Chapter 15: Quidditch Troubles

As was so common these days, Harry trudged back to the common room after Quidditch practice tired and sore. It was only with considerable effort that he suppressed a groan as he saw Hermione waiting for him.

"Hermione, I'm cold and exhausted," he interjected before she could say a word. "I'm going to go up and shower. When I'm done, we can talk."

His friend nodded, and Harry plodded up the stairs toward the third-year boys' dormitory.

It was a much-refreshed boy that came back down to the common room to find Hermione and Neville at a table in the corner working on their homework.

"So, Hermione, what did you want to talk about?" Harry inquired as he sat down.

"We need to figure out when we're going to start the defense club," the bushy-haired girl replied.

Harry thought through his options quickly. He had finally agreed to go along with her plan the week earlier, but that didn't mean that he was terribly enthusiastic about the idea.

"Oliver's still pushing us hard, but that should let up after the game on Saturday," Harry finally said. "I'll still have practice on Monday, but we can have the defense club on Tuesday. I assume that you're quietly spreading the word?"

Hermione nodded, a smile on her face as she replied. "I've spoken with several of the other students that are also dissatisfied with being stuck in the beginner DADA practice club."

"Okay, then let them know about Tuesday. But I'm going to turn in early," Harry said as he walked back over to the staircase.

He entered the dorm, unsurprised to see that he was the only there, took off his shoes and laid down. To his surprise, the door opened just a moment later. He looked up to see Neville entering, a hesitant expression on his face.

"So, are you actually going to sleep, or was that just to get away from talking any more about the defense group?" the fair-haired boy asked.

Harry groaned. "Was I really that obvious?"

"I don't know," Neville admitted with a shrug. "But it seems like every time Hermione brings it up, you find some reason to change the subject or leave."

Silence filled the room as Harry thought of a way to respond.

"If you don't want to do the club, you don't have to," Neville reminded him. "You can tell Hermione no."

Harry stared up at the canopy of the bed for several seconds before replying. "I know. But in some ways, I think it is a good idea. People do need to learn this stuff, and it does help me by getting the students on my side. But still, teaching a group of people who just a few months ago were accusing me of brutally attacking other students isn't something I'm particularly looking forward to."

Neville frowned thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense. I hadn't really thought about it from that perspective."

"It's kind of like in first year, when I defended myself from Malfoy and his goons, and McGonagall took all those points. Everyone shunned and insulted me for weeks – or months." Harry wasn't even trying to hide the frustration and anger in his voice. It just felt good to get it off his chest. "And not just Gryffindor. The other houses were the same way. Except for Slytherin, obviously," he added with a frown. "And then, they expect me to just forget all about it when they decide that they're willing to associate with me again."

Harry took a deep breath before continuing his rant. No, not a rant, he reminded himself. It was simply an emphatic discussion of the frustrations he was feeling. "Literally the only person that apologized for how they treated me was Katie Bell. Everyone else just let it go. When I did point out what they had done, they acted like it was just a small thing. As though I should just forget about the fact that they had all treated me like garbage for months."

"People don't like feeling guilty," Neville said softly. "It's easier for them to just pretend that they didn't do anything wrong than admit that they made a mistake. It's been the same way for me with my cousins," the boy admitted.

"You don't talk about your family much," Harry pointed out.

"That's because I don't see them much," Neville admitted. "My gran married into the family, and from what I can tell, it doesn't sound like she and my grandfather had the best marriage. It was arranged," he explained, not quite making eye-contact with Harry. "When my grandfather died, and then…" Neville trailed off, staring at the floor.

Harry waited patiently until finally, Neville drew a big breath and looked up at his friend, tears visible in the corners of his eyes. "Have I told you about my parents?" Neville asked, his voice filled with reluctance and sorrow.

"I've done some research into the Death Eaters, so I know what happened," Harry responded quietly.

Neville nodded sadly. "As you probably know, House Longbottom has a number of investments, mainly in the field of herbology. Since my parents aren't… can't run things, Gran's the one that's in charge, even though she's not a Longbottom by birth. Growing potions ingredients isn't the most prestigious occupation, so sometimes people look down on House Longbottom, and I think that includes her. She's always telling me that my parents would have wanted me to be more than just a dirt farmer. It's led to some tension in House Longbottom. I don't know everything, but it seems like most of my relatives don't really like her, but since she's the acting Head of House Longbottom, there isn't much they can do. Before I started Hogwarts, everyone thought that I was pretty much a squib, and I was fat and weak as well. My cousins weren't very supportive of me," he admitted, eyes on the ground once more.

It was times like this that reminded Harry that he wasn't the only one whose childhood had been far from ideal.

"Anyways, things have gotten better now that I've been exercising and with my grades going up because I have my own wand people can't say I'm a squib, so my cousins have stopped insulting me, but none of them have apologized." Neville shrugged awkwardly. "So, I know what you mean."

