Friday 2nd September 1994
History of Magic was just as dull as ever and was used as an opportunity for a few panicked Gryffindor students like Ron to furtively finish off their last-minute holiday essays for Charms.
"Writing two feet on 'What is your favourite charm and why?' should have been the easiest thing in the world," Hermione scoffed as they left the classroom.
"Except maybe for the length," teased Harry. "How many feet did you write?"
"…Three," she admitted, which made Neville laugh.
"My first draft was four feet long!" she added defensively. "I cut a lot!"
They hurried to Defence Against the Dark Arts, and followed Hermione to seats in the front row, getting out their books.
"I still can't believe our teacher picked the same book that we used in first year," grumbled Harry. "I hope we learn some new spells."
"Shh! He's coming!" said Neville nervously, and the whole class waited quietly as Professor Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps came down the corridor and he entered the room.
For different reasons, both Harry and Ron were eager to put their books away when Moody growled out an order for the class to do so. After the roll was called, Moody launched into a review of what they'd covered in previous classes.
"Now, this year you'll be learning about curses. Illegal Dark curses. According to the Ministry of Magic, I am supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. In their estimable opinion you have no need to know the curses themselves until NEWT level, and they think you are not old enough to cope with that knowledge yet. But Professor Dumbledore thinks otherwise. He has a high opinion of your nerves and reckons you can cope. He and I think the sooner you know what you are up against, the better," Moody said.
Moody glanced around the room in an unnerving fashion as his magical eye swivelled around the room to catch any hint of movement, like Brown showing Patil her Charms homework under the desk, which earned the girls a swift rebuke.
"You cannot defend yourself against a curse you have never seen, that you know nothing about. You need to be ready," insisted Moody, as he resumed his lecture. "A wizard about to curse you will not warn you politely about what he is casting at you. You have scant seconds to react with the right shield or counter-curse, and if you take too long to think or you guess wrong, well, you might end up as pretty as me!"
He pointed to his glassy right eye as he finished the last sentence with a grin, and then tapped his nose where a chunk was missing from it, and then pointed to a few of the larger and uglier scars criss-crossing his face.
Lavender Brown wasn't the only person in the room who shuddered at the thought of ending up like that. Harry felt a bit ill himself, remembering poor Arthur Weasley who might indeed look a lot like Moody now, with a missing eye and all. At least he still had both his legs, even though they'd been badly clawed and bitten.
Moody lectured them on the Unforgiveable Curses: the Imperius, the Cruciatus, and last of all, the Killing Curse. The demonstrations of their effects on engorged spiders horrified everyone, to a greater or lesser extent.
Harry stared at the dead spider on the floor, remembering the memories induced by the Boggart-Dementor last year. His mother running up the stairs with him to the nursery. Carving a rune on his forehead. Pleading with Voldemort for Harry's life, as he offered to spare her. The flash of green light and the horrifying thud as her body hit the ground.
Neville gently nudged Harry's side with a covert elbow. "You okay?" he whispered. "That one must have been as hard for you as the Cruciatus was for me."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," reassured Harry, forcing a smile as fake as Neville's own was.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" roared Moody, which caused most of the class to jump. Harry and Neville, however, had been more distracted due to their whispered conversation and had missed what their teacher had been lecturing about, so were even more startled than the rest of the students. Harry automatically ducked down and covered his head with his hands, while Neville let out a frightened "Eep!" and almost tipped over backwards in his chair as he recoiled in instinctual fear.
Moody gave a ghastly grin to them both – perhaps he meant it to look reassuring, it was hard to tell – then resumed his lecture on the Unforgiveable Curses as the class took notes.
As Moody covered the history and casting method of the Killing Curse in more detail, Harry frowned and put his hand up. It startled Neville out of his brooding and quiet note-taking. Usually it was only Hermione who dared to interrupt a teacher in the middle of their monologue with questions.
"Yes, boy?"
"It's Potter, sir," Harry said, sounding at least outwardly courteous. He hated it when people called him 'boy'. "You keep saying that there's no counter-curse for the Killing Curse, and that's certainly true, but I wondered if you are going to cover the other kinds of defences against it soon."
There was a murmur of impressed interest and curiosity from his classmates on hearing his question.
