A/N: Wow, two in one night…well, like I said last chapter, my beta reader Lupin is a saint.
If you're just clicking in (how corny…oh well), then here's (most of) the story so far: Harry, Ron, and Hermione defeated Voldemort close to the end of their 7th year at Hogwarts. Sirius' innocence was declared, and Harry moved in with him for the summer before he went to Wizard University, where he is now. Hermione is still dating Krum, and Ron doesn't like that very much. Snape, to their dismay, is the DADA teacher, but he apparently made peace with them before the first class. Now, Quidditch…
Chapter 5
After getting over the initial shock of classes that day, Ron and Harry met on the Quidditch field and began to observe their competition. Ron paled as he saw several very large and very mean looking boys (and one girl) apparently practicing to be keepers. Harry paled as he saw the legions of seekers that he would have to face, and wondered how many would be trying out for the vacant spot in Tower 7.
"Hello, boys," the same angelic voice that had disturbed them the day before called from behind. Harry turned around instantly, said, "Hello, Madame Jennings," and thanked the Lord that his voice didn't crack.
"Ready to go?" she asked. Her light brown hair had been pulled into a ponytail, and she was wearing stylish red robes (red was the school color). Of course, Harry's mouth would have been nearly watering if she had been wearing a loose paper bag, but that's another story. Harry nodded, grinned, and took off, with Ron in close pursuit.
They practiced hard for quite awhile, oblivious to the fact that their stomachs were crying out for food until 7:30. As they exited the Quidditch field, Harry gave Madame Jennings a brief and slightly shy wave and a smile bordering on goofy. As soon as they were out of her sight, Ron smacked him on the back with his broom.
"Ouch, what did you do that for?" he snapped. Ron didn't answer, and Harry just glared and returned to his daydreams.
When they reached the dining hall and sat down, they had barely put food in their mouths when they heard someone say,
"So, zees are ze famous 'Arry Potter and Ron Weasley?" They looked up, mouths full of food, to view three French girls staring coolly down at them. Ron swallowed and said,
"Yes, and?" before shoving his fork back into his mouth.
"Nossing, just observing ze competition," the girl who had spoken before replied. Harry looked curiously at her blue eyes and medium brown braided hair. She was a little short and stout for a Beauxbatons girl, he decided, considering the standard 6-feet-tall- rail-thin look he had observed over the past day. Her two companions were another story; both had light brown hair and fit the look perfectly.
"Competition in what?" Ron asked, eating as he spoke.
"Quidditch of course," she answered. "We saw you practice. You are good."
"Thanks," Harry said. She glared.
"Too good," she answered. "My friends are in Tower 7; zey are a chaser and a keeper. Zere is only one slot, as you say, open for keeper." Ron raised an eyebrow; she sighed in exasperation.
"Zere are 7 teams, and 'ooever is in zeir sird year and 'as made ze team ze year before makes ze team automatically. Zere are sree years in zis school, and only one keeper graduated."
"And what are you?" Ron shot, obviously not pleased.
"I am a seeker."
"Really."
"Yes 'really,' what are you, stupid?"
"Sorry, just keeping conversation," Ron answered through a full mouth, clearly unaffected. The girl looked insulted. Harry feebly tried to repair the situation.
"What's your name?" he meekly asked.
"Michele Bender," she answered coolly.
"It's nice to meet you," Harry said, and smiled hopefully. She looked at him suspiciously and then returned the gesture.
"It iz nice to meet you too, 'Arry Potter. My friends and I should go and do our 'omework now, so I will see you tomorrow on ze Quidditch field."
"Bye," Harry said, smiling.
"Hey, can't your 'friends' talk for themselves?" Ron asked with a slightly menacing air. Michele gave him a glare worthy of an unfavorable rodent and stalked off, "friends" in tow. Harry glared at him a bit as well.
"Whot?" Ron asked, mouth full again. Harry shook his head, tapped his tray with his wand (the cafeteria made it so that this was how plates were cleaned), and walked off.
"Wait!" called Ron, grabbing a roll off his plate and running after Harry.
"Do you have to be so rude ALL the time?" Harry asked.
"Well, she wasn't exactly a can of peaches herself," Ron replied, a little irked that his friend was turning on him. True, thought Harry. She had, after all, nearly threatened him.
"Well, just try to be a little more polite next time."
Ron snorted and shoved the aforementioned roll in his mouth.
When Harry opened the door to their tower's common room (there had been some disappointment over the lack of portrait doorways), he and Ron were greeted by the sight of Hermione doing something very un-Hermione-like with Krum on the couch. They quickly pulled apart, and Hermione turned so red that one could have confused her for a tomato. Harry stifled a laugh.
