A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed! Updates for this fic should hopefully be more regular now :)

The training session the next day went well, and Harry got the distinct impression that Fowler was pleased. They had practiced several team flying manoeuvres which came off so well Harry felt like he was flying as one with the rest of the team, like a single feather on one wing, moving flawlessly in sync with the others.

He did not attempt the Wronksi Feint during this session, deciding to leave that for his lessons with Krum before trying to complicate his usual training, but he did rehearse increasingly steep dives, trying to replicate the precise movements Krum had shown him, perfect his posture and his control.

Harry noticed Evan watching him several times as he did these dives, causing Fowler to shout at him for being distracted. He could not help watching him in return at times as he swooped overhead, awed by how easily Evan seemed to anticipate the direction the Quaffle would be flying in. He didn't waste an ounce of energy, waiting as patiently as a spider lurking in the centre of a web, only darting off at the last second to block the goal, thereby heading off any evasive tactics used by the Chaser. He'd never seen anything like it and was once again struck by how effortlessly Evan moved through the air.

They ended their training session in high spirits and began to troop back through the internal corridors of the stadium, brooms slung over their shoulders. As they reached the foyer of the main entrance, Harry stopped in surprise as he saw three figures standing there. Two of them, both wizards, were dressed in black training robes with emblems on the upper left chest consisting of three yellow wizard hats on a blue background. Embroidered lettering under these patches told Harry their names were Svensson and Andersson. The third, a witch, was dressed in deep blue robes and was glaring towards the England team as they came up the corridor. She looked to be in her mid-forties and had wild black hair streaked with grey which was shoved messily into a bun on top of her head and was rapidly unfurling. She had the look of a hawk, her eyes narrowing as they approached.

"Fowler!" she barked, turning her scowl on him. "I must speak to you."

"I have nothing to say to you, Karlsson," Fowler said with a sneer. "Take it up with the EAQ."

"You had no right to go behind my back!" Helena Karlsson screeched, eyes popping. "I was perfectly justified in raising concerns—"

"You have no right to try and intimidate my player," Fowler growled. He took a step so he was side by side with Harry. "My team is my team. Its personnel has nothing to do with you."

Karlsson's expression soured even further as she turned her gaze on Harry. "It does when it goes against the rules. He might be sixteen on match day, but he's never played professionally before. The rules clearly state—"

"That a player must have previously played in a competitive match, not a professional one," Fowler said with an air of triumph. "Potter has done so."

"School games do not count!"

"They do for the EAQ. The referee at Hogwarts, Madam Hooch, is a certified referee with EAQ accreditation. That means administration of these games technically comes under its jurisdiction and means they qualify as officially sanctioned competitive games."

"You and your technicalities!" Karlsson fumed, hands on her hips. Her eyes were still bulging. "It does not change the fact you've got an adolescent schoolboy on your team who hasn't the faintest idea of what it means to play proper Quidditch!"

"If that's the case," Fowler said, his face darkening as he took a step towards her, "what is it you're afraid of? That a mere schoolboy might beat your precious Larsson to the Snitch? Do you have so little faith in your own players?"

Karlsson's face screwed up and her hand began to hover by her robe pocket, as if she was resisting the urge to curse him with everything she had.

"This is not the end of it, Fowler," she spat. "Believe that." Looking back at Harry, she snorted in contempt as she looked him up and down. "Enjoy this while you can, Boy Who Lived. You're going to be humiliated on that pitch."

With one last foul look at them both, she turned on her heel and stalked off in the direction of the cafeteria. The two Swedish players, to their credit, looked a little embarrassed by their manager's outburst, and nodded respectfully to the other team before following, with one even offering Harry a slight smile as he left.

This smile, however, did not lift the dark mood Harry had begun sinking into at the manager's words. Adolescent schoolboy … no idea what it means to play proper Quidditch …

"Evil woman," Fowler grumbled as they began headed back up to the Players' Lodge again. "Don't mind her, Potter, but keep an eye out, like I said. After my words with the EAQ witch yesterday, they did a bit of investigating and found she's been trying to bribe one of the Irish Ministry officials into having you kicked off the team. Obviously, that's against the rules and the Swedish team's been fined. That's why she's grousing. She was so thrilled to hear the French team had managed to poison us she's just pissed now that I managed to replace my missing players. Ignore it."