"An expert on the topic, are you?"
"Certainly not as much as you are sir, as a retired Auror. However, I have read every book or story about the Killing Curse I could get my hands on. So, I know that while what you said about there being no magical counter or shield is technically correct, there are still several ways to defend against it."
"Not counting being Harry Potter," Moody said, with an odd gruff laugh.
"Yes, not counting that," he agreed, looking rather embarrassed and glancing away as he thought about his mother's runic circle hidden under his cot, and the scar on his face.
"Name a half dozen methods that would let a wizard survive when someone casts the Killing Curse at you, and you'll earn yourself twenty points for Sly… I'm sorry, for Gryffindor," their teacher said with a toothy grin, making a couple of students in the class snicker.
"Dodging out of the way."
"One. Easy answer. Give me something better," Professor Moody demanded.
"Blocking it by hiding behind a physical object, like a thick stone wall or fence. I've read about two Aurors who used that to survive multiple Killing Curses being cast at them in the last war. You were one of them, in fact."
"Good. Two."
"A conjured or transfigured physical barrier – like summoning up an earthen wall. Or a conjured living barrier, like a snake or a flock of birds."
Hermione, Harry noticed, was frantically taking notes as he spoke, which was quite flattering.
"Three and four. Keep going, now it's getting interesting!" Moody said.
Blocking with another person was another method, but Harry didn't want to say that one out loud. It would sound bad. It was true that some Death Eaters had resorted to summoning their enemies into the way of an Auror's Killing Curse to kill them off through 'friendly fire' in the last war, but Harry didn't want to talk about that strategy. He thought of something else to volunteer instead.
"Lack of intent – the Killing Curse requires the desire to kill on the part of the caster."
"That isn't something you can control. Well… except with the Imperius Curse, perhaps. So, I will grant you that point on a technicality. Just one more, Potter."
"Apparition. The Killing Curse is a targeted ray. If you can get away in time, you're safe."
Moody shook his head. "Not many people can Disapparate quickly and well under stress. Certainly not at your age, without training. Very dubious, that one."
"But it's theoretically possible," countered Harry. "I didn't say any of them would be easy. Well, except maybe lack of killing intent. If you're lucky and you can talk your way into getting your enemy hesitating about killing you.
"But, if you don't think it counts, well… disarming your opponent with Expelliarmus is another method that will work if you're fast enough to interrupt the incantation. You'd probably need to cast that non-verbally to be quick enough, though."
"Twenty points for Gryffindor!" yelled Moody, grinning as half the class flinched again in their seats at the sudden noise. "Now there's a lad who's not going to be caught napping without a plan. No-one's going to catch him and give him a matching scar!"
Moody spun quickly and pointed his wand at Harry, who reflexively tumbled out of his chair and ducked down behind a desk in panic.
"Protego!" Harry yelled. A shimmering golden shield of force appeared in front of him where he cowered on the floor, waiting for the spells to start.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" yelled Moody again with glee.
He laughed rather maniacally for a moment before cutting it off with an embarrassed cough. "Thought I was going to kill you, did you boy? Good lad. Trust no-one! Take another ten points for Sl… Gryffindor. Your Shield Charm wouldn't have helped you if I had been casting the Killing Curse, mind you. It would go straight through, as I think you well know. The desk and chair legs might have helped a little. Work on those reflexes, Potter!"
Harry picked himself up off the floor warily and dropped his Shield charm, eyeing his Professor worriedly. Watching his face for shifts of expression, watching his hands for sudden movement.
"Mental," breathed Ron in unadulterated awe, watching Moody. "Totally mental."
Neville – still in his seat – had his wand out and pointed at their teacher. Trembling, but pointed in unspoken threat.
Moody's false eye had rolled slightly in its socket to look at Neville, while his normal eye kept gazing straight at Harry. "Ten points to Gryffindor for Longbottom, who is the only one in this class of brave lions who was ready to fight, and who is still waiting to be sure the fight is actually over before lowering his wand. Old duelling etiquette that is, and damn good common sense to boot. Alright lad, it's finished, you can relax now." Moody's scarred face looked rather frightening as he grinned again. He lazily swished his wand in a salute against his chest before lowering it and putting it away at last, which Neville took as his cue to do likewise. Neville cautiously helped Harry up, watching Moody warily.
