Harry Potter; Fifth Year Unchanging

The Tryouts; Part Two

"Ou-ou-oooo" Ron woke up with a start, smacking his head on the slopping ceiling. "What the bloody Hell- Sirius shut up your going to wake the whole house!" Sirius didn't stop howling. "You can change if you really want to leave," Ron said.

Sirius came over to him, and he was still howling. He grabbed Ron's hand in his mouth and pulled. Ron scrambled out of the bed as Sirius tugged on his hand. He wasn't biting Ron's hand hard, but it was hard enough. Sirius pulled him to the door. Ron opened it and Sirius continued to pull him down the stairs. Halfway down, he halted and howled again. Ron's heart stopped as he heard a blood-curtailing scream mingling with the dog's howls.

Ron raced down the stairs. He knew that scream anywhere. It was Ginny. He had heard her scream before, but not like this. He jumped the last three steps, almost falling, but he recovered. Sirius flew past him. Ron ran after him, running into chairs and tripping over his own feet, but he didn't fall. He reached the door to Ginny's room while Sirius was sitting outside the door howling.

Move!" Ron yelled at him. He tore the door open and burst into the room. He took in the scene quickly. Ginny was slumped in her bed, and a figure was standing over the now screaming Hermione. The figure turned to Ron as the rest of the Weasleys came pouring into the room.

In the dim light of the room, Ron saw the face of a young person standing over Hermione. Before he could place the face, the stranger was gone. As soon as he had vanished, Hermione stopped screaming. She lay on the bed, not moving. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow. Her face was pale and covered in sweat. She was staring up at the ceiling like there was actually something up there to see.

Hermione," Ron breathed. He rushed over to her. "Hermione?" He reached out to touch her, but she started to shriek and try to hit Ron.

"Don't touch me! Stay away! I don't know who you are," she screamed at the top of her lungs. All the while, she was swatting at Ron.

Ron was hurt; his best friend didn't know who he was. Ron stood there out of her reach as she continued to scream insults at him. "Hermione, its Ron. I won't hurt you."

Someone put a hand on Ron's shoulder, "Come on Ron," said Dumbledore. He guided Ron out of the room and into the kitchen, where the rest of the Weasleys were hovering around Ginny. Ginny was extremely distraught as her mother fussed over her. Molly pushed tea into her daughter's hands and wrapped her tightly in a blanket making it so she couldn't drink the tea. With tears streaming down her pale face and arms pinned to her side Ginny tried to get away from the Weasleys that had surrounded her.

"Mum I'm all right! I'm just a little shook up."

Ron knew his little sister was stronger then she looked. She had lived through being enchanted by Voldemort's sixteen-year-old memory. Sometimes Ron would hear her having a nightmare, and he would sit with her when she would wake up. Somehow she would never remember her dream or talking to him the next day though.

Ron turned to look at Hermione. She was reaching her hand out, and repeating his name. "I want to stay with her. She needs me here." Ron took a step closer to her, and she grabbed his arm. She sunk her nails into his skin causing him to flinch, but he didn't say anything.

"All right Ron, stay with her. Try to keep her clam and talk to her in a quiet voice. I'm going to contact St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, so someone can look at her," Dumbledore said as he swept out of the room. Ron sat down on the bed next to one of his best friends. Moonlight spilled into the room, and across her face, giving her a ghostly air. Her hand was like ice on his arm, and her grip loosened a bit. Ron stroked her soft hair, not knowing what to say to her.

"Hermione," he whispered to her. She looked at him, repeating her name. "Yeah, your Hermione alright. Do you know who I am, Hermione?" she stared at him not saying anything. "I'm Ron Weasley, remember me? We've been friends for about four years. And Harry, we've been his friend too." Hermione continued to stare blankly at him. It hurt Ron for Hermione not to know who he is. Ron told her about their four years at Hogwarts. He told her about all the fun they had at Quidditch games and Hogsmeade. He told her about all the good times. He of course left out all the times when they were fighting, the times they got in trouble with Snape, and the times they put themselves in danger to help Harry.

Hermione listened to his stories, but she didn't seem to know that it was her life that Ron was talking about. She seemed to believe that it was all a fairy tale. Ron had heard from his dad about how people who were under the Cruciatus Curse too long, were never the same again. This thought scared him. He didn't know how long Hermione was under the Curse, but anytime was too long.

Dumbledore came back into the room followed by a doctor from St. Mungo's. The doctor was a young wizard with glasses, and a cheerful tan face. He smiled at Ron, who didn't pay them any mind and instead continued to talk to Hermione in a low whisper.

