Harry Potter and the Year he Broke Free

Chapter Twenty: Inivitations

"Okay! I know it's early, but we need to be focused." Angelina glared pointedly at Ron, who was yawning loudly. "Ravenclaw is no easy team to beat, so we'll need to be on top of our game. Go get warmed up - do a couple laps or something. Harry, can I speak to you for a sec?"

The rest of the team dispersed, while Harry and Angelina hung back. She was right, it was early. The sun was barely up; its bleary light flooding gently from behind a few clouds.

She cocked her head to the side. "So, you been practising?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Got my broom here too." Harry reached into his pocket, and brought out the shrunken form of his Firebolt 360. After tapping it with his wand twice, it grew quickly to full size, magnificent bristles freshly trimmed, the handle polished to perfection. Harry took pride in his broom, maybe more so than anything else.

A sharp intake of breath. "Is that- a Firebolt 360?!" said Angelina, eyes wide in disbelief. "Can I touch it?"

The quidditch captain was almost breathless with excitement, all authority forgotten for the moment. She seemed to remember herself.

"I uh... I mean, nice broom Potter." she straightened her robes, and brushed off the captain armband on her bicep. Angelina nodded at him, then said, "Well, if you're good, how about we join the rest of the team."

Harry chuckled. "Sure." they walked over to the centre of the field, where the rest of the team were swooping about.

Fred and George landed close to him, Alicia not too far behind. "That a Firebolt 360, Harry?"

He grinned at them. "Yep." he noticed the eyes fixed in awe on the shiny broom in his hand. "Uh... anyone want a go?" he offered. This was followed by cries of "hell yes!" and it was passed around the group, each hand stroking it enviously. The rest of training was spent taking turns on each others brooms, chucking the quaffle about and (in Harry's case) setting the snitch off, and chasing after it like a dog after a ball. It was the most fun he'd had in a while.

Ron hung back mostly, but did have a short go on Harry's new broom, agreeing with everyone else that it was pretty good.

"Much better handling than the previous model, but they got Dorian Summerton to help design it, so what d'you expect?" Ron remarked to Harry blithely, who was responding automatically.

"Yeah, I read somewhere they used a special kind of wood to help with the magical core..." Harry trailed off, the smile slipping off his face as he realised what he was doing. The other boy's face dropped, and his ears went a spectacular red. It was so easy to slip into the old routine; discussing tactics, swapping facts. It was one of the main things they had in common, the boys' love for quidditch, and they could both talk about it for hours (to the annoyance of Hermione). Harry didn't think they were capable of having a casual conversation after all that had passed between the two, but was a few arguments enough to overrule almost five years of friendship?

Soon enough, the rest of the school filtered out of the doors and took their places in the stands. Waves of students with blue or red smudges across their cheeks cheered and roared at the team they were supporting, and booed at the other. Some weird girl with blonde hair had made a huge eagle out of... paper mache? Harry had to squint - he was pretty far away from her. Yes, it looked like it. Plus it was squawking at a deafening volume, and rustling about on her head noisily. The sight looked like a bird stuck in their own nest. Harry had to stuff his knuckle in his mouth to stifle the giggles that threatened to escape his lips, and he snorted as the bird nearly toppled off her head completely.

Who was that girl? She was clearly a Ravenclaw, what with the massive bird on her head and the blue smudges on her face. Her glazed blue eyes misted over his, and he was surprised how glassy they were. He knew that people called her loony, and also avoided her for her strange ways. Even now people were giving her a wide berth, muttering and giggling behind her back - but she didn't seem bothered, still gazing out over the pitch dreamily.

She seemed interesting. Harry would have to find out more about this mysterious girl. But enough of that: the damn game was about to start! Angelina beckoned the team over, and gave a quick pep talk. Not exactly on the same calibre as Oliver's, but he was a complete quidditch fanatic so it would be hard to measure up to him. In fact, she seemed pretty nervous, fidgeting and wringing her hands.

"C'mon, Ange, we'll do fine. Especially now we've got Harry back." George consoled her soothingly, pressing a hand on her shoulder. He smirked at Harry, and he had the urge to giggle again. Well... Angelina and George. It seemed a lot had happened in the time he was away. George took his hand away from the captain, and he caught Fred giving his twin a thumbs up out of the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, Hooch blew her whistle and beckoned the captains over.

"Good luck everyone," said Angelina, her mouth set in a grim smile. She nodded once at all of them before trudging over to where Joe Thorn, the Ravenclaw captain and Hooch were standing waiting. The rest of the team gathered into a huddle at Katie's word, everyone's hands resting on their teammates shoulders.

"Okay, team, I know we haven't done so well lately, but this is the last match of the year. Let's make it count." whispered Alicia, locking eyes with everyone. Harry felt the familiar surge of energy that built up from anticipation of the match ahead.