"Hi," he said, quickly making his way toward the staircase. Only when he got there did he realize that Ron hadn't accompanied him; he had frozen angrily in the doorway, roll still in his mouth, and had turned almost as red as Hermione.
"What, Ron?" Hermione finally asked quietly. He just stared at her and suddenly walked haughtily toward the stairs. As he was stomping up them, Harry asked,
"You do realize that that roll is still in your mouth?" Ron hastily removed the offending lump of carbohydrates and spoke.
"What the hell was she doing?" he shouted.
"Well Ron, when a man and a woman are fond of each other—"
"She was sucking his hook-nosed face!"
"And rather enjoying it from the look of it—"
"She was snogging his eyes out!"
"Well it looked like it was limited to his mouth, maybe his neck—"
"What the hell was she doing?"
Harry realized that Ron hadn't heard a thing he had just said, and silently listened to him babble himself in circles until they had reached their room, and all throughout their homework. Finally, before they turned the lights off, Harry grabbed his broom and knocked Ron on the back with it.
"OW! What did you do that for?" he yelled. Harry glared, got into bed, turned the lights out, and rolled over. Ron got the point.
***
For Harry, the next week and a half was very busy and very involved. Despite the lack of trick stairs and moving halls there was still a new castle to learn, and the workload was bigger and more difficult than it had been in Hogwarts.
Harry loved his classes—yes, even defense against the dark arts. Snape still showed definite signs of forced indifference toward Harry and his friends, but he turned out to be a very good teacher when his field was the one he preferred.
The homework was sometimes difficult to stay awake through after his self-inflicted Quidditch practices, but as usual he managed.
Sirius, to his relief, was doing fine. He had told him that it was lonelier than it had been with him around over the summer, but he was trying to keep busy. Television was helping him. He didn't yet have a girlfriend, despite Harry's orders to get moving in that department.
Hagrid was all right as well, according to his letters. With the return of Sirius came the return of Buckbeak, and after Sirius attested to the good nature of the beast the ministry decided not to execute him after all. Hagrid had been overjoyed, but still hadn't included hippogriffs in his curriculum until after his students were in their 7th year, had a week of intensive study on the consequences of misbehaving around them, and had signed waivers. Things were going smoothly at the school; Ginny Weasley and Colin Creevy were abusing their roles as Head Girl and Boy, and the first Quidditch game would occur in a week.
However, these things were all far from Harry's mind as he polished his Lightningbolt and changed into Quidditch robes. Tryouts were beginning.
He and Ron walked tentatively out onto the field, unsure of where to go or what to do. Ron had the added obstacle of being upset, due to the fact that he had provoked Hermione into fighting with him over her public display of affection with Krum yet again. As one can assume, it had been a very rough week in the Ron-Hermione relations department. Michele Bender and her two wordless and nameless friends were standing at the edge of the restless, milling crowd that had gathered. Madame Jennings and the rest of the coaches promptly stepped out onto the field, leaving them no time to think about the coming events.
They started grouping people into their desired positions. Harry said goodbye to Ron and watched him walk off with the other keepers, all of whom seemed to have three times the mass as the tall and lanky Ron, except for Michele's "friend" who, though she was the same height as Ron, was probably 1/3 of his weight. As Harry was being led off with the other seekers (Michele Bender included) he noticed Hermione in the stands and gave her a wave, which she returned.
Madame Jennings, to Harry's immense joy, was the seeking coach. She waited until everyone arrived in the seeker area and began to give directions.
"This," she began, holding up a bright blue snitch, "is a practice snitch. It behaves as a real snitch would, but it stays in a smaller area so that it's a little easier to catch." She saw that everyone comprehended. "Each of you will have a turn with the practice snitch. Line up when I call your name. Andrews, Bender, Calahan…" she read down the list, Harry a little too nervous to embellish her every word. "…Malfoy, Potter, St. Michaels, and Veloise. Andrews, you're up."
Harry lined up against the wall with the 12 other seekers all vying for the few spots offered in each tower. As he saw Andrews catch the practice snitch within 3 minutes, and Michele Bender catch it in just under 2, his stomach began to turn a little.
"So Potter, we meet again," sneered Malfoy.
Harry politely addressed him with a "Hi, Draco," and said nothing more.
"Still trying to prove your worth?" Harry didn't answer. "We're not in Hogwarts anymore, you know," he said, his voice getting more dangerous. Harry again didn't reply. "The real talent will shine once the favoring authorities are removed from the situation."
"I don't know 'oo's talent you are referring to, 'e's better zan you," Michele Bender suddenly spoke from near the front of the line. Draco looked a bit taken aback and said nothing more.
