The latest drama in the wizarding world lent an air of oppression to the castle, the Great Hall in particular. Meal times were short and subdued, the sounds of cutlery audible throughout the hall. The Gryffindors, predictably, tried to make things unpleasant for the Slytherins. The other two houses were little better, although they at least refrained from attacking lone Slytherins in the corridors. Inside Slytherin, things had shifted as well. Some of the older students had started having frequent meetings in the common room, protected by muffliato spells of course. These seniors would give each other supposedly subtle nods and looks in passing, and the number of them in these meetings gradually increased. Nott, while of no interest to the seniors, had become unbearably smug and even more arrogant than Harry thought possible. Draco had advised Harry to keep his head down and stick to the shadows after receiving the same instruction from his father. Harry found all of it a little dramatic at first - this was just a school after all - but many of the other Slytherins, the younger years in particular, were avoiding the common room too. Draco convinced him that the breakout was significant not only because the convicted Death eaters were dangerous, but rather because it strongly suggested that the Dark Lord was back. The weight of this mini-revelation was difficult to bear.
Harry didn't know exactly what this change meant for the wizarding world, his present, or his future, but he took some comfort from the fact that as a second year half-blood Slytherin with nothing to offer the Dark Lord and nothing to draw his attention, he would probably remain unscathed. He was quite happy to stick to his room as much as possible, only leaving for meals, classes, and Quidditch training. For the first month of the year, everyone who was eligible and talented enough to potentially make the cut had to practice together and push through the strict physical training schedule. There was no competition for the keeper position this year, and very little competition for the beater positions, with Crabbe and Goyle the only two challenging Derrick and Bole, and very unlikely to usurp the older, more experienced duo. Likewise, Higgs had graduated, leaving the position of seeker wide open. Nott, having realised that he wouldn't make the cut as a chaser against Flint, Pucey, Montague, Warrington and Harry, had decided to take on Malfoy and Urquhart instead. Personally, Harry thought Nott was just embarrassing himself but somehow Nott truly believed he would make the team based on his continued taunts aimed at Malfoy. Harry was briefly tempted to try for seeker too, but decided he preferred the constant action as a chaser after trying out as seeker in one of the practices. Besides, he would have needed to get a new broom for this position and it probably would have risked the only potential alliance he had in Slytherin at the time based on the cold shoulder he got from Draco following his "betrayal". Draco "forgave" Harry as soon as he went back to the chaser position, but Harry wasn't completely sure what would have happened to their fledgling alliance/friendship if he had won the spot as seeker.
Flint, as the existing captain and as big and ruthless and admittedly talented as he was, was guaranteed his spot, and Pucey had performed and developed exceptionally well last year so Harry couldn't see him not making the cut. Between Warrington and Montague, Harry felt that Warrington was the bigger threat, based on talent but also based on his fit with the rest of the potential chasers. While Warrington, Montague and Pucey were all fourth years, Montague was a bit of an outsider in his year group, although he did get along quite well with the fifth years in the squad, namely Derrick and Bole. While there was extremely limited social interaction between Harry and the older Slytherin hopefuls, he had a knack for always being right where he needed to be just at the right moments, so he wasn't worried about how he meshed with the team on the pitch. He was, however, a little worried about the suitability of his broom. Everyone had been appropriately awed by it at first, but it was not an easy broom to fly, so it presented both pros and cons. Harry was certain that learning on this broom instead of amateur brooms would ultimately help him to be better than the others at Hogwarts, but he also admitted to himself that he didn't want the purchase to have been a mistake. In terms of speed, without the acceleration restrictions designed to protect amateur players, Harry was able to tear away from the others with ease now and it definitely gave him an advantage when it came to the speed of his attempts at scoring. However, his defence became a weakness as soon as the others realised how difficult it was to control his broom through rapid changes of direction. Flint was undecided about it even after four weeks of constant evaluation. Harry felt that he was improving rapidly and that he had far more potential than Warrington or Montague, but in the end, Flint decided that it was too close to call and it all came down to one final mock match situation.