Fred grinned. "C'mon guys, let's squash 'em."

Yeah, we've got Harry now! We'll win for sure." finished George, just as Angelina came rushing back over. Everyone shuffled over to let her slot in.

"Alright, we have kick-off. Use it well. And remember, no matter what happens, just enjoy yourselves. Let's go already!" shouted Angelina, the circle breaking to get into their respective positions. Harry kept his broom by his side, feeling the energy thrumming through the membranes of the wood to his tightly-curled fingers on the handle. Oh, how he had missed this.

"Now then, I don't want to see any fouls, today! I want a good, clean match to end the year." said Madame Hooch sharply, her voice cutting clearly through the misty, cold December morning. She surveyed them fiercely with her piercing yellow eyes before pressing the whistle to her lips, and blowing hard. A high-pitched whistle curved through the pitch, and both teams pushed roughly off the frozen ground and into the air as the balls were released.

"And we're off! It's Gryffindor and Ravenclaw playing this morning, and it seems the house of the lions are off to a good start, Johnson seizing the quaffle and heading for the hoops..." Lee Jordan's voice rang throughout the grounds, keeping a close commentary on the position of the game. Harry was extremely thankful for this - he could have a lot more of his attention on seeking rather than trying to keep up with the game around him. He flew higher, circling the game and keeping an eye out for the snitch. Angelina had said that if he should wait as long as possible before catching the snitch; Gryffindor really needed the points. So Harry's main job currently was to keep the other team's seeker away from the snitch, which was none other than Cho Chang.

He swept his gaze over to the Asian girl on the other side of the pitch, her hair in a long, sleek ponytail. It looked like she was doing the same sort of thing as him: gauging the game's progress. Thing is, she didn't need to faff about with waiting until her team had scored any goals since Ravenclaw were in the lead. Harry's stomach squirmed as she caught his eye and grinned briefly. He flashed her a quick smirk and got his sights back on the game. The rest of the team would kill him if he was flirting instead of trying to win.


Twenty-five minutes had ticked by slowly, and the score read 60-40 to Gryffindor. Good - Harry would have to properly try and catch the snitch from now on. Plus, there had already been a few narrow scrapes. Cho had previously dived for the golden ball, and Harry only just blocked her by swooping underneath and brushing her legs roughly so she nearly went upside down. The Ravenclaw captain went ballistic, insisting that a penalty was needed but thankfully Harry's trick was well within the rules.

Equally, Ron was starting to be affected by each goal that slipped through his fingers. Harry had come to understand that his former best mate's biggest issue was confidence, his ears deepening in colour with each stupid syllable of that song the Slytherins had made up. 'Weasley is our king' was a song made to torment the Gryffindor keeper, with lyrics insulting everything from his house, grades, family, and friends. No wonder Ron looked pissed.

At least this was payback for talking about Harry behind his back. But could they have waited till after the match to sing that? They were going to lose if this went on any longer! Harry scoured the pitch through the familiar round lenses of his glasses, weaving about aimlessly above the crowds.

"...Scrabble passes to Montgomery, and... another goal to Ravenclaw!" said Lee with a hint of sadness beneath his words. "The keeper only just missed it by the tips of his fingers, shame really..." the snakes only laughed even harder at this, guffawing loudly. Harry glared at them all, eyes catching on Malfoy, who was rolling about in his seat. The other boy caught him staring, and stopped almost immediately, blushing furiously and scowling back.

Fucking Malfoy... he was even more of a spaz than he remembered. Harry thought back to a few days ago, when he was pretty sure the irritating blonde was following him around. Probably on daddy's orders, thought Harry angrily. Lucius was a death eater, so would then ferry that information to Voldie himself. Don't trust him. Ever. Draco Malfoy was bad news.

"HARRY! CATCH THE BLOODY SNITCH BEFORE RON FUCKING COLLAPSES!" yelled George frantically at him, waving his bat chaotically. A bludger zoomed past, and he zoomed off after it. To be fair, he did have a point. Ron was swaying on his broom and had turned an ill colour as the singing behind him reached a deafening rate, even drowning out Lee Jordan's desperate attempts to get them to shut up.

A thoroughly pissed-looking Lee pulled out his wand, prodded it next to his throat and murmured what Harry imagined was a sonorous maximus charm. He jumped on top of the podium, and belted out, "WOULD YOU LOT SHUT THE FU-" before McGonagall yelped and cast the counter-curse, but Lee's inspiring words still came out in a wild bellow. Some of the lower years looked frightened, and the Slytherins even stopped for a moment.

The entire pitch was almost silent, the volume soon replaced by McGonagall threatening Lee's welfare. Then she went on about how disgraceful his behaviour was, but Harry stopped listening - he had seen the snitch! It was swimming through the air drunkenly near the bleachers, and before anyone knew what was happening Harry had dived for it clasped it tightly in his fist, and the game was over.