Harry wished he could dismiss it as easily as this, but the conversation lingered with him long after they'd all gone back to the Lodge and washed and changed. He could barely concentrate during the strategy meeting and left the gym session much earlier than the others, claiming a sore head. He sat alone in his room for at least an hour thinking it over.

She was right. No matter what way Fowler tried to twist it, Harry had never played in a professional Quidditch match before. The oldest player he'd ever played against was a seventh year, at most seventeen or eighteen years old. The Swedish team were all in their twenties and had several years behind them competing successfully in the Swedish Quidditch League. A couple of them had even won the European Cup with their respective teams. What chance did he have?

He began again to think about how stupid it was that he was even here thinking he had a hope of winning. He must look like a hopeful fool, entirely deluded and imbued with a false sense of confidence after a few school victories. Was this what the whole of Europe was now thinking? Being delighted at winning over the rest of his team now seemed ridiculously optimistic.

The sky outside was growing darker, but Harry longed to get out of this room, which suddenly seemed stifling. Knowing that he would be pursued by Aurors if he tried to leave the Lodge or its grounds, he got up and started rooting around in his school trunk for his Invisibility Cloak. Finding it scrunched into a ball at the bottom, he drew it out, ran his hands through its silky folds for a moment before draping it around himself.

Feeling a bit reckless, he stole out of his room and crept along the corridor. Fowler wasn't yet back in his room, which meant his usual trip jinxes and other anti-sneaking out features had not yet been set up, so Harry had no trouble making his way down to the lobby, which was busy even at this late hour with various officials. No one batted an eyelid as Harry discretely opened the door to the gardens and slipped out.

The familiar smell of the gardens was comforting, but Harry still felt the need to get further away. To be able to walk and breathe without being worried about others around him. He headed towards the silver gate and, taking only half a second to think about it, pushed his way through into the woods beyond.

Harry set off down the lantern-lit path, unsure exactly where he was going, but just desperate to get out of sight of both the Lodge and the stadium. About halfway to the stadium, a smaller path branched off from the main one. Harry hesitated a second before following it.

The path led him deep into the forest, twisting and turning around large tree roots, growing narrower and narrower until it fizzled out entirely. Harry then found himself scrambling over uneven ground, crunching twigs as he went. He was soon breathless, but the exercise and fresh air, tinged slightly with the scent of pine needles, was helping to drive him onwards and dispel some of the darkness around his thoughts.

After a while, believing himself to have eluded any invisible Aurors, he pulled off the Cloak and stuffed it into his pocket. It made breathing and the walking easier and he felt freer as the light summer breeze began to brush against his skin. It was deadly silent here; even the nocturnal birds had not yet woken up. It was the stillness in the gap between twilight and dusk. Entirely peaceful.

Harry stopped and breathed in for a few moments, letting some of the tension leave his shoulders. After the hustle and bustle of the Players' Lodge, this was an untouched wilderness of calm.

He pressed on, and soon the trees in front of him opened out to reveal a large clearing of soft downy grass which rippled slightly in the soft breeze. Harry was about to cross this clearing when he suddenly saw a dark shape lying down in the long grass before him.

Immediately on edge, Harry reached into his pocket for a wand, cursing himself for coming so far into the woods alone, but was settled the next moment when he stepped a little closer and recognised the blond head which was visible through some of the undulating blades of grass.

It was Evan, and like the first day Harry had seen him, he was entirely still, though this time he was lying down and his eyes were open, staring up into the darkening sky with a mesmerised expression. It looked like such a personal moment, and Harry did not want to intrude, not least because he was still uncertain about this boy, so he began to retreat.

As he did so, Evan's head turned sharply. "Who's there?"

Cringing, Harry stepped forwards again. "It's Harry."

"Harry?" Evan sat upright and turned towards him, the corner of his mouth lifting up slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Harry suddenly felt a bit embarrassed at coming so far alone, but then, why was Evan here?

"I just needed to get out," Harry said honestly, seeing Evan nodding slightly. "I felt suffocated."

"I get that," he said quietly. He patted the ground next to him. "Come sit with me."