"Ron I think you should leave so Dr. Johnson can look at Hermione," said Dumbledore.

Ron was about to protest when the doctor spoke up, "Albus, let the boy stay. The girl seems to be comforted be him being here," said the doctor gazing ever so quickly at Ron.

Dumbledore was speaking, "Ah yes. You are quite right." The two shared a look and unspoken words seemed to travel between them. The doctor nodded his head as if agreeing with something that Dumbledore had said. Ron stayed in his own little world that consisted of Hermione and himself.

"What can you do for Hermione?" Ron asked. They talked for a while, but Ron wasn't listening. He was slowly drifting off to sleep. He looked down at Hermione, who he was still holding onto. She was asleep and soon, Ron was too.

*~*~*

Harry lay awake, in the milky darkness, fingering his scar. He couldn't fall back to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see Hermione's scared face and hear her screaming. He was trying to recall everything that had happened, everything said, and every action he had made, right down to his twisted smile. He could hear what Ginny and Hermione had said to him. They both were scared by his appearance. His voice in the dream was nothing like it was now. His voice in the dream was low and hissing. He didn't think his dream had anything to do with Voldemort, at least not in the way it usually does. He hadn't been watching Voldemort doing anything. It was like he was Voldemort. He touched his scar again, relieved that it didn't hurt him. Harry was almost sure that if his scar didn't hurt he had just had a bad dream like everybody else, but try as he might, he didn't really believe it.

Harry climbed out of bed and fell to the floor in a heap. There was a tearing sound as his robes ripped "Agh! My only robe!" Harry slowly made it to his feet, and checked out the damage done to his robe. The right arm of his robe had split along the seams. He couldn't wear the robe like that, but he didn't know how to fix it. Harry dug around in his pockets.

All he found was his wand, some money, his Invisibility cloak, candy wrappers, and the hairpins that the twins gave him. He didn't know any spells that would fix rips. Harry didn't remember putting the hairpins in his pockets, but that didn't really matter. He looked at the hairpins again; maybe they would work.

It took him about five minutes before he found a way to close the hole in his sleeve.

Harry called his carpet over. "Good morning," he said to the carpet, which perked up at the sound of his voice. "Great I'm talking to a rug," he muttered to himself low enough so that the carpet couldn't hear him.

He climbed onto the carpet and it flew him to the table. Harry was surprised to see his dinner plate piled high with his favorite breakfast foods. Pancakes covered in maple syrup, eggs, porridge, and toast littered the plate. There was also a copy of The Daily Prophet. Harry read the paper as he ate.

In the Prophet there was an update about him, and how he was still missing. There was a story about dark activity going on. The article talked about five dementors missing from Azkaban and death eaters being caught, but it didn't say anything about Voldemort gaining strength.

Harry was reading the personal ads in the paper, when he finished reading about the dark arts. One sounded a lot like Professor Snape. 'I am looking for a female companion'. To Harry it sounded as though he was looking for a dog, not a date. The ad went on'' I hold a teaching position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have sleek, healthy black hair". Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice at this. He doubted that Snape ever had sleek hair. 'I finished fifth in my class'. Harry didn't doubt that. 'I have been an active supporter of the light side'. Yea right! Harry thought at that one. 'I like to read poetry'. Harry was laughing so hard he didn't hear the knock on his door.

An elf lady, the same one that had brought his dinner the other night, came into the room. "Sir, tryouts for Quidditch will be held in twenty minutes," she said as she curtsied and left the room.

Harry folded the paper back up, drank the rest of his juice, and did a quick washing charm before he grabbed his Firebolt. He left on his magic carpet. Harry flew up and down different hallways, and down stairwells without any stairs. The carpet burst through a set of French double doors to reveal the Quidditch pitch that Harry had seen last night.

The air was cold for this time of year, but the seasons were also different this far north. The air stung at Harry's eyes as he flew. He looked around. The stands that were lining the pitch were filled with witches and wizards of all ages. All of them were hoping to get a spot on the reserve team. Harry felt a surge of fear shoot through him at the thought of pushing his skills to there fullest in front of hundreds of people.

The carpet brought Harry over to a row of elves sitting behind tables. Above them was a sign telling everyone to sign up there. The first elf looked him up and down before asking him his name. When Harry told her his name, she looked him up and down again before writing his name at the top of a paper. The carpet moved down the row to the next elf. "Age?"

"Fifteen," said Harry. As he moved down the row he was asked one question from each elf. He answered them all truthfully, thinking that it wouldn't be a good idea to start his Quidditch career as a fraud. The last elf gave him a lengthy test, told him to leave his carpet with the others, and take a seat in the stands to wait for further instructions. All of this Harry did, but he had some trouble making his carpet staying with the others. One of the elves told him it didn't want to stay behind because it had become attached to him.