"It's not over until he puts his wand away," murmured Neville as he sat down. Harry wasn't sure Neville was actually addressing to him as he spoke – there was a lost, faraway look in his eyes, like he was thinking of something or someone else.
Neville blinked and brightened up as he added happily, "I got ten points! I was rather brave, wasn't I, Harry? I shall write and tell Gran all about it."
Hermione earnt Gryffindor five extra points too, as she finally judged it was socially acceptable to thrust her hand up into the air to eagerly volunteer her own suggestion of the Silencing Charm as being another potential defence against the Killing Curse, or indeed any of the Unforgiveables, which the well-read knew were notoriously difficult to cast silently.
The rest of the lesson went more quickly, as Professor Moody started lecturing about the weaknesses of Shield Charms against the three Unforgiveables, and soon enough they were free from his frankly unnerving and unpredictable gaze. It made Harry tense that he couldn't really tell who or what their teacher was watching and focusing on at any given moment.
He didn't linger to ask questions about it though. Professor Moody assigned them homework – a mere foot explaining their argument for which of the three Unforgiveable Curses was the worst, and a summary of its effects. Then Harry and Neville hurried out of class as quickly as they could.
"Thanks, Nev," Harry said quietly after they'd left the classroom, walking rather solemnly next to each other. Hermione was walking with Ron, chatting about the thrilling lesson. Harry hadn't found it half so enjoyable as those two had. Neville still seemed in a bit of a daze, but at Harry's comment he blinked, and shook himself as he turned to focus on Harry.
"It was my honoured duty to come to the aid of my ally," Neville said formally. He then relaxed as he continued, "With any luck that will be your fated attack by a Defence teacher all over and done with for the year, though I would not want to count on it. I must say I am rather glad I didn't drop my wand this time – I have been practicing my draw. I regret I did not cast a spell, but as he is our teacher that was perhaps for the best in any case."
"Probably so. We should keep watching him. That was scary!"
Neville nodded. "Because you never know, with an old wizard like him. You never know what they will do. To test you. To see what you're capable of." That distant look was in Neville's eyes again, and Harry had the suspicion he was thinking of his not-so-beloved Great-Uncle Algie.
"We'll watch him," Harry vowed. "Together."
-000-
Slughorn was delighted to see Harry on Saturday morning and happy to reserve the club room for the second and fourth Sunday mornings of the month for Harry's Potter Watch club meetings.
He seemed inclined to settle in for a leisurely chat, and after extracting Harry's promise to come to his occasional evening Slug Club meetings, he started talking about the other groups that had reserved spots.
"The Frog Choir is leading things off with fortnightly meetings on Saturdays, and your friend Granger's monthly H.E.L.P. Society meetings start tomorrow, of course. The Gobstones Club leader has seen me already and reserved a new extra time slot for a formal monthly inter-House tournament. Good idea, eh? I did love a game myself when I was young, so I am sponsoring them with some prizes of chocolate for the first three places."
Harry shifted anxiously from foot to foot. "I'm sure that will be very popular, sir. Well, I really must be going, sorry."
"Oh yes! I heard about your detention at breakfast," Slughorn said, with a sympathetic look. "Never mind, Potter. Just be a bit more discreet in the future!"
"You don't think it… means someone is a blood purist? If they're bowing? Or you do think it means that, but you approve?" Harry asked rashly.
Slughorn smiled at him. "Etiquette is the grease that keeps the world turning smoothly, and everyone demands those little gestures in their own way – your Head of House included. Otherwise she would be happy to be called 'Minerva' by her students and would forgo the titles of 'Professor' and 'ma'am'. Some people just have different expectations of what courtesy demands of us.
"Are you a blood purist, Potter? Do you think marriages between those of pure-blood and Muggle-born status should be permitted or not? Should Muggle-borns and sympathetic Muggles be allowed to mix in our society? Are those with purer blood better wizards and witches than those with the touch of earth from their Muggle ancestry?"