Harry nodded. "It would be one thing if it had just been one time, but when people act like that for months, or years in your case, are you really supposed to just forget about it and let it go?"

"I don't know," Neville admitted. "So are you going to teach the club?"

Harry sighed. "Yes. Like I said, it's a good idea, even if I don't particularly like some of the people who will probably be there," he said reluctantly.

Neither boy had much to say after that, both lost in dark thoughts about their unpleasant pasts.

For about the tenth time, Harry read over the brief passage covering the patronus charm. He could practically quote it by memory now, but he still wasn't having much success in casting it, even though he'd been working on it for months. There was just something that he was missing. He could make a silvery vapor, but he still couldn't make that leap to producing a corporeal patronus no matter how hard he tried.

Suppressing a groan, the boy stood and stretched, then grabbed the DADA reference book and strolled over to the appropriate section to put it back on the shelves. Last night's discussion with Neville had brought up a lot of feelings that he had carefully buried, and he was grateful that Hermione was busy with something else, giving Harry time on his own to think things through.

Not that he'd found any solutions to his inner turmoil. He was still bitter about how he had been treated, but ranting at everyone that came to the meeting and demanding they all apologize and respect him from now on was probably not the best approach to take.

It was as he gathered his belongings back into his bag, that he noticed a piece of parchment tucked under one corner of his notebook. Frowning, the boy grabbed the unexpected item, and was surprised to see his name written in large letters on the top of the folded parchment.

Harry looked around the library surreptitiously but couldn't see anyone paying attention to him. Fingering the letter thoughtfully, he slipped it in his pocket and walked out calmly.

Ducking into a nearby unused classroom, Harry studied the letter closely. A few quick spells showed that there was no harmful magic on it (at least, as far as he could tell), so, still a bit suspicious, he broke the seal on the parchment and began to read.

Potter,

Be aware that Umbridge and Malfoy are planning something for the Quidditch game tomorrow. I don't know exactly what, but I suspect that they intend for Malfoy to provoke you, and when you respond, Umbridge will punish you harshly.

I suspect that you are already aware that Umbridge seems fixated on you, and, of course, Malfoy is not any better. If you are interested, I would be willing to pass on any other relevant information that I discover.

Naturally, I do have conditions. Primarily, that you will not make any attempt to identify me. I know that you have a habit of using omnioculars as security cameras to record things. Don't try it. Further, I expect that you will notify me if there is anything that might impact the neutral Slytherins. Yes, I will admit that I am a member of that house, as you could probably guess by the fact that I am in a position to overhear Malfoy's plots.

If you agree to these terms, we can leave messages in the library. There is space to hide a letter on the underside of the second shelf from the bottom in the sixth-year history section, just below the series of books with a red cover by Gertrude Jormundsen. Due to the bend in the aisle, it is unlikely that anyone will notice us pausing there to leave a message.

When you leave a message, notify me by turning the halberd of the suit of armor next to the portrait of Humphrey the Huguenot so that the spike points toward the main staircase. I will notify you of a message by rotating the star chart on the fourth floor near Sinistra's office so that Pegasus is at the bottom.

Sincerely,
Your mysterious new informant

Suppressing the urge to groan, Harry studied the letter once more. The writing was too uniform to be handwritten. Doubtless, his new associate had used a dictaquill. Both the armor and the star chart were in locations that, while not heavily traveled, were not so far out of the way as to make it unusual if someone were to pass by once or twice a day.

Which just left the question of how much he could trust this unknown person.

I guess I'll just have to see what happens tomorrow at the game, he thought grimly.

Despite the unpleasant weather, Harry was in a good mood as he raced around the arena, skillfully dodging players to intercept a pass from the Slytherin chasers. Tossing the quaffle to Alicia, he resumed his hunt for the elusive Snitch, tuning out Angelina's cry of 'Chimera six'. As the chasers sped into formation for one of Oliver's complicated (but clearly effective, given that Gryffindor was up by 110 points in less than half an hour) plays, Harry rose high above the action, eyes darting this way and that as he searched, hoping to spot the telltale glitter of the golden ball.

Not surprisingly, Malfoy followed, still yelling insults, mostly focused on Harry's 'mudblood mother' and 'blood traitor father'. If he hadn't known what Malfoy's goal was, Harry might have lost his temper, but with the warning from his new informant, Harry was able to keep his emotions in check. Of course, the fact that he had taken a calming draught before the game also helped.

Deliberately widening his eyes as though in shock, Harry sped into a steep dive, accelerating rapidly, then leveled out about fifteen feet off the ground. As he had hoped, Malfoy was now trailing him. Shifting this way and that to prevent Malfoy from getting a clear look ahead, Harry continued to race forward, arm outstretched as though reaching for something, though in truth his gaze was fixed on the arena wall drawing nearer and nearer.

