The next morning after breakfast, Harry and Ron, still aching from the
previous night's run, made their way down to the Quidditch pitch. Ron was
nervous.
"I still wish I could use your Firebolt, Harry," he said, looking
disinterestedly at the school broom in his right hand.
Harry sighed. He had told Ron a million times already. "It wouldn't
help; you wouldn't be using a Firebolt during the games. Plus, you're not
used to it, so you might actually perform worse on it. And--"
"I know, I know," Ron interrupted resignedly, "none of the others will
be trying out on Firebolts either." They made their way onto the field and
walked over to the small group of hopeful Gryffindors gathered at the far
side. Two rather large seventh-years stood talking with a freckle-faced
sixth-year and Seamus Finnigan.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, looking around. "She said she'd meet
us here."
"I dunno."
Harry saw that the other members of the team were seated in the first
row of the stands. He wished Ron good luck and took a seat next to George.
"Right then, let's get started," Angelina called to the hopefuls. She,
Katie, and Alicia picked up their brooms and a Quaffle and walked out onto
the field. Together they kicked off from the ground and soared into the
air. It looked like fun, Harry thought; he began to grow excited about the
coming Quidditch season. After all, it had been over a year since he'd
played Quidditch at Hogwarts.
"First contestant," Katie shouted, "come on up and guard that goal." She pointed to the three goal hoops to Harry's left.
The contestants conferred briefly, and finally Bernard Skinner, one of
the seventh-year boys, flew up to the scoring area. Angelina, Katie, and
Alicia began trying to score. Bernard blocked most of their attempts to
score, but they managed to get the ball past him five times.
"He's alright," Fred said to George. "Better than I expected. He's
definitely improved since he tried out for Beater with us." He grinned.
"Yeah, he could barely keep himself from getting hit by the Bludger,
much less hit it toward another player," George agreed.
One by one, each contestant took his or her turn trying to prevent the
three Chasers from scoring. Seamus did quite well, though he wasn't as
fast as the older boys. Finally it was Ron's turn.
He looked at Harry and smiled anxiously as he kicked off from the
ground.
"Ron's pretty good," George told Harry, "but I'm not sure how he'll do
against this lot."
But to George's surprise (and, although he never would've admitted it,
Harry's), Ron was the more successful than any of the other contestants. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie were so impressed that they even attempted a
Hawkshead Attacking Formation, just to see how he would respond. The
three of them, side by side, moved menacingly toward the goal hoops. Ron
looked nervous, but he stood his ground. Finally, Angelina threw the
Quaffle toward the middle hoop--and Ron batted it out of the way just in
time.
"Brilliant, Ron!" George cried, impressed. "They only scored on him
twice! He might even give Oliver Wood a run for his money, if he were
still here."
Just then, two figures came running out onto the Quidditch pitch. One,
the brunette, ran ahead and seemed to be coaxing the other to the side of
the field where Harry, Fred, and George sat. The second, more reluctant,
figure carried a battered old broomstick and had flaming red hair that
gleamed in the sunlight.
"Hermione?" Harry mumbled.
"Ginny?" Fred and George said at once.
Hermione reached the three of them first. "We're not too late, are we? They haven't picked a Keeper yet, I mean?" Fred and George shook their
heads. "Harry," she whispered, "I've just convinced her to come and try
out, it took me all morning. You've got to let her, now I've got her all the
way down here."
"Hang on," said Fred incredulously as Ginny joined them, "you mean
she's trying out? Um, Ginny," he looked nervously at George, "I
don't think you understand. I mean, Keeper is a dangerous position to
play."
"Oh, honestly! They're all dangerous positions!" Hermione fumed. "Are
you going to let her try out or not?"
"Wait a second, is it your idea or hers? Ginny," George asked, "do you
want to try out?"
Ginny looked around and swallowed hard. "Yes," she answered.
"Hey Ginny! Hermione!" Ron and the three Chasers had just landed
nearby. "You missed it! I was brilliant! Wasn't I, Harry? Come on, admit
it." He grinned at Harry, oblivious to the fact that everyone's gaze was
focused on Ginny, not him.
"Yeah," Harry said, realizing just a bit too slowly that Ron was
speaking to him.
"Oy, you three!" called George to the Chasers. "We have another
contestant here." He pointed at Ginny. Ron's expression changed from
triumphant to puzzled. He frowned at Ginny.
Angelina looked over at her. "Well, come on then. Let's see what you
can do."
Ginny rushed out onto the field. The four of them kicked off, and Ginny
situated herself in front of the goal hoops. The three Chasers began trying
to score, slowly at first, as though they didn't expect Ginny to be able to
keep up. But, to everyone's surprise, Ginny blocked every shot they took. Finally they began to throw the Quaffle harder--and still failed to score.
"Blimey, she's fast," George whispered. "I knew she could play, but ..." His voice trailed off.