"No, I'm not – that is, I don't think I am. I think people should marry whomever they love, and everyone should be welcome in society. I… I don't know if those with purer blood are better at magic," Harry admitted hesitantly. "I mean, I don't think they are, but I've never read any scientific test on the matter. I have heard they live longer and are more inclined to have special talents. But even if that might be true there's obviously exceptions, and I wouldn't want to make any assumptions one way or the other without researching it, to be honest. I certainly wouldn't assume a Muggle-born is going to be naturally worse at magic. Even if there is a trend, it means nothing on an individual level. Look at Hermione! She's great at magic."
"What about old Cantankerous Nott's study comparing the NEWT results of Muggle-born and pure-blood students in an appendix of his book?" Slughorn challenged. "Some cite that as the very proof you are after."
Harry shook his head. "He had a strong political agenda with his pure-blood directory, so all his results are suspect. We know he left out some pure-blood families he should have included while he ignored some mixed marriages for families he liked… or whose Galleons he liked, perhaps. I think he cherry-picked his data on NEWT results, because he didn't give a reason as to why he left out the results for 1908 to 1910. Don't you think that's odd?"
Slughorn chuckled. "Well said, and it's not so odd if you know that those three years had some truly exceptional Muggle-born students graduating from Hogwarts. Well, Potter, for what it is worth I would say you are not a blood-purist, you're just a polite young lad. Myself, I judge people on their merits – family is not the only thing that matters, you know. With a little bit of help a Muggle-born student or someone from an unranked family can go just as far as a pure-blood Heir. Off with you now. No tattling on me to McGonagall, now! Remember, courtesy and discretion." He tapped the side of his nose as a reminder to be more secretive.
"Yes, sir."
Harry still wasn't completely sure about the rights and wrongs of the etiquette of bowing, but his professor's endorsement of his beliefs as not being blood-purist in nature was heartening.
When he entered the Transfiguration classroom for his two-hour detention, he found Colin already writing away, and three tiny first-year students just settling down at desks – two boys in casual robes, and one girl with a green hair ribbon.
"Potter, you sit next to Creevey. Baddock, Pritchard, you two over there. Runcorn, you take the desk behind the Slytherin boys. All of you start copying the lines off the board, and no talking," McGonagall said sternly.
Harry settled in with a swift quiet mutter of "Sorry" to Colin and began copying out McGonagall's lines: 'I am no better, and no worse, than anyone else at Hogwarts just because of who my family is. We are all witches and wizards here, and of equal rank. We may all mix with whomsoever we choose. I will not promulgate the doctrines of blood purity.'
Half an hour into their long and painful scratching out of lines with their quills, their detention was interrupted as Professor Sprout came in with a rebellious-looking first-year in tow. She was an average-looking short girl with her long brown hair worn loose – tucked back behind her large pierced ears studded with little silver crescent moons – and she was wearing plain black school work robes even though it was the weekend (when most students favoured more casual attire).
"Another one for detention, Minerva," Professor Sprout said, with a disappointed look down at her student, who crossed her arms and scowled, avoiding her gaze. "Eleanor Branstone, first-year – one of my Hufflepuffs. She will need to do lines on religion – she was caught setting up an altar in her dorm room."
"Oh my goodness, really? A Muggle-born?! Take a seat then Branstone, on your own or next to Runcorn."
Branstone complied grudgingly with a noisy scrape of the chair legs on the stone floor as she sat crossly, ignoring her Head of House's parting injunctions to behave.
Professor McGonagall wrote up another paragraph of lines on the board: 'Magic is just a force and should not be offered worship; I will offer it no sacrifices. Nor shall I practice Dark magic of any kind, for I wish to remain a student at Hogwarts. I will not evangelise pagan superstitions.'
Harry and Colin exchanged a quick guilty look as they glanced over the new lines Branstone would have to copy. The three Slytherins were also distracted from their lines, taking covert peeks at the newest addition to their detention.
The brown-haired Hufflepuff girl wasn't quick to get started at her work, and just sat there at the desk glaring at the teacher's back with beady eyes. When McGonagall turned around, the girl said accusingly, "You told me and my mum that everyone at Hogwarts was a witch or a wizard. Why can't I be free to practise my religion? I'm proud of being a witch! You promised that the days of witches being persecuted were over. I thought the Statute of Secrecy meant Hogwarts was a haven for Wiccans, but Professor Sprout said I couldn't have an altar and she even made me take my pentacle necklace off!"