At the last instant, Harry put both hands back on the broom, grabbing tightly as he pulled up with all his might. After so many months of practice, he knew exactly how his trusty Nimbus performed, and so he was less than three feet from the wall when he shot up into the sky, doing a loop and pausing momentarily to appreciate the outcome of his little maneuver.

As he had hoped, Malfoy had been caught off-guard by Harry's sudden change of direction and crashed into the wooden wall. Given that no foul had been committed, the game continued even as Madam Pomfrey rushed to the aid of the Slytherin seeker.

Once more flying high above the main level of play, Harry gazed down once more. A splash of gold in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned his broom and began to dive once more. The snitch, somehow detecting that it was being chased, darted toward the Slytherin goals, and Harry rolled to follow it.

That was when he realized that something was wrong.

Cursing under his breath as he tried to control the unresponsive broom, Harry could only watch as the ground grew nearer, his broom refusing to pull out of the dive fast enough to avoid the imminent collision.

Knowing that he wasn't going to be able to level out in time, Harry threw himself off the broom, trying to land sideways and rolling. He was at least partly successful.

As he finally came to a stop, Harry took a moment to check his injuries. Though he was very sore and had several painful scrapes, at least he hadn't broken anything. A loud crack echoed through the arena, and he looked over to see that his broom had continued without him, crashing into the wall with a shocking amount of force.

Mind racing, Harry struggled to catch his breath, glad that the calming draught he had taken earlier was keeping him from panicking as he realized what had happened.

Whoever had tried to kill him over the summer had just made another attempt.

It was rare for both seekers to be incapacitated in a Quidditch game, but it did happen on occasion. If both were unable to resume play within fifteen minutes, the game would end and whichever team was ahead in points would win.

Since Gryffindor had a decisive lead, Flint had called a timeout and was desperately trying to get one of his housemates to take Malfoy's place. Gryffindor, however, had the opposite problem. Harry was well enough to continue playing, but his broom was badly damaged (not to mention, someone had cursed it somehow).

Right as Oliver was about to have Harry take Katie's broom and just have the youngest Gryffindor chaser play with one of the school's old Shooting Stars, someone emerged from the locker rooms and approached the huddle of red-clad players.

"Harry, here, you can use mine," Cedric Diggory said, holding his broom out.

Harry was stunned. "Cedric, are you sure?"

"It's only fair," the older boy replied. "Whatever happened to your broom obviously wasn't your fault."

The Gryffindors were impressed by this display of Hufflepuff values. Or, at least, most of them were.

"Great," Oliver said, snatching the broom out of Cedric's hands and shoving it toward the green-eyed Gryffindor. "Now Harry, let's end this quickly before something else happens. I want you to focus on getting the snitch. No more games."

"He meant to say 'thank-you'," Alicia meanwhile assured her Hufflepuff year mate, who just seemed amused. Oliver's obsession with Quidditch was quite legendary, after all.

"Thanks Cedric," Harry called as Madam Hooch's whistle signaled the end of the time-out and both teams mounted their brooms to resume play. Though the Cleansweep handled a little differently than his Nimbus had, Harry had no difficulty adapting. The fourth-year boy that had taken Draco's place was nowhere near Harry's level, and soon the game had ended with a final score of 410-90.

"Improper broom maintenance," Harry repeated, his voice dripping with derision. "That's what you think it was?" I wouldn't have pushed so hard for the Aurors to investigate if I had known they would be sending these two.

"That's what the evidence shows," Gibbon retorted.

"Yeah, just like the evidence showed that it was me who put that potion in my room over the summer," Harry shot back hotly. "It's impressive that you were able to conduct such a thorough investigation in just ninety minutes."

Though Gibbon glared at him, Harry was surprised to see that Dawlish looked a little embarrassed now.

"Fine, go back and tell Fudge and Scrimgeour so they can have an excuse to ignore yet another attempt on my life," the boy said, voice dripping with derision.

He was already making plans as he turned away and began the trek back to the Gryffindor common room.

After he finished writing, Harry took a moment to look over the brief message.

To my mysterious informant:

Thank you for the warning, it was helpful in dealing with Malfoy, though he wasn't the only one targeting me at the game.

Your terms are acceptable. I will notify you if I hear of anything that may impact the neutral Slytherins, and I will make no effort to identify you.

Sincerely,
Harry Potter

Harry frowned as he looked at that last part. He felt just a touch guilty about lying, as he had absolutely no intention of following through with it. Oh, he would, of course, warn his new associate about anything he learned, but he would still try to determine who it was. He would just be sneaky about it.

Making a mental note to set up the omnioculars and the Marauder's Map to record the activity in the library, he set his first letter aside and began working on a second one. Veritas included requests in each edition for people to contact them with interesting reports, and though he had, of course, already notified Peter of what had happened, it would be wise to have a visible trail so that people didn't suspect his hidden connection with the newspaper.