"Malfoy!" Madame Jennings called. He gave both Harry and Michele a smirk and sauntered over to where Madame Jennings was waiting. Harry's eyes would have stayed where they were for longer than necessary had Michele not shaken her head toward Draco and loudly muttered, "Leche-cul."
"What?" he asked, alarmed.
"Oh, not you. Zat Malfoy boy…zo your Weasley friend may qualify."
"No, I mean what does leche-cul mean?"
"Oh," Michele replied, reddening slightly, "Never mind."
"Potter, you're up!" Madame Jennings called. Harry's heart skipped a beat.
"Good luck, 'Arry," Michele said, smiling. He returned the gesture and went to meat his smiling, voluptuous fate.
"Take off, I'll release it as soon as you're up," she ordered.
Harry kicked off the ground and began scanning the area for a flash of blue. He saw it almost immediately and went after it as if on reflex. Before he knew it,
"0:55! I'm impressed, Potter," Madame Jennings praised. Harry grinned. It was over. He stood back in line next to Draco Malfoy.
"Really doesn't take much to excite you, does it Potter?" Malfoy sneered.
"How do you mean?" Harry asked, unable to help himself.
"Well, take Madame Mudblood Jennings over there. My father knew her family—"
"And where's your father now, Malfoy?" Harry muttered. Malfoy abruptly shut his mouth and glared at Harry so fiercely that Harry thought he could feel it penetrate the side of his head.
"Don't ever mention my father or his whereabouts in my presence—or otherwise—again, Potter," Malfoy snapped dangerously, Harry's last name being insult enough.
"Then don't ever mention 'mudbloods' in MY presence again, Malfoy," Harry spit back.
"3:52, St. Michaels. Veloise!"
Harry was relieved that both Michele and he had done better than Draco, who clocked in at 1:54. Harry hated to admit it, but Draco Malfoy presented a threat of competition now; six years of seeking had taught him something.
"Do you know what we're going to do next?" Michele asked Harry.
"Nope," Harry answered, shaking his head. The tension grew slightly as everyone watched Veloise catch the snitch in 4:45.
"Alright. Now," Madame Jennings began, ensuring that she had everyone's rapt attention, "we're going to do it again. With bludgers. Line up, same as last time."
No one spoke now; it was all observation. Andrews finished in 4:54…Lowenstein was knocked by a bludger and exceeded the time limit…so was Debussy…Malfoy caught it in 3:10. It was Harry's turn.
He quickly deduced that bludgers were much more difficult to avoid in a smaller area, and had to devote most of the eyes he would use to look for the snitch to watching their behavior. At last he saw it, dodged the ball flying toward his head, swerved to avoid the other one in his way, reached out, and…
"2:00 even, Potter. Bender!"
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he landed, and thought that this may be the only time he had ever been glad to stand next to Malfoy. Draco didn't look at him, nor did Harry glance in his direction.
Michele caught the snitch in an impressive 3:13. Veloise surprised everyone and caught it in 1:59. Barely anyone in the line moved or made a noise.
Harry looked over to where the keepers were trying out and saw that Ron was up. One of the coaches was flinging quaffles at him, and from what Harry could see he was doing a pretty good job.
"Well, now we wait for everyone else to finish so we can put everyone in a match situation. You can all have a water break," Madame Jennings announced as Veloise landed triumphantly.
Harry began to wander aimlessly toward the locker rooms, and to his surprise Michele followed.
"You are better zan I sought," she confessed almost grudgingly. Harry blinked in surprise.
"Thanks…" Harry stammered. He began to tell her that she had been good as well, but she had left in a quick walk to where the chasers were (they had finished). A glance at the sky told Harry that the keepers were descending as well, and that the team selections would probably happen quite soon. He began to jog over to where Ron had touched down.
"Ugh," Ron moaned. "I missed 6."
"You did good, he was pounding those things at you," Harry consoled. As usual Ron didn't listen. A whistle blew and everyone's heads turned toward Madam Jennings.
"Everyone get into teams. Anyone without a full team, stand over here so you can get organized; those of you left over can sub in after games have been played."
Harry and Ron immediately paired off and began looking for the five other members of their partially formed team. Two female beaters, who introduced themselves as Betty Finn and Veronica Sawyer, promptly assaulted Harry and were gladly accepted. Ron found two chasers named Alex and Eddy, and Harry found a third named Joe.
Ten minutes later, the teams were set and the games began. Harry was pleasantly surprised at the excellent quality of the two beaters; they were just as good, if not better, than Fred and George had been. Their chasers weren't well matched so they didn't seem as skilled, but that meant Ron got the chance to show off his keeping abilities. Harry caught the snitch within ten minutes and they were granted leave for a late lunch. The list would be posted the next morning at 9:00 on the locker room doors.