The three Chasers seemed as surprised at Ginny's performance as Fred,
George, Ron, and Harry were. They threw the Quaffle at the goals harder
and harder, still to no avail, until finally Alicia saw a perfect opportunity
to score. Ginny had placed herself just a bit too high, and Alicia threw the
ball below her and at an angle. In a flash, Ginny sped to meet the ball, but
still she couldn't reach it in time. As the spectators watched open
mouthed, she hooked her right foot around the broomstick and, still
holding onto the stick with her right hand, dropped the rest of her body
down below it, so that she was hanging off. Her fingertips caught the ball
just in time to knock it off-course. It flew just below the rim of the goal
hoop.
"Starfish and stick! Perfectly executed!" George yelled in amazement. He stood up, and Fred followed suit.
"Ginny!" Fred bellowed as she dismounted. "That was--"
"Amazing!" George interrupted. "Really. How did you ... Where did you
learn to fly like that?" They ran over to meet her on the field.
Ginny blushed. "Well, I just taught myself, mostly. Hermione helped
me practice a bit over the summer." A sheepish grin crept over her face
as she glanced at Hermione.
Hermione was beaming. "Ha! She's a natural! I told her she'd make a
perfect Keeper. What do you think, Ron, can you believe it?"
But Ron looked completely horrified. He had just been shown up at
Quidditch by his little sister.
"Hermione," he whispered hoarsely. "You ... you told her to try out? You did this?"
Hermione frowned at him. "No, Ron, that's the point--she did
this. She was brilliant! Say, what's wrong with you, anyway?"
But Ron was shaking his head as though he were trying to convince
himself it was all a bad dream.
"I'm going back to the castle," he mumbled, and swept out of the
stands, off the field, and up to the Great Hall.
"Oh, really!" Hermione exclaimed. Just then Ginny walked over to the
stands where she and Harry stood.
"They've just told me, Hermione! I'm the new Keeper!"
"Well, of course you are! See? I told you you were good!"
"Yeah, Ginny," Harry added. "That was ... awesome."
Ginny smiled at him, then looked around. "Say, where's Ron? He's the
Reserve Keeper; they'll be wanting to tell him."
"Um, he had to go back to the castle for something. We'll tell him,"
answered Hermione, glancing meaningfully at Harry. Neither of them
wanted to ruin Ginny's moment in the sun by telling her about Ron's
reaction.
Harry crawled through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common
room fifteen minutes later to find Ron sitting in a corner, dejected. Harry
walked over timidly and sat down. He didn't know what to expect from
Ron; he was moody, and Harry was afraid Ron might lash out at him. Still,
Harry spoke.
"Ron? You alright?"
"I wanted that," Ron mumbled, looking at the floor. "I really wanted it. Been thinking about it all summer."
"Well, it's alright. Hey, listen, you're the Reserve!"
This news did not alter Ron's mood. He closed his eyes, opened them
again, and looked up at Harry earnestly. "You don't understand, Harry. There's always someone better." He paused and looked down again. "Bill
and Percy were each Head Boy. They were better at school than I am. You're--" he gestured listlessly toward Harry, "you're Harry Potter. You're more popular than I am. I wanted to be good at something, just for
a little while. I wanted to be the best. And for a second I thought I was. But I'm not."
Ron looked back up at Harry. "I don't blame you, Harry. I don't even
blame Hermione--she meant well. It's nobody's fault. I guess ... I guess
there's just nothing that I'm the best at."
Harry didn't know what to say. He had seen Ron angry; he knew how to
handle that. But seeing Ron depressed was another thing altogether.
At that moment, Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the Gryffindor
Quidditch team entered the Common Room. Hermione walked determinedly
over to Harry and Ron.
"Now you listen, Ron," she began in a whisper, "this is Ginny's moment
and you are not going to ruin it for her! You always go on about how
difficult it is for you, with five older brothers--well, she's got six! Imagine how it is for her! She's--" But Ron put up a hand to stop her.
"It's alright," he mumbled. "Don't worry." He sighed. "I'd better go
congratulate her."
Putting on a cheerful mask that veiled his despondency very thinly, Ron
got up, crossed the room, and patted Ginny on the shoulder as he spoke to
her. Hermione put a finger to her lips and watched.
"Hmmm. Well, I don't reckon I handled that very well, did I? Is he very
upset?" she asked, turning to Harry.
"Yeah." Harry stood up. "He went on about how he wanted to be the
best at something, just for a little while. He took it pretty hard."
Hermione suddenly looked ashamed. "Oh," was all she said. She
watched Ron smiling at, and talking with, the Gryffindor Quidditch team
members.
Suddenly Harry had an idea. "Come on," he said to Hermione. "I think I
know something that might cheer him up. Let's see if he feels like paying
a visit to Hagrid."