Montague had been given the reserve chaser spot, with Warrington and Harry fighting for the open spot alongside Pucey and Flint, just as Harry had suspected. Derrick and Bole had comfortably retained their positions, as had Bletchley without any competition. Malfoy had embarrassed Nott after Flint took the easy way out to avoid upsetting Nott's family by declaring that the seeker who caught the most snitches in one final competition would win their place on the team. Nott and Malfoy committed repeated fouls on each other, but in the end Draco caught four snitches in a row. Nott was unimpressed to the say the least, "This is a disgrace, Malfoy cheated! He grabbed my broom, deliberately and repeatedly punched me, cast something on the snitches! This is ridiculous! Lucius is bribing people again, can't you see? All the Malfoys are cowardly, lying, cheating pretenders. A bunch of weakling, pathetic, useless wastes of magic! And I will prove it! Tomorrow! Malfoy, try not to wet yourself, but I am going to show you your place and rip your guts out in front of everyone. Tomorrow in the duelling pits. I will show everyone how weak you really are!" After his rant, Nott stormed back to the castle in a spitting rage, face red, nearly frothing at the mouth. Harry worried about that duel, but Draco was almost crying with laughter. Harry wondered what Lucius would think about Draco's attempts to stick to the shadows, but Draco clearly felt that it didn't apply to Quidditch or Nott.
Harry's final trial was a series of five runs each of two on two, where Harry and Warrington would have turns partnering with Pucey on attack while the other partnered with Flint on defence to see who scored the most out of the ten attempts they had. Flint promised that the one with the higher score would win the position while the other would join as a reserve.
Harry had started off on defence and it hadn't gone particularly well. Bletchley was a good keeper so Harry initially couldn't understand how he had left the right side hoop so open on the first run through. Flint had blocked Pucey effectively and Warrington had deliberately stayed close so the pass to him was short, removing Harry's chances of an intercept but giving himself less space to manoeuvre for a good shot. Harry hadn't quite managed to effectively prevent Warrington from getting the good shot off, but that shouldn't have mattered since the natural instinct for self-preservation in close, high risk flight like this meant that the shot was based primarily on arm speed and very little on broom speed. Bletchley should easily have been able to protect all three hoops, and yet…Harry's heart sank as he saw the smirk on Warrington's face. On the next run, Warrington had flown close to Pucey again, and Harry was determined to ruin any shot on goals this time, or at least make sure Warrington took the shot while stationary without any forward momentum.
Instead, Warrington had taken the shot early, from a distance that again should have been easy for Bletchley to deal with, and somehow the idiot keeper had pretended to completely misjudge the situation and the arc of the shot, flying aggressively forward to supposedly prevent Pucey from collecting the quaffle and redirecting it to the hoops but not thinking the shot was actually cleverly aimed at the goals from the start. Harry was fuming!
For the third run, Warrington got the pass early again, but still late enough to remove Flint from the equation. He tried to throw the quaffle at the goals with real broom and arm speed this time, but his shot was based on the assumption that Harry would have to duck or risk taking a hit to the head followed by an almost certain collision between the two of them on their brooms, fifty meters from the ground. Harry, already seeing red over the injustice of the previous two shots and itching for a chance to get some revenge, largely ignored the quaffle and instead positioned himself to slam his shoulder into the older boy's face if he didn't change his course. Warrington clearly hadn't expected this, and his shot deflected off the side of Harry's head gear, missing the goals, and was followed by Harry's shoulder being driven into his ribs as he tried to swerve at the last moment. Warrington had cried out and just barely kept his grip on his broom. The beaters, who had been stationed below in case things like this happened, quickly raced towards Warrington to make sure he was okay. Warrington was now also fuming, and swore at Harry who smirked back before flying off to his starting position.
Warrington was clearly in significant pain but his anger fuelled him to quickly return to his position and take another run at Harry. At this point, Harry knew exactly what Warrington was planning, but Flint knew too, and managed to intercept just as Warrington called for Pucey's pass. Warrington's fourth attempt was completely ruined and left him in an even bigger rage, but he also knew that he needed to make the most of the last shot. For his fifth run, he managed to bury his desire for revenge for the moment, and instead called for an unexpected switch pass at the last second. Harry was left on the wrong side of Flint as Warrington flew below Flint and came up in clear air with an open shot on Flint's other side. This shot was genuine, and Harry could understand that Bletchley was unable to save it. Warrington had scored three times, Harry would need four goals to make the team.