Harry ended up in the middle of the stands sitting between a trollish looking girl and a sniveling little kid. Harry settled in his seat. Just then he the Bulgarian Quidditch team flying around the pitch. Harry lost himself in the flying of the team and thousands of 'what ifs' about what would happen if he made the team. He wished so much that he were up there.

A movement on the ground brought his attention back to Earth. The people had overflowed onto the pitch. A short, balding man with a mustache covering his cherry face stood in the middle of the pitch. Everyone around Harry, even the littlest kids were clapping, so Harry followed their leads.

"Welcome one and all! On this fine day we, the judges and I, will be selecting seven reserve players. These players will be trained with the Bulgarian team. They will get to travel with the team, and in the misfortunate event that one of the regular players is injured and can no longer play, you will get to take over. You will be taking a test on your knowledge of the game of Quidditch, and your playing abilities. Tryouts will last two days. Today being the first day we will eliminate those of you who are not up to standers. You may begin your test now," said the short man as he left the field.

Harry could hear thousands of quills scratching away as he looked down at the test. At the top was the information he had given the elves: his name, age, broom type, and what position he wanted to play. The first part was fill-in-the-blanks. It was basic Quidditch knowledge. The questions were like how many balls were in play at all times, how many players there was, what each player does, and the purpose of each ball.

The next part was matching the balls to the players who used them. Then you had to match the moves to how you would do them. So far Harry didn't have any trouble with the test. He just wished it wasn't so long. Two pages later Harry had gotten to the part about being a Seeker and the Golden Snitch. Harry was glad that he had read and reread "Quidditch Through The Ages" so many times. The question started out easy, but then there was stuff Harry would never know if he couldn't quote the book word for word.

Harry read over the questions. Some of them were along the lines of:

1. What color is the Golden Snitch?

2. Who catches the Snitch?

The test went on like that getting harder with almost every question. It went on to ask:

52. In 1269 what bird was used before the Golden Snitch?

Harry new it was the Golden Snidget, a small magical bird. Then the test went on to ask:

53. Who introduced the bird to the game and what was the prize for catching it?

Harry didn't have to pause before he wrote down his answer: Burberus Bragge, and one hundred and fifty gold Galleons as the prize.

54. Who invented the Golden Snitch and where?

Harry knew that the Golden Snitch was invented in Godric's Hollow, by Bowman Write. The Boy Who Lived was one of the first to finish his test. When he put down his quill the test disappeared. In a few moments a small folded piece of paper appeared. Harry reached out a hand for the paper, and noticed that his hands were shaking, his stomach felt like lead, and his mind was clouded. He was nervous, but he had felt worse. Harry had been even more nervous when he had to do things that he had never wanted to do. This was a different feeling then facing Voldemort, or a dragon that wanted to kill him though. This feeling was the 'I'm going to win, I know it' feeling.

Harry unfolded the paper to see his name and a percentage scrawled in tight, yet loopy red letters. Harry had gotten a 108% on his test due to the extra credit questions. His nerves settled a bit. Around him more and more people were looking over their test grades. Some of the little kids were upset for some reason. The older ones, who were so sure of themselves, were getting enraged that they had gotten such low-test scores.

Harry had gotten used to the idea of people judging him, but today seemed different, uneasy almost. Harry knew that what ever happened today would shape the rest of his life. If he got a spot on the team, he would probably never go back to Hogwarts. He would transfer to Durmstrang to finish his schooling. Even if he didn't get a spot on the team, he might stay anyway.

Harry sat in a daze, thinking about how wonderful it would be to make the team; he didn't care that it would only be the reserve team. He could see it now: Krum being taken out for the season and Harry, himself leading the team to the World Cup, where they would declare that Harry is to replace Krum forever. He could almost feel himself shoot onto the pitch with his team robes on. He could hear the commenter of the game yell out his name, and the crowd thunder their approval as he flies over to his teammates on the best broom ever made.

Harry was snapped back to the present when the short man cam back to stand in front of the crowd of Quidditch hopefuls. He started to speak to the waiting crowd. "Now that everyone is done with their test, I would like to take this time to introduce the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchancv! Volkov! Aaaaand- Krum!" After each named was called, a scarlet clad figure flew around the stands to a roar of approval.

"Everyone should have gotten a slip of paper with your test scores on it," he continued when the crowd of people had settled down. "If you have a piece of paper with a test grade lower then a seventy, or if your paper says that you are to young or too old, I ask of you now to leave the stands. You are welcome to sit in the empty seats across the pitch if you would like to watch."