For some reason, the thought of that made Harry begin to panic slightly.

"Uh, I don't want to intrude. I didn't know you were here so—"

"Come on," Evan said, and his lips twisted into a genuine smile which lit up his whole face.

Drawn in by the sight of that smile, Harry found himself walking closer. Evan watched him as he drew up and sat cross-legged beside him. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly and adjusted his position. He felt that he should say something, but Evan did not seem ready for conversation, looking down at the ground and running his fingers through the grass. Harry cast around for something to say to break the silence and was reminded of their conversation yesterday.

"I think you're a great flier too," he blurted out, then immediately wished he hadn't when Evan raised his eyes to look at him in surprise. "I mean—yesterday, what you said about me … I think you're really good too. Amazing, in fact. I've never seen anyone fly like you."

Harry looked away, but before he did, he could have sworn there was a slight flush to Evan's cheeks. What did you go and say that for?

"Thank you," Evan said after a moment. "I love to fly."

"Yeah, it's the only time you smile," Harry said, staring at his knees. He felt he was digging himself in a deeper hole with everything he said, yet he could not stop. "The only time I see you happy."

"I didn't realise you noticed," Evan said, looking back down at the ground. "I don't usually have much cause for smiling."

Harry cast a glance at him from the corner of his eye. Was he sad? He couldn't tell. Evan's face gave nothing away.

"Why's that? If it's not too personal," he hastened to add.

He wasn't sure if Evan was going to answer, but eventually, he spoke. "There aren't a lot of things in my life which give me joy, except Quidditch," he said slowly. "I get … troubled, quite often. When I do, I need to escape, find somewhere to relax, to meditate. It's what helps me."

"Do you want me to leave?" Harry asked, suddenly afraid he was disturbing him if he wanted to be alone.

"No," Evan said straight away, meeting his eyes again. "I'd like you to stay."

Harry felt a positive surge of happiness as he heard that and was privately relieved. He'd had no wish to leave.

Evan looked away and peered up into the sky. "Do you know anything about astronomy?"

"Uh," Harry said, thinking of the 'Acceptable' he'd just gained in his Astronomy OWL, "a bit."

"I like to stargaze," Evan continued, staring upwards. "I like waiting for the first stars to appear."

Harry also looked up, seeing an indigo blue sky tinged with pinkish orange hues. "Might be a while. It's not late enough yet and it's summer."

"I don't mind," Evan said, "I'm pretty patient."

Thinking of how good at Evan was at waiting for the perfect moment to strike during their training sessions, Harry wasn't surprised. He searched around for something to say but came up short. Despite desperately wanting to stay, he was deeply uncomfortable.

"Is this where you come when we can't find you?" Harry asked, wondering if this was a bit too probing.

"Sometimes." Evan's eyes roamed over the sky. "I get up early every morning to come here to see the sun rising over the trees. Sometimes you can see Sirius as well."

And just like that, Harry felt like someone had stabbed a knife into his heart. He tore his eyes away from the sky and breathed heavily, drawing his knees closer to his chest. He'd never see Sirius again.

Seeming to notice, Evan turned his head. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to compose himself. "I am." Upon seeing Evan's sceptical raising of an eyebrow however, he elaborated. "It's just … my godfather's name was Sirius. And he … died. Recently."

Evan winced. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "I know what it's like to lose someone. It's hard."

Harry nodded, unable to bring himself to speak with the lump in his throat. After a moment of pulling himself together, he found himself continuing on.

"He'd have loved all this," he said, locking his hands under his knees. "The Quidditch. He bought me my Firebolt. It's just hard to know he'll … he'll never write to me again. That I can never tell him about this. It's just not fair to not be able to have him here … not now that his name's been cleared."

Why he was pouring his heart out to this almost perfect stranger, he had no idea, but it felt good to get it off his chest, to put into words the weight he'd been carrying around all summer and had not yet expressed to anyone. Evan did not seem to mind.

"I read about him in the papers," he said, "and you're right, it isn't fair. To be hounded and punished all those years when he was actually innocent. You were robbed of him. I'm sure he'd be proud of you."

"That's what everyone says," Harry said bitterly, staring at the ground, "and I know it's true. Doesn't change the fact though that I wish it was him telling me."