For Harry's first run, his plan was to power through Bletchley's hands and make sure he was too scared to keep his body behind the shots that followed. He took the quaffle very early and flew high, drawing both Flint and Warrington up towards him then realising that they had formed a bit of a wall and that Bletchley had moved up too. He realised the mistake and thought it was too late to recover but then remembered that he wasn't the only attacking chaser, and drew the two defenders and the keeper slightly further from their positions before screaming, "Pucey, take the shot!". Harry dropped the quaffle so Pucey would have to build forward momentum, catch the quaffle and take a shot with solid odds of success. Pucey's training kicked in and his pride drove him to make a good shot, easily getting the shot past the surprised keeper. Warrington complained, Flint commended Harry for the move and declared that goal counted.
Harry repeated the move on the second run, and this time only Warrington followed, which is what Harry had hoped for. He built up some serious speed, and then aimed back directly towards the goals. He used all his strength and will and threw the quaffle from slightly further back than Warrington expected. Warrington flinched but the quaffle would have missed him anyway. Bletchley tried to stop the quaffle, but as expected, he didn't keep his body behind a shot with this kind of pace on it. It slipped through his hands and through the centre hoop and Harry had scored again! Warrington swore at Bletchley who swore right back at him while complaining about his useless keeper's gloves and Harry's ridiculous broom. Flint flew up to Harry, gave him an awed look and almost shouted in his excitement, "You've been holding out on me, Potter! Why haven't you thrown that hard before? That was unbelievable!" Harry just shrugged, also slightly surprised by the speed, until he remembered the strange occurrences on the cricket pitch before he joined the wizarding world. He smirked to himself as he moved back into position.
On his third run, Harry dummied Warrington, pretending to take the shot from far out and aiming "through" him, causing Warrington to duck again, but Harry didn't release, instead he flew right past him and took the shot with awesome pace again, and this time he willed with everything he had, and his arm and the quaffle moved even faster than before. Impossibly fast for a student, many would say. Bletchley pulled his hands away from the quaffle rather than stopping it and removed his keeper's gloves as Warrington flew up to him and starting shouting at him. Bletchley threw one of the gloves at Warrington and Flint broke up the fight before it got out of hand. He told Warrington he was on the reserve team and flew back to Harry with a wide grin, "Welcome to the team, Potter! This season is going to be incredible." Harry smiled as he shook Flint's hand and thought to himself 'maybe I will play quidditch for England!'
Draco and his new teammates congratulated him, even Bletchley apologised, "Sorry about my errors there, Potter. We're all good now though. We will call it even considering what you did to my hands and gloves. Look at them, I'll have to get Pansy to rub something on them, what do you think, Draco?"
Draco punched him in the shoulder and everyone laughed. Harry didn't quite forgive Bletchley but right now he was just so happy and he guessed he understood that Bletchley wanted his friend on the team instead of him.
Flint added his two sickles, "You need better gloves, Bletchley. Either that or you really need to man up. It's probably a bit of both. Don't worry though, I'll look after Pansy in the meantime."
Harry noticed Malfoy starting to lose his cool so he jumped in, "I wonder what that Gryffindor keeper will do. I swear he thinks that quidditch play book of his is his girlfriend. You reckon he has decent gloves?"
Flint smirked wickedly, "If he does, I think they will have to go missing just before the game. Let's see how he copes with Potter's wicked arm when he has to use the school gloves! Potter will annihilate him!" The whole team laughed at the thought and Harry loved the praise and the feeling of being part of something bigger, even if his team mates weren't what he would call friends. He had missed this feeling, that of being wanted and that he belonged. He promised himself that he wouldn't let them down. The team hit the changing rooms and returned to the common room in great spirits.
Just as they got entered the castle, they ran into the Weasley twins and some other Gryffindors. Harry had heard all about these Weasleys, about how they targeted Slytherins and how they bullied the younger years relentlessly, always being favoured by McGonagall instead of getting into real trouble. "What do we-", "-have here, Forge?" "A bunch of-", "slimy-", "cheating-", "moldyshorts worshipping-", "Slytherins" the twins spat. "No other reason-", "for them to be-", "so happy, unless-", "they really are-", "glad that their", "death eater-", "murderous-", "parents-", "escaped from-", "where they belong-", "right, Gred?"