At first, nobody said anything. The entire crowd were still focused on what had happened up at the podium, so nobody realised what had happened until Harry screamed: "GUYS! I'VE GOT THE SNITCH! WE WON!"

The red supporters cheered and whooped, the rest of the team crowding around Harry to give a pat on the back and a congratulations. They all crashed into a squirming hug, bodies pressed tightly together. This wasn't such a good idea in mid-air. The deafening cheers melded together, and Harry found himself yelling beside them in exhilaration. There was a twisting sensation in his gut - victory, probably - as they all fluttered down to the ground where they were all given a well done from the supporters on the ground. Or sneers, in the Slytherins' case.

Harry was wandering up to the changing rooms when he caught Ron swooping down. The red headed figure behind him clambered off the broom, head bent down in shame. Even from this distance, he could make out the reddening tips of his ears - this was a warning sign for when he got angry. Sure enough he marched over to some of the stragglers in Slytherin and began yelling abuse at them, a multitude of swear words making their way over to Harry's ears. Then a phrase caught his attention:

"You reckon he caught some of Potter's insanity?" It was one of the snakes, insulting him as per usual. Harry shook his head and carried on his way. But they were relentless.

"No... couldn't have. I heard it's inherited: Potter must've gotten it from his filthy muggle mother." Harry paused, swivelling round, feeling his face heat up. The fuck? It was an unwritten rule you don't pick on someone's mum. That's just fucking uncalled for. Well, if they wanted to be a load of tossers...

"You got something to say to me, Parkinson?" Harry ground his teeth, watching as she dissected his words. Slytherins assessed and interpreted everything you said, so with them almost everything had a double meaning. Unless you were talking to Crabbe and Goyle, of course.

"Oops, did I hit a nerve, Potter?" sneered Pansy as she watched Harry's hand twitching towards his pocket. "Well, we were discussing your family tree... specifically your disgusting mudblood mother. Everyone says you have her eyes, but what about her madness? That's what muggle blood does to people, Potter. Personally I'm glad You-Know-Who finished off the bitch before she infected anyone else with her disease."

Harry saw red. The jubilation he'd felt from the match had worn off, and he was remembering the teasing and taunts he'd put up with over the last week or so. The aching tiredness from his restless night's sleep rose to the surface, and the twisting in his stomach jabbed agonisingly. If they thought he was mad... why not embrace it?

Harry smiled at her, baring his teeth. "Pansy, how many hoops on the pitch?" he asked innocently.

"W-what?" she spluttered.

"Simple question, Pansy." he tutted. "How many hoops?"

"Six," answered Crabbe behind her in his gormless manner.

Harry's smile grew to an alarmingly stretched smirk. "Well done, Crabbe. I see you've learnt to count. Now, how many of you?"

Crabbe thought for a moment, brow furrowing in concentration, finger jabbing at each of his fellow Slytherins. Malfoy sighed, and said, "Six. Now, Potter, some of us actually have things to do so could we hurry this along? Wouldn't want to intrude on your practising fake sob-stories in the mirror."

A few of the others sniggered.

Harry ignored his previous comment, eyes flashing wildly. His teeth glinted sharply against his stretched lips, and he looked positively demented. "Excellent. Just the right amount, then." All of the people watching and engaging in the confrontation looked utterly bewildered by this, until Harry snapped out his wand. Then people looked petrified. Harry flicked his wand, and sent all six Slytherins into the air (Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Parkinson and Nott) and zooming towards the hoops.

Each one tumbled through the air, spinning about uncontrollably until they were shoved roughly into a hoop each. They shrieked and screamed, cursing Potter to hell and back as they struggled in their hoop. Harry laughed manically, watching as they fought against the sticking spells he had placed there. They looked like weird Christmas decorations. He had plonked them in up to their waist, so their hands and legs were flailing about madly.

It was then Harry realised he wasn't the only person laughing, as it seemed like the entire school had come back to watch the confrontation. Everyone else was rolling about, pointing at the squirming Slytherins who were slowly turning red with embarrassment. Harry had tears in his eyes, still chuckling and choking on bouts of laughter. Oh, this was excellent revenge. They'd had it coming for years. They looked like fucking idiots.

Harry slipped away from the crowd, and sprinted up to the school. He dived behind the bust of some knight as the teachers rushed past, probably to sort out whatever was going on outside. It seemed that Harry had just gotten in just in time - they were bound to figure out who did it sooner or later, and Harry wanted to avoid the repurcussions for as long as he could. He stumbled away, and collided into someone painfully.