Hundreds of feet took the weight of their owners and left the stands. Many younger kids were having fits as they left. Harry stayed in his seat, waiting for instructions, while trying to relax and breath.

When the stands were quiet once more, the man cleared his throat, "All of you who are still here, I congratulate you on a job well down!" he started clapping and soon everyone joined in and gave great praise to the people next to them. "Yes it was truly a job well done!" he shouted while grinning at everyone. "I would like you all to stand up, because I'm going to put you in order of your playing position and your test scores. I would like the Seekers in the first rows of seats, then the Chasers. Behind them I would like the Beaters, and lastly the Keepers. There are name tags in order of testing grade."

The remaining people took to their feet and moved to the pathways to move up or down in the stands. Harry headed towards the front of the stands. It was very slow moving with people pushing to go up and down. Harry had to push through a pack of Beaters, only to come face to face with Fred and George. The three stared at each other. No one moved or said anything. Harry could see another redheaded figure moving through the mass of people. Bill Weasley made it to them.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" Bill asked.

"Um... Hi, lovely day, isn't it? Good luck on the tryouts. I've got to go sit down." Harry started to go around them when Fred grabbed his arm.

"Hermione is hurt, Harry," Fred said. Harry looked at him. He could see pain in Fred's eyes, and he could hear desperation in his voice. There was also something else in his voice that made Harry think about what he had said to Hermione at the party. Fred's voice was laced with bitterness, so Harry thought it meant he was mad at him.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, deciding to change the subject.

"He was going to come. He was going to try out for Keeper. We had this planned for a few weeks. He went to the hospital with Hermione, Ginny, and mum. He found Hermione upset last night, and he refused to leave her," said George looking down at his feet.

The people behind them started to push, trying to get pass them. Harry let the mob of people sweep him away from the Weasleys. An inner battle was raging in his head and heart. Half of him wanted to go back right now to see hold onto Hermione and see how she was doing. He hated to know that she was hurt. He wanted to beg her to forgive him. He wanted to tell her how stupid he was and that she was right. The other half of him was scared that she wouldn't take his apologies, but that wasn't the only thing keeping him away. That part of him didn't even want to apologize to her. Then there was the idea that Ron and the other Weasleys would hate him. Harry knew how protective Ron could be with Hermione. Those little fears were enough to keep Harry away. It was enough to make him not want to face the people he had hurt. There was also the looming fear of Voldemort attacking. In Harry's head, if Voldemort didn't know where he was then maybe he wouldn't come after him.

Harry flopped into his seat, his head aching. He was going to be one of the first people to fly, but he was ready for anything. He had faced so much on a broom. He was sure he could do whatever they wanted him to do. That was if his nerves would calm down.

Eight people and one empty seat were in front of Harry. He watched them dive, chase after bewitched golf balls, and dodge Bludgers that pelted at their heads. Each person was asked do something different as they flew around the pitch. When they landed the people in the stands cheered them on. Six of the eight people were out of the running, due to big mistakes or poor flying. They were asked to leave the pitch and watch with the spectators.

Sooner then Harry had expected his name was called. He quickly picked up his Firebolt, and made his way on to the pitch. Harry noticed that everybody was trying to get a look at him, and the whispering burst through the crowd, pushing in on Harry as a dull buzz.

"Ah young Harry Potter, glad to see you here. I've heard about your flying skills. Let's see if they are what people say they are," the man said as his voice floated up to the crowd. The crowd was going wild at the thought of Harry doing something deadly in front of them.

"I want you to fly up fifty feet into the air in line with the goals. Then I want you to find this golf ball," he held out his hand revealing a golf ball the same color as the grass that Harry was standing on. "I will also be releasing about twenty other golf balls. Do you think you can do that? Good. Mount your broom and on my whistle you can go."

Harry mounted his broom, not seeing how he could ever do this. He had the feeling that he was going to make a prat out of himself. The whistle blew and Harry took off. He flew higher and higher circling the pitch looking for the golf ball. Looking at the pinpricks of color below him he didn't see any green balls. He saw yellow, red, bright pink and orange, but no green.

Harry looked towards the stands. He scanned them until he saw three redheaded Weasleys grinning up at him. They waved and Harry grinned back. Bill pulled out his wand. He looked around before he changed his robes to yellow. He changed George's robes red and Fred's to green. Then he gave Harry the thumbs up and a Weasley grin. Harry looked at Bill, and so did the twins, not seeing why he had to change the colors of their robes.