The Gryffindors all had their wands out and ready, just as professor Snape rounded the corner. "Detention, Weasleys! Weasley on the right, you report to Filtch tonight. Other Weasley, you will report to Filtch tomorrow. And 30 points from Gryffindor for deliberately antagonising innocent students and threating them at wand point. Now get out of my sight, all of you!"
The Slytherins sniggered as the Gryffindor's expressions soured. Both Weasleys rapidly became red faced and visibly fought to hold their tempers in check, seemingly ready to attack professor Snape! The rest of the Gryffindors dragged them away while the Slytherins openly laughed at the situation. Snape nodded at the Slytherins and signalled for Flint to follow him to his office while the rest of the team laughed their way back to the common room in peace.
The common room warmed slightly as the rest of Slytherin was called together for the introduction of the new quidditch team and a small party. Nott apparently couldn't deal with this, and childishly overturned a snack table and left for his room before slamming the door. Malfoy laughed, "As you can see, everyone, Nott is not taking this news very well, but just wait until we bring you the Quidditch Cup again!"
Most of the common room cheered and Malfoy soaked it in. Daphne, Tracey and Harry's other year mates all politely congratulated him, well, except for Pansy who had immediately latched onto Malfoy's arm. Tracey teased, "Well done, Potter. Personally, I'm not prepared to be paraded on your arm, but perhaps Daphne would be interested?"
Daphne gave Tracey a frosty look, flipped her hair and said, "Good luck, Potter. Don't let us down." Then she moved on to get some snacks, a smirking Tracey in her wake.
The next half hour was full of many short handshakes and introductions, and then the evidence of the party was cleared and Slytherin seemed to return to normal again. Harry definitely felt more comfortable with the volume back to hushed levels and with more space to breathe and relax, but part of him did wish Slytherin's default wasn't always so cold.
(-)
The next evening, as Harry had feared, Malfoy was overconfident at the start of the duel, despite Harry's repeated warnings. Nott had a lot of anger to work through, partially due to his own embarrassing behaviour, and partially because he always seemed irrationally angry these days. He demolished an overconfident Draco, ruthlessly sending him to the hospital wing with some questionable curses that kept flowing even after Draco was clearly out of the fight. He had to be disarmed by a senior after the third unnecessary spell slammed into Draco's downed form, while a prefect rushed to Draco to try undo some of the damage before rushing him away. Once curse in particular had caused an intake of breath from certain older Slytherins and Nott's eyes seemed slightly hazy for at least ten seconds after the spell before he regained what counted as composure these days for someone like Theodore Nott.
Nott had then proceeded to challenge Harry to a duel, scheduled for the next evening. Harry was looking forward to this duel and putting Nott in his place. He highly doubted that Nott had figured out how to beat his transfiguration of the air in the lungs trick. Harry couldn't believe how incredible and effective this trick was. It wouldn't work for many wizards since the wand motion would ordinarily provide the warning the opponent needed, but in his case, there was no warning and his transfiguration was lightning fast. He probably plans to attack especially violently and force me to shield, but even then I can just dodge one of the spells and put him down while I dodge.
(-)
Harry was less alert than he normally would have been, lost in his thoughts, and now admittedly a little concerned about tomorrow's duel. He was presently returning from the library after researching what turned out to be the blood boiling curse. That spell could have killed Malfoy if the senior hadn't countered it quickly. The book cautioned the reader about the effects of dark magic, which sounded a lot like the effects of potent drugs. Harry might not have believed the book's words of caution if he hadn't seen that look in Nott's eyes and wondered about some of his behaviour this year.
The castle was silent, eerily so, but that was quite normal these days. He heard a slight scraping noise that broke him from his thoughts. He stopped, wand out, slightly crouched, waiting. Silence, save for the faint crackling of the torches on the walls and a gentle breeze moving through the corridor. Harry continued, his footsteps echoing loudly and his heart beat accelerating. He glanced over his shoulder and stopped in shock, the corridor had closed in twenty meters behind him. The torches closest to that section suddenly blinked out. A few seconds later, the next torch went out. Harry ran in the opposite direction, but within a few steps he had tripped and fallen hard on the stone, bruising and scraping his knees and palms and dropping his wand in the process. He scrambled to gather his wand and turned to face his would-be attacker, but the corridor was still empty.