Harry smiled as he finished reading the headline article in Veritas. Nothing too overt in terms of attacks on the ministry or Dumbledore, but it did raise some questions about the Aurors' effectiveness and Hogwarts' security.

Not surprisingly, other people in Hogwarts were not quite as pleased with what they had read, which is why he found himself in McGonagall's office a few hours later.

"Mister Potter, stories like this have the ability to greatly impact Hogwarts, and as such, it is important that the faculty be consulted before a student goes running off to the newspaper," the Scottish teacher said, nostrils flaring angrily.

"Everything in there is completely true," Harry countered with a smile. "And according to the article, they tried to contact Professor Dumbledore, but he was unavailable. That's not my fault."

The professor was unrelenting. "Regardless, in the future you need to discuss such matters with me first."

Harry just shook his head in amazement. "I had to argue with you for ten minutes to get you to even consider calling in the Aurors to investigate a clear attempt on my life. And now you're more concerned with sweeping it under the rug."

"There was no evidence of foul play," the teacher stated, irritation obvious in her voice.

"The Aurors didn't investigate, they glanced at the broom for a few minutes before finding an excuse that would allow them to blame me for what happened," Harry retorted. "They didn't interview me to see what sort of maintenance I usually perform, and how often. They didn't consult with one of the Nimbus broom designers to determine where the malfunction occurred, and why. Just like the attack over the summer, they went in looking for reasons to blame me."

McGonagall was clearly not convinced by his argument. "Regardless, what happened is not the fault of Hogwarts, and when a newspaper portrays events in such a way as to imply that the faculty is to blame, that causes parents to ask undeserved and unfair question regarding how the school is run," she insisted.

Harry shrugged with deliberate casualness. "If you have a problem with what is written in that paper, you should contact the ones who wrote it. I simply sent them a letter, the text of which you can clearly see in the article. I didn't say anything to imply that this school or the faculty was at all to blame for what happened."

"And yet, because of your letter, many parents are now going to be wondering whether or not their children are safe," McGonagall responded.

"That's not my problem," the younger Gryffindor countered calmly.

Unfortunately, the next morning, there was another article relating to Hogwarts.

"What's a High Inquisitor?" Dean wondered aloud as he frowned at the Daily Prophet.

Harry looked over at the staff table, where Umbridge was smiling like a cat that caught the canary. He had stopped reading the Prophet some time ago due to their occasional insults and questions regarding his sanity, but there were usually a few copies floating around for people to read in the morning. Seizing an unused paper a few seats down, he skimmed the article quickly. "Dealing with Hogwarts' 'falling standards'… ensure student safety… provide increased opportunity for students to learn about and interact with the real world…" he muttered as he read.

"Hem, hem."

Harry and many of the others looked up to see the pink toad was now standing and looking out at the students.

"For those of you who do not have access to the Daily Prophet, the only newspaper which is endorsed by the Ministry of Magic, I am pleased to announce the formation of a new position in the Hogwarts faculty. Specifically, the position of High Inquisitor. Our dear Minister has asked that I serve as the first in that position. My duties will be to ensure that Hogwarts provides for all of you an experience befitting the finest magical school in the world, in terms of not only the quality of your education, but also the level of safety. Due to recent concerns, the Ministry and Wizengamot, with the full support of the Board of Governors, have decided to step in and take a more active role in guiding the education of those who will one day lead our great country."

Students could be heard whispering to each other, but Umbridge wasn't finished.

"To assist me in this role, trustworthy students of third-year and above will have the opportunity to join the newly-formed Inquisitorial Squad. Unlike the prefect positions, there will be no limits or quotas set on who can join this exciting new organization. We will not discriminate on gender, age, house affiliation or blood status. Everyone is welcome to apply to join.

"As a reward for helping the High Inquisitor fulfill her duties in this school, members of the Inquisitorial Squad will have additional opportunities to learn more about our society and interact with prominent members of our community. We will take several trips to the Ministry so that you can gain firsthand experience in how our government functions, as well as a number of businesses."

The unpleasant woman's grin widened as she continued. "Anyone who wishes to join the Inquisitorial Squad is welcome to retrieve an application from my office or ask for one after class. Prospective members will be required to submit a short curriculum vitae and obtain references from at least two adult members of good standing in our community outside of Hogwarts. I hope you all take advantage of this wonderful opportunity to broaden your horizons and gain marvelous new experiences that will help you greatly throughout your lives."

Great, so now my attacks on Dumbledore have led to my main enemy this year getting even more authority in the school, he thought bitterly. Harry was not the only student to wonder how much this would change life at Hogwarts.

A/N – Without the Dementors' cold aura screwing up the local weather system, the storm during the Quidditch game isn't as bad as it was in canon.