"No, I don't suppose it does."

They fell into silence, but Harry didn't mind. Speaking about Sirius, hard as it was, made him feel slightly better. It was odd; he hadn't even written to Ron or Hermione about how he was feeling after losing Sirius. Nor about the crushing weight the knowledge of the prophecy had forced on him. How could someone he'd only just met help him like this when he'd never even known Sirius?

"Was it being upset over your godfather that made you wander in the woods, or was it something else? You seemed bothered even before I mentioned his name." Evan said after several minutes. It could have been a rude question from anyone else, but Harry sensed Evan's directness was intended kindly, and not invasively.

"It was—" he said, breaking off as he wondered if he should say, "—it was Karlsson."

Evan nodded deeply. "She's not the nicest, is she? She wasn't happy when they announced I was playing either."

"At least you were an official reserve, though," Harry pointed out. "You were technically already on the squad."

"Only just," Evan said, eyes growing distant. "I'm not sure really why I was picked. I've only played in one game for the Appleby Arrows, and that was only in the last half hour as substitute. But Fowler saw me play and insisted on me joining. The main team weren't happy one of their reserves was picked over any of them."

"You're kidding?" Harry asked incredulously. "Who wouldn't pick you? You fly so well and you're the best Keeper I've seen." Flushing furiously as Evan looked back at him, he began to stammer. "I mean—I know I already said that ... but it's true! I wish I could move half as well as you. You look so professional when you fly, and I—I guess I'm just worried that I'll stick out."

He drew a deep breath, kicking himself for babbling like that. Intensely embarrassed, he could have stood up and ran for the trees. He was rewarded, however, by the sound of a short laugh. Raising his eyes, he saw Evan smiling again, blue eyes sparkling in the half-light.

"But you do too," he said, hearteningly. "Don't you know that? You think Fowler would let you be on the team if you didn't fly like a professional? If you didn't, he be off scooping up a foreign player and trying to forge a birth certificate to prove they were born in England."

"But what if Karlsson's right?" Harry asked, though experiencing a swoop of delight in his belly at Evan's words. "I've only played in school games before. What if I can't keep up? What if—"

Harry broke off, coming to the crux of the matter, dipping his eyes. "I got famous for being lucky," he said gloomily. "What if that's all I've been until now?"

Evan was quiet for a moment, and as they sat there, Harry could hear the first sounds of owls beginning to hoot in the nearby trees.

"I can't answer that, Harry," he said. "But, for what it's worth, I don't think so. You're an amazing player, even if you're starting to doubt that. Continue training and upping your game, and you'll prove that to everyone, no problem. You've already proven it to Fowler, and the rest of us."

Harry stole a glance back at him and was glad to see the smile still on his face. It seemed strange to see it there on the face of someone who always seemed so stoic and passive. It was as though the effect of the serene woods and semi-twilight had caused some mystical change to come over him.

He began to wonder what it was that troubled this boy so much that he had to steal away in private to meditate. Here, in the clearing, he seemed so free of worry, so open and honest. Harry found the thought of him being so upset deeply distressing.

"Thanks," he murmured, deciding not to argue anymore. For some reason, when he looked at Evan, he was somehow able to believe him. His heart gave another one of those funny leaps as Evan looked into his eyes.

Harry was gladder than ever he had chosen to sneak out of the Lodge this night, at this time. The thought of having missed Evan, missed this conversation was not a pleasant one. It was almost as if he had been drawn here on purpose.

The seconds dragged on, and the two of them continued to look at each other, the beating of Harry's heart steadily growing faster. His mouth had gone dry.

An owl hooted loudly nearby, and Harry jerked his head towards it, pulled out of Evan's spell. Darkness now really had descended, and he knew Fowler would soon be setting up all his jinxes and traps. He should get back.

"I should go," he said quickly, jumping up and brushing down his jeans, clearing his throat. He knew was in danger of staying out here all night experiencing this strange rush of emotions if he didn't leave now.

Evan stayed where he was on the ground, frowning slightly, as though Harry had disappointed him somehow. He made no move to leave.

Harry avoided Evan's eyes as he turned to leave, half walking half running across the grass, leaving the other boy and his confused feelings in the clearing behind him.