Harry and Ron waved at Hermione again, but as she was waiting for Viktor she motioned for them to go ahead. Harry was too tired to listen to Ron complain, but endured it anyway, all through their belated lunch, all through their studying-filled afternoon, and all through dinner. After dinner, Hermione finally emerged from her Krum world and sat down with Harry and Ron.
"Hey, Hermione," Ron said, almost, to Harry's surprise, with tenderness, "I'm sorry for being such a git this morning."
"Oh," she replied, looking shocked. Ron never apologized, except when there was something involved relating to his own personal benefit. "It's forgiven," she said, still with some suspicion. "You did well in tryouts. Barely let anything by."
"Thanks, but don't be nice," Ron answered, shaking his head.
"Ron has a problem accepting compliments," Harry laughed. "I, on the other hand, welcome and enjoy them, hint hint."
Hermione smiled and told Harry that he had also done very well.
"So, how are your classes going?" Harry asked Hermione. "I haven't heard you talk about them."
"Oh," she said, surprised. "I haven't? I thought I mentioned them all the time…wait, it's probably because I talk about them with Viktor all the time, never mind." Harry winced slightly and looked off to the side just in time to see Ron bristle. "I love my classes, my professors are even considering letting me in on the research project Dumbledore talked about; usually only very advanced second and third year students get picked, but they think I might be able to hold my own. I'm really excited about it."
"When does this happen?" Ron asked, still trying to swallow the mention of Viktor's name.
"I don't know. Whenever they decide to tell me I guess," she replied, fiddling with a necklace she was wearing. Harry noted that it looked new and deduced that Krum had probably given it to her. He was thankful at that moment that Ron was dense enough about the world around him that he didn't realize this; he didn't want to have to deal with even more complaining. Ron had been fine for the most part during the majority of Hermione's relationship with Krum, excluding when he visited or when Hermione mentioned his name. Constant Krum exposure was obviously something that Ron could not handle.
"What about you, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking up.
"It's good, you know, mostly defense against the dark arts. Snape isn't being too hard."
Hermione nodded. "And you, Ron?" she asked.
"Oh, er, well, just classes I guess. Lots of healing charms, some child psychology. No big deal."
"Oh," Hermione yawned, straightening up. "In that case, I'm off to bed. I'm dead. Goodnight, and don't worry…I'm sure you both made the tower's team."
"Night Hermione," Ron and Harry chorused, getting up themselves. Harry shook his head at Ron as they walked up the staircase.
"What?" Ron asked with annoyance.
"Don't kill yourself over it," Harry answered warningly. Ron gave Harry a look, and they turned down the dim hallway in search of their room.
***
The line outside the locker rooms was very tense the next morning when Harry and Ron arrived. Harry looked at his watch and saw that it was 8:58; there were two more minutes until the list was posted. Ron began to fidget with a napkin he had brought with him from breakfast. Harry's eyes scanned the crowd; before long he picked out Malfoy, Angelina Johnson (he would really have to go and say hi later, he noted), and Michele and friends. Michele was looking at the ground, not speaking, and Harry found himself silently hoping that she had made it.
At precisely 9:00, the entrance suddenly emitted a pure white glow; when it had subsided there was a list hanging on the heavy wooden door. The line soon dissolved and became a crowd of witches and wizards all clamoring to see if their name was listed. As Harry and Ron pushed closer, they heard choruses of "YES!" and saw sad and shocked faces, and even a few tears (all from boys, incidentally). Harry's doubts began to grow. Finally, the list was in sight; Tower 1…Tower 2…Tower 6…Tower 7: Chasers: Joe Svening, Rupert Wilson, Ezra Bennett; beaters: Betty Finn and Veronica Sawyer; keeper: Ron Weasley.
"Ron, you made it!" Harry yelled to Ron, who had gotten stuck toward the back. He heard a whoop of happiness and saw Ron literally jump for joy, then he turned his attention back to the list. Seeker…he almost couldn't bring himself to read the words, but he knew he had to move or the crowd would kill him (at the very least).
Seeker: Harry Potter
Harry felt a smile creep over his face and he practically skipped off to tell Ron of their mutual good fortune. However, he had barely reached the edge of the crowd when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
"Congratulations, 'Arry Potter," Michele said as he turned around to see who it was.
"Thanks," he answered, grinning even wider. "Did you make it?"
"Oui, I am seeker for Tower 6."
"Well, I guess I'll see you in matches then," Harry replied.
"Yes. We will—" she stopped as she saw Ron approaching. "I will see you later, 'Arry," she said, and abruptly walked off. Harry watched her as she did so and ignored Ron, who was questioning, "Why?"
Oooh! Look! A little text box that you can use to tell me what you think of the story! Know what would be cool? If you used it :) Merci beaucoup.