He lit his wand and checked for what could have tripped him, but there was nothing he could have tripped over. "Incendio!" Harry held the spell and poured power into it as he moved his wand from side to side. He heard swearing followed by "Protego" and saw the shield burst into life. Just as he readied another spell, he heard "Incarcerous!" from behind him. He dove to the side, successfully dodging the first spell before being hit by a bludgeoning curse as he attempted to dodge spell fire from both sides of the corridor.
"Lumos Maxima!" he cried while shielding his eyes and darting away from his previous position, just as further spells slammed into the space he previously occupied. He released his blinding light spell and desperately searched for an escape. He ran for the nearest door and burst into the classroom just in time. He darted to the side of the classroom, his wand trained on the entrance. When nobody immediately followed, he quickly transfigured a desk into his panther and sent it running towards the door, wishing he could see through its eyes or leave it to attack on its own. I have to get the brain right! It has to be able to fight with me, not just in my place! he thought.
"Reducto" blasted his panther to vapour.
That was not a second year. That must have been a powerful senior! Harry quickly transfigured the desks and chairs into deadly spikes and whipped his wand while whispering "Wingardium Leviosa", sending spikes flying through the door way from a better angle than he had from his position. He heard swearing but no cries of pain.
"Potter! We just want to talk." The voice was deep, definitely a senior, but Harry didn't recognise who it could be.
Just as Harry was about to reply, the senior sprinted into the room, flinging another reducto in Harry's direction before silently protecting himself with a shield much bigger than the standard protego shield, fully covering his body. The reducto missed but showered Harry with chips of stone and wood. The senior took advantage of the momentary distraction, gleefully shouted "crucio!", and Harry fell to more intense pain than anything he had ever experienced.
As Harry collapsed the floor, the spell was broken by the desks between him and this unknown senior, but Harry still gasped and twitched on the floor, unable to get to his feet or think or defend himself. The desks between Harry and the senior were sent crashing into one of the classroom walls and Harry could only watch as the senior beckoned a giddy Nott into the room. Harry had never truly hated someone until he saw Nott's expression. That hatred helped him grab his wand and slowly get to his feet. The senior quickly cast the large shield charm again and Nott hastily moved behind it, laughing as he did so.
"Oh, Potter." Nott crowed, "Pathetic, half-blood, Potter. Your little tricks won't help you tonight. Tonight you will pay for what you've done and what you are. For every mocking look, for every joke you shared with Malfoy, for daring to think you belonged in Slytherin. I should have been chaser, not a worthless half-blood like you! This is Travers, by the way. His father was just freed from Azkaban by none other than the Dark Lord himself. He comes from a line of pure bloods, not from filth like you. You need to learn to respect your betters, and we're going to help you with that. Get him again, Travers."
Travers glared at Nott for bossing him around, and Harry desperately took that moment to try to take them down. He couldn't hit them, but he could get the air around them. He didn't know enough about chemistry yet, so he just willed the air all around their shield to change into something that would put them down and help him escape.
Pointing his wand at them shook Travers into action though, and Harry was clipped by the cruciatus curse again, leaving him screaming in agony. A few seconds later, the spell was released and Harry vaguely heard someone shouting "Nott! Nott!" followed by wheezing and then retching. "Finite incantatum! Finite incantatum!"
Harry lay twitching on the floor as Nott's eyes and nose began bleeding, and a few seconds later, Traver's nose started bleeding too. Panicked, Travers ran out the door, probably trying to get to the hospital wing. Harry heard him fall in the corridor and slowly struggled to his feet to check on Nott. Each step was agony, but he had to help! Shouts and running, multiple people in the the corridor. Harry panicked. I've killed them! They tried to kill me, but I killed them! Their parents are death eaters. I've killed their heirs! The professors! They will send me to Azkaban. I can't go to Azkaban! Hide! I have to hide!
Another voice came from the corridor, "There, that door, careful, they might still be in there." Harry's heart raced, I'm going to be caught, I'm dead, wait- "Poppin!" he urgently whispered. The elf appeared in an instant and Harry hissed at her before she could ask how to help, "Poppin, quick, take me to my room." The elf obeyed just as Harry saw a wand through the classroom door.