"That is enough," McGonagall said severely, stalking over to put a pile of blank parchment down in front of her. "We are free from persecution to practice magic as I told you when I visited your family, but that liberty does not extend to Dark magic, which is illegal. Five points from Hufflepuff, and if you do not wish to be spending the next month in detention you will get started on your lines immediately!"
Branstone got a quill and ink out of her bag and started writing, looking angry and miserable about it.
They were all finally released an hour and a half later, hands cramped and spotted with ink blots. One by one they went up to McGonagall's desk and handed over their long parchments filled with lines to her and offered up their apologetic promises – sincere or otherwise – to act better in the future.
Out in the corridor one of the Slytherin boys, Baddock, dashed off to catch up to Branstone who was hurrying away at a quick, furious pace.
Millicent was waiting outside the Transfiguration classroom door and pounced on Harry as soon as he emerged. "Harry, I need to talk to you. In private," she said, in a low voice.
"Uh, sure. Just wait a second, I need to say something to Creevey first."
Harry turned to the young Gryffindor as he emerged and said, "Creevey, I just want you to know that I'm sorry I got you in trouble."
The mousey-haired boy smiled cheerfully at him in instant forgiveness. "Oh, it's fine! You were just trying to be polite and stuff – so was I. It was my fault too, trying to teach it all to Dennis right there in a corridor."
"I don't know if it's really fine or not, but in any case, I really wanted to explain properly to you that I honestly don't think Muggle-born students are any better or worse than any other wizards or witches. And I don't look down on you or think I'm better than you because of who my ancestors are, or what family you're from. So, I wanted to say sorry if you thought that, because I certainly didn't mean anything like that…"
Harry trailed awkwardly to a stop, then held out his ink-spotted hand to shake – Creevey shook it eagerly.
"No offence taken at all, Potter. I knew you didn't think that because you've always been really nice to me, not like some of the Sly... some people," he finished awkwardly, with a sidelong glance at Millicent who was hovering impatiently nearby.
"I hope no-one's giving you trouble?" Harry checked.
"No, no, it's fine now."
Creevey waved a cheerful goodbye as he left, then Millicent promptly dragged Harry by the hand into an empty classroom, just the two of them. She closed the door behind them, dimming the noise of the chattering students heading down the stone corridors off to lunch.
"Shouldn't we have a chaperone if we're meeting alone?" Harry asked nervously, as she stared at him intently. "Where are the other girls?"
Millicent bowed low from the waist to Harry, a supplicant abasing themselves before their patron. "Harold James Potter, Heir of the Houses of Slytherin, Black, and Potter, I come to thee in secret in search of thine aid."
"Millicent, really, that's not necessary, stand up – we're friends! Is this some gossip about my detention? I don't really demand that people should bow to me, you know. You don't need to be all formal, honestly. Are you alright? What's wrong?"
She straightened up, and Harry was taken aback by the look on her face. Not grief, or fear, but fierce determination. "I need your help, Harry. The Headmaster has cancelled the Quidditch season."
"Uh, yes," agreed Harry.
They stared at each other silently for a moment. "I'm really sorry?" Harry added hesitantly. "It must be very disappointing; I know you love Quidditch."
"So… I need your help. I want you to convince the Headmaster to bring back Quidditch," Millicent explained slowly. "You have his ear. You have connections across the Houses, and even in the Ministry, and with Quidditch teams too. You sat in the Top Box at the Quidditch World Cup, for Merlin's sake! I believe you can do this for me, for all of us, and of course I will be in your debt if you do."
"Well, I don't know if I can… the Triwizard Cup sounds like a big deal, and I doubt the Headmaster cancelled Quidditch just because he felt like it. I know it's a shame, but there's always next year!" he said encouragingly.
Millicent shook her head. "No, this year. I need to get on the Slytherin team this year. Derrick will have graduated by next year. You don't understand – I spent practically all the favours I have been saving for the past four years! I used my blackmail secrets I have been hoarding. I sold information – even on you. I claimed all the favours people owe me for services rendered and secrets kept."
"You sold information on me?" Harry checked nervously. "What information?"