"Oof!" he groaned as he fell to the floor. His head had smacked into the wall, and was throbbing pretty hard. Harry blinked a few times, clearing the stars away from in front of his eyes and blearily tried to work out who he had bumped into. "I'm sorry, didn't realise-" and he stopped.

Cho Chang was lying sprawled on the ground beside him, rubbing her shoulder gingerly. She raised her head and her gaze met with Harry's for a second. They both flushed and turned away.

Hang on - what did that book on wizard's etiquette say again? Always help a lady in need or something? Harry jumped to his feet and stretched out a hand.

"Need a hand?" he offered, and she accepted, letting him pull her up. They both ended up face to face, far too close for comfort. Harry stepped back a little, subtly enough not to offend her but then not so sneakily it looked like he wasn't respecting her personal space. Harry and Cho both stood beside each other awkwardly for a second, his hand still on hers.

"You wanna walk with me to the changing rooms?" said Harry, removing his hand to gesture to the side where the changing rooms were located. She nodded, a slow blush spreading up her cheeks. It looked kinda cute, thought Harry.

They walked in silence for a little while, sneaking glances at the other. Harry had liked her last year, and it seemed those feelings had resurfaced. Funnily enough he hadn't thought about her too much while he was away. Probably because he hadn't seen her in a while, plus her and Cedric were dating... so it was just bringing back memories he wanted to push down.

"Hey, Harry... you heard about that ball next week?" said Cho, a hint of hopefulness in her voice. She glanced at him again, and Harry caught on pretty quickly.

"Oh yeah. Sounds pretty fun. You going with anyone?" he said playfully. Oh merlin, he'd be lost right now if it weren't for that book on how to understanding witches. After a few awkward encounters both at school and as Brandie Mundell down at the pub he'd decided to brush up on his women-wooing skills.

She shrugged, a grin splaying out across her features. "No, you?"

"Nah. I'm not going with anyone either." he paused for a moment. "Hey, here's a crazy idea - why don't we go together?"

Cho beamed. "That sounds pretty good. You wanna discuss the details at lunch?"

Harry nodded, returning her smile as they reached the separate changing rooms. Well, that went... pretty good. He now had a date. They said their goodbyes, and went their separate ways, Cho going into the girls, and Harry into the boys.

It was completely empty: something Harry had not been anticipating. Everyone was probably still sorting out all of the shit that went down at the pitch. Harry sighed and sidled over to the sink, glancing in the mirror. He looked decent, but there was some mud splattered on his face (how?! He was in the air the whole time!) and he looked rather tired. Oh dear. If this is what Harry was like with a glamour, he hated to think what he looked like without it. Harry sighed heavily, and waved his wand over his face, muttering a charm under his breath. An odd sensation lapped over him, almost like someone removing a blanket and then his reflection changed.

Bloody hell! He looked like utter crap. There were dark, bruised rings surrounding his bloodshot eyes and his skin was pale and sickly-looking. Harry was scrawnier than he thought, but it wasn't yet too noticeable. If you weren't looking too hard you would miss his sudden weight loss. Harry pulled up his sleeve, wincing as he looked at the deep scratches slashed into his skin. Damn, he'd definitely gone overboard last time.

How he was going to manage when he went home for the holidays he didn't know. If Harry continued in the same fashion, by Christmas you would definitely be able to tell Harry's sudden change in appearance. He knew that glamours weren't that good; sooner or later the change would become too vast to conceal. Maybe he could leave? One thing Harry was certain of was that it was Hogwarts that had done this to him, so perhaps he was better off alone? Sirius came into his mind unbidden: no... Harry didn't want to leave him all without anyone again. It was clear his godfather suffered without him.

Harry tugged the robe over his head, and grimaced when he noticed his hard-earned muscles were less defined. Getting him to finally put on weight was an annoying process, since Harry's body seemed determined to stay wiry and lean. He wasn't exactly weak... but he was stronger than his thin frame conveyed. Oh well, sod it. It was too much to maintain anyway... all he was concerned with was staying in shape. Who cares what he looked like?

Cho might, though. Harry reminded himself as he stepped into the shower and turned it on, feeling the cool beads of water drip down his skin. Talking to her was a lot easier than he expected, almost like talking to Hermione... he didn't feel as half as nervous as he thought he would. Plus, he actually got out some coherent sentences for once! It was a victory in his books. Maybe he had absorbed some of those tips for talking to girls and was using them subconsciously.

Harry laughed as he thought about the Slytherins' faces when he stuck them in the quidditch rings. The match went really well, too. Gryffindor won! It seemed like things were finally going his way.


*I don't own any characters, all rights to J.K. Rowling.

**Hey guys! I know I'm setting up Cho and Harry, but Drarry is the ship for this fanfic. Just trying to build some story lol and having fun. Thanks, Tea33 xx.

***Thank you all so much for the reviews, favourites and follows!