared down at him. Outside which they went, the grounds were impressive, nowhere near the size of Hogwarts of course, but Harry could make out a truncated third of a Quidditch field ahead with hoops about half the standard height. Malfoy strolled about the grounds confidently as he owned the place, just like he did back in Hogwarts Harry could see. He could understand somewhat now, how growing up in this fantastic atmosphere of wealth and privilege had shaped the person Malfoy had become.
Malfoy kicked off about a kilometre away and Harry followed, not sure whether they might risk breaking the Statute. By gazing around from the air Harry could see more clearly the extent of the place and it was massive, easily a major parcel of prime real estate fit for any bumbling aristocrat. There wasn't Muggle village or settlement in sight, not even agricultural fields.
Much of it was empty but Harry spotted a hedge maze with fountains and a gravel road that led past a pair of cast-iron gates and towards the manor. Turning back towards the pitch, he accelerated to follow Draco feeling out the broom's aerodynamics and becoming ever more impressed. It was so light and easy to handle, nothing like the cumbersome Shooting Stars and Harry had to take several minutes to get used to the broom's agility so he would not overshoot.
Malfoy already had the Quaffle in his hands that he had taken up from the crate and he tossed it to Harry who performed a sloth-grip roll to catch it.
Passing and throwing were things he had to work on because in terms of flying skills, he apparently had it all already. Fifteen minutes later, he still retained easy possession of the Quaffle, Malfoy could in no way even come close to him before he shook him off with another manoeuvre or feint or misdirection.
Malfoy played keeper for awhile and he was so terrible that they soon had to switch. Harry wasn't much better, namely due to lack of experience yet he performed well during exercises where he would try to head off Malfoy before he entered the penalty zone.
Harry gradually got the knack of dispossessing his opponent, taking advantage of superior flying skills to swoop around their blind spot, easily shaking off efforts they made to throw him off and then accelerating suddenly to punch their Quaffle away with tremendous accuracy. He also became good at an unconventional kind of marking, not the obstructive kind that deterred the player from flying where he or she wished, but the opportunist type that made the opponent nervous enough not to fly well because he or she could never know what move he would pull off next to try and steal the Quaffle.
At goalscoring, Harry chose the method of faking shots to confuse the keeper and send him shooting off in the wrong direction, although this was perhaps only due to Malfoy's terrible Keeper skills. It again also served well to keep his opponent off-balance and was a psychological advantage against keepers who could never predict what he would do as he had superior composure and could easily change and shift tactics
That was the key thing really. The more comfortable you were on the broom the more time you could devote your mind to analyzing the state of the game and tactics, to note your opponent's weaknesses, to consciously be able to make decisions…
However passing accuracy was still his weak point, especially with his left hand.
Malfoy finally let out the snitch after deferring awhile and Harry could tell it was because he had previously before, failed to find it for a long time whilst playing and he didn't want to be embarrassed in front of anyone. Smirking inside, he bit back a retort questioning Malfoy's fitness to be Seeker since he was after all a guest.
So he and Malfoy squared off, looking for the snitch and competing to do so. Harry deliberately gave Malfoy a two minute grace period even though he could usually easily spot the snitch within the span of less than a minute on the much smaller miniature pitch with no other distracting balls and fliers around. He also soon realized he had the ability to beat Malfoy to basically any snitch, unless he really was halfway on the other side of the pitch but out of politeness again, Harry let him win about four in every ten tries. Malfoy was very competitive, he was blowing hard, his face red, but he hadn't noticed anything.