"Nothing damaging," promised Millicent. "Confirmation for a couple of people about you being a Parselmouth and the Heir of Slytherin – how I saw you commanding snake statues in the Chamber of Secrets, similar to the scene in Lockhart's book. Also… I told Draco about you being a Metamorphmagus."
"What?! Why would you do that?"
"Well, because of various deals I have a guaranteed spot on the team if Derrick gets the Captaincy, but if Montague gets it I will only get a preferential try-out. So, I traded the information for a major favour from him – Draco will order Crabbe to not run against me if Montague's made Captain, and the Malfoys will offer some favour to the Crabbe family of course in compensation. That will practically ensure I get the spot."
Harry sighed unhappily, giving her a frustrated look.
"I really am sorry, but I could not sit on that information forever with no return on my secrecy, and I wasn't sworn to secrecy," Millicent said nervously. "It's not like I announced it to the Daily Prophet or Witch Weekly. I did not tell anyone about us cheating in History of Magic, or ruin your lies about Lockhart or his book, or anything harmful to your reputation! Only good things!"
"If I'd wanted Draco or anyone to know about me being a partial Metamorphmagus, I would have told them!"
"Well yes, obviously. That is why you kept it secret, and that is why it was worth such a big favour," said Millicent. "If you want to tell other people about that yourself, you may want to do so quickly as I only got a promise from him to wait a week before he will be free to discreetly tell anyone else."
Harry groaned, and buried his face in his hands.
"Look, Harry, I am sorry, but I need this. Quidditch is my chance. To do something – to be someone. I am not a good student – the only O I get is for History of Magic and we both know that is nothing to boast about. I am failing Potions, and I only get Acceptables for Charms and Transfiguration, and that is with plenty of studying. I am trying, but I am just not much of a witch, and I am no good at essays. I am no beauty either – I am muscular and overweight, and no-one is ever going to compare my face to Helen of Troy's. I shall graduate Hogwarts with no Apprenticeship lined up, no fiancé who wants me except maybe some old or ugly wizard who cares more about blood purity than matching temperaments or good looks, and no job my parents will consider letting me work at because there's nothing I'm good at that's not beneath the family dignity. Except Quidditch. It is my one hope and I will not let my chance be ruined because of some idiotic international competition that cannot possibly take up the whole school year!"
She was yelling for the last sentence of her ranted explanation, chest heaving and plump chin wobbling as she clearly tried not to cry.
"Please, Harry," she sniffled miserably. "Help me."
Harry reached out tentatively to pat her on the shoulder. "Okay. It's okay. I'll see what I can do. I'm sure you're not the only person who's upset by this. The Weasley twins are just as angry about it, and Ron is a miserable scowling thundercloud about his lost chance, too, especially since he's too young to enter the Tournament. I'll get help – we'll work together, and we'll bring Quidditch back this year."
Harry thought she might hug him and braced himself for it, but Millicent bowed low again and murmured formally that she was indebted to her patron for his assistance. Harry automatically gave her a short unthinking bow of acknowledgement and left the room with a determined stride, the beginnings of a plan glimmering in his mind. He would need help for this, but luckily, he knew just the people for the job, starting with Professor Slughorn.
-000-
With only an hour left before dinner time the club room was packed, and everyone was glad that Slughorn had overseen its expansion to double its size compared to last year. Harry had plenty of friends eager to help spread word of his upcoming emergency meeting at top speed, and the Weasley twins had been the most determined self-proclaimed 'priority owls' anyone could hope for. Working together, they'd managed to gather together everyone from all four Quidditch teams including the reserve players. Harry had also attracted a good handful of extra people who'd heard about the 'Save Quidditch' meeting either from gossip or from reading the hastily pinned announcement on the club room's message board. So, the room was also packed with Quidditch team hopefuls too, as well as keen fans outraged at the year's cancellation of matches they'd been anticipating watching.
Standing nervously at the front of the room in front of a blackboard, Harry cast his eye over the crowded room with people packed everywhere on sofas and wooden chairs, with a few students lining the walls and sitting on rugs on the ground, and took a deep breath to ground himself.
"Hello everyone, welcome to the first meeting of the 'Save Quidditch' group," Harry started. "Thanks for coming, and thanks also to Madam Hooch who's joined us this evening as our group's teacher-supervisor and who I'm pleased to say is of course very much in favour of our goal!"
Madam Hooch, seated comfortably in a plush lavender armchair, smiled and waved as the students gave her and Harry an enthusiastic round of applause.
Harry waited for the room to quiet down again before continuing. "I'm sure the senior years are very excited about the possibility of entering the Triwizard Tournament, but that's only going to be an option for just one senior student from Hogwarts, and all the junior students aren't even eligible.
"Hermione Granger has done some quick research into past Tournaments – thanks Hermione – and typically they've consisted of between three to five challenges lasting no more than two days in length each, usually set months apart. To uh… allow for the competitors to heal up before the next challenge," Harry said, with a wince. Hermione's report based on her hasty research had been gory to hear – so many past competitors had died or been crippled.
"The Tournaments where the challenges were very close together were often the more disastrous ones, so her research suggests that for safety's sake they'll be at least two months apart. So, three to five events set months apart, which should take up no more than ten days in total, should allow plenty of time for us to have Hogwarts Quidditch matches, don't you think?!"
There was a chorus of cheers and applause for that.
"So, first things first! I'm just a fan who's trying to get things started and organised, so it's now our four Quidditch captains who'll be taking the lead for the group. It's my honour to introduce our potential Quidditch captains for the year! Roger Davies, sixth-year, is continuing as the captain and Chaser for Ravenclaw-" Harry started, pausing for some House-proud cheering for the handsome brown-haired captain as he came up to the front of the room.
"Cedric Diggory, sixth-year, will be continuing as captain and Seeker for Hufflepuff," Harry continued, and Diggory was patted on the back and had his hand shook a lot as he joined them at the front. Harry had been a little wary about approaching him directly after his last failure and had cautiously gotten Ernie Macmillan to act as a go-between and talk to him. While not up to much general socializing, Diggory had reportedly been eager to help with their quest to reinstate Quidditch, as his father had been a big Quidditch fan and Diggory felt that continuing to play would be honouring his memory.
"Professor Slughorn sends his regards to all and best wishes for our endeavours to reinstate Quidditch, and has nominated Slytherin seventh-year Peregrine Derrick, Beater, as the new captain should we be successful!"
The Slytherins all looked cheerful and approving of their housemate's appointment, even Montague, who must surely be hiding his disappointment at the news that he'd missed out on the plum role.
"Last but by no means least, Gryffindor needs a new captain to replace Oliver Wood, who I'm sure will do our House proud in his job as the new reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United! Professor McGonagall has been consulted – thank you to Fred and George Weasley for that – and our new Gryffindor captain is Angelina Johnson, Chaser and sixth-year! Over to you four, now!" Harry led a final round of applause for the team captains, then with a relieved sigh took a seat at the front, squashed into Johnson's old spot in between Katie Bell and Fred Weasley.
Johnson gave a short speech to everyone when she reached the front. "Thanks for the support everyone! Hopefully we can actually get Quidditch back again really soon and make this our first and last group meeting! If we can't, we're still planning to run some unofficial pick-up games – we won't lose our Quidditch no matter what! So, whether our official efforts succeed or fail, if you're interested in signing up for try-outs come and see me at the end of the meeting – I have sign-up sheets for all the four Houses. We've each picked a morning for try-outs from Tuesday through Friday next week, to keep things simple and fast in case we can only squeeze some games in over the next two months before the international students arrive. I'll be working with Madam Hooch on match scheduling that could work around the Triwizard Tournament, so come and see me later if you have any thoughts on that."
Peregrine spoke up next. "My role is going to be coordinating efforts to garner support from the wider Quidditch community. For those of us in sixth and seventh year in particular, cancelling the year's matches is a very hard blow to our potential careers after Hogwarts as scouts will not be able to see us play. All students young and old will also lose a valuable year's worth of practice with a consequent loss of skill, and Quidditch supporters will lose a lot of entertainment. I already have pledges from Professor Slughorn and Megan Jones to get a letter of support for reinstating Quidditch at Hogwarts from members of the Holyhead Harpies, which will be sent to the Headmaster. Also, Harry Potter will be writing to the manager of the Appleby Arrows, and the Weasley family are going to get in touch with Oliver Wood whom as you just heard has joined Puddlemere United.