Harry looked at the ground and saw a Yellow golf ball, then a blank spot and then a red golf ball. Harry looked back to the Weasleys, and he realized what Bill was trying to tell him. Harry grinned at them and then pointed his broom down. He sped towards the yellow golf ball. He had the broom pointed straight down. Many gasps came from the watching people as he plummeted to the earth. Harry never took his eyes off the golf ball. He was getting closer. The wind stung his eyes, but he couldn't close them, in fear of loosing the golf ball. He was thirty feet, twenty, ten feet, and then two Bludgers flew at him. Harry flew to the side rolling over to avoid being pelted in the stomach by them.

He pointed his broom downward again. He was ten feet away from the ground and didn't see the green golf ball. The wind rushed threw his hair, pushing it from his face. Harry took one hand of the broom, and the handle shook with speed. He was four feet from the ground when he saw the green golf ball hovering two feet above the ground. He stretched his fingers out. They brushed against the surface of a ball. He groped the air until he found it. Closing his hand around the ball, he thrusted his hand up in the air.

Harry looked at his arm, and saw a sliver of green between his fingers. Harry heard the crowd gasp. He was still plummeting towards the ground. Harry tucked his feet up under himself and pulled up on the broom. His toes just barley skimmed the grass. He flew straight with the ground before he was able to soar back up. His broom started to shake again with the sudden change of direction. He had to fight it with one hand, trying to get control.

He could hear the Weasleys yelling and hooting from the crowd, as he flew up and up with his hand still high above his head. Harry gave a loud whoop when he was fifty feet above the ground again. He flew over the stands before he landed right in front of the judges to give them the golf ball.

"Keep it kid," said one of the judges. Harry tucked the golf ball into on of his robe's pockets. With his broom in hand and a wide grin stuck on his face he made his way back to the stands. The stands were quivering with people jumping up and down.

Harry flopped into his seat. His legs were moving on their own, shaking up and down, and he was glad he didn't have to hold himself up any longer. As soon as he sat down a girl to the right of him swooped down on him.

"You were wonderful," she said. She then kissed him on check. "I wish I could fly like that. Oh look they're giving out your score." The judges gave him a perfect score. The girl tried to kiss him again, but Harry ducked out of her reach. His check burned red where her lips had touched his skin.

"Very well done Mr. Potter. You have beaten Mr. Krum's record when he did that three years ago," the man looked positively delighted at the thought of Harry beating a record. Nobody had noticed the help he had gotten from the Weasleys.

Harry lay back in his chair, closing his eyes. He dropped of into a light sleep. A sleep filled with light peaceful dreams. Harry woke with a start when he heard someone screaming. His first thought was that of Hermione. Harry looked around startled, and he saw everyone pointing at the pitch. Harry looked where they were pointing and saw the girl that had kissed him falling. Harry knew she was going to hit the ground.

Her top of the line Cleansweep broom was pointed straight down, but she had no control. She was starting to slip of the front. The handle under her hands was vibrating,

Harry could see her fighting with it while trying to stay on. She was a good twenty feet from the ground. Her robes were flying out behind her, and so was her long cinnamon hair.

The broom quivered, making her lose the grip she had with her feet. She flew over the broom, like you would go over the handle bars of a bike, just holding on with one hand. A foot from the ground she looked away from the hard cold ground. She looked past the midiwizards running towards her, and looked straight at Harry. Their eyes connected for a second before she hit the earth head on. With a sickening crack her broom spilt in half.

Harry looked were her eyes use to be, not wanting to see her lying motionless on the ground. The stands were quiet. The world had stopped for a moment, holding its breath, waiting for a sign to continue. Harry looked down at the girl lying in a heap, and the world shuddered and started again. People started to yell and the midiwizards went to work. The only to people who didn't move was Harry and the girl. He couldn't take his eyes off her as she was taken out of the pitch on a floating stretcher. Harry did manage to stand up and applaud for her. He had seen people on TV do this when someone in a game got hurt and had to be taken off the field. Soon everyone around Harry was standing, and clapping for her.

The tryouts continued, but Harry couldn't think of anything but her pale brown eyes. Her eyes had bored into him, almost like she was trying to tell him not to forget her. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he couldn't. Her cries and Hermione's screams mingled together not letting him relax. Harry spent the time staring blankly at the sky, not watching what was going on around him.

At noon the Seekers and the Chasers had all gone. Tables appeared in front of everyone, fully laid out with fine dishes, and platters full of food. Harry pilled his plate high with food and ate greedily.

He ate in silence like so many other people. A boy a little older then Harry turned towards Harry like he was going to say something, but then he decided against it. Harry ate until he couldn't eat any more. The dishes and