"In addition, Professor Slughorn, Luna Lovegood, and Alice Tolipan stand ready to talk to their contacts in the media, if it comes to that. If you have any valuable contacts with Quidditch teams, the Department of Magical Games and Sports, or the press, please come and consult with me about the best approach to take."
Diggory was next and kept his talk very short. "I am in charge of our petition to the Headmaster. We want as many people to sign it as possible from all four Houses, and the teachers, too. I am sure if the Headmaster sees an overwhelming and united show of support for Quidditch, he will change his mind about the ban. I need helpers from each House, ready to work together to canvass Hogwarts for signatures."
The Ravenclaw captain, Roger Davies, was the last captain to speak. "I have spoken briefly with the Headmaster this afternoon to ascertain his reasons behind the ban on Quidditch this year. His concerns are focused on splitting the school's attention from supporting our Triwizard champion, whomever they may be, the possible use of the Quidditch pitch for one or more Triwizard Tournament tasks, and the anticipated additional workload that will be imposed on several teachers due to the Tournament. Lastly, and most significantly, there will also be a strain on the Hogwarts budget this year due to the need to accommodate extra guests, as well as expenses for the Tournament tasks.
"Did you know that Quidditch games aren't free? They come with some costs, including broom and equipment maintenance and replacement, yearly fees for checking of enchantments on the Quidditch stands, the Bludgers, and the Snitch by a representative from the Ministry, and Madam Hooch's salary for her work as our referee and match coordinator. As such, I will be in charge of planning and organizing fundraising activities, as well as leading a discussion group looking at alternate venues for matches if necessary. Come and see me if you have ideas about any of that, or any other aspects we might have forgotten about!
"Also, Draco Malfoy – the Slytherin Seeker – will be talking to his father, the chairman of the Hogwarts Board of Directors, about funding allocation. If you know one of the other eleven board members, please join our group."
"One last thing before we all split into planning groups," Johnson added, after Davies had finished his speech. "A round of applause for Potter, who worked like a house-elf all day talking to everyone and planning everything, and who got us all moving! Stand up, Potter!"
Harry stood up embarrassedly as people cheered for him and looked around for Millicent. He spotted her against one wall with Greg and Vincent and gave her an enquiring look and a gesture to join him, but she shook her head in determined refusal. So, he just smiled his best Lockhart-smile, gave everyone a wave, and sat down again. As the Quidditch captains moved to different corners of the room and people crowded around them to sign up for try-outs and eagerly volunteer their assistance, Harry thought that while he wasn't as shy as Millicent was, he still understood a little of how she felt. He'd been happy to hand over the spot in the limelight and the organisation of the group to someone else too. What mattered was that it was happening, not who got credit for it. Or perhaps she was getting quiet credit in Slytherin circles, and that was all that was important to her. Peregrine had spontaneously come and found him like he'd already known Harry was working to get Quidditch reinstated.
It was nice to see the Houses all mixing together and working for a common cause. Over in the Ravenclaw corner with Davies, Vincent Crabbe was loudly explaining his thoughts on how they'd all forgotten about how Victor Krum went to Durmstrang and might be one of the exchange students. If that was the case, Krum would miss practising Quidditch all year – the Bulgarian team might be happy to help with some funding if their star player came on exchange to Hogwarts. Draco joined in with noises of approval and made supportive suggestions about how someone – implicitly not himself – should research that. Draco also recommended that they should also find out if the other schools had Quidditch teams and would like to have some friendly matches with the Hogwarts teams. An eager Ravenclaw volunteered to research the latter topic, then they scurried over to Johnson's table to raise that with her as a possible scheduling issue.
Draco started discussing selling 'Save Quidditch' supporter badges as a fundraising endeavour, and eager Hufflepuffs volunteered to help him make them, while Ravenclaws and Gryffindors began bickering good-naturedly over the best design and slogan. The Hogwarts squid was a preferred logo option, for some reason Harry didn't manage to overhear in the hubbub of dozens of cheerful voices. Harry hoped the rare inter-House goodwill and co-operation would last. He wandered over to Derrick's table, ready to do what he could to help too. Hopefully he could get some tips on the best way to phrase his letter to the Appleby Arrow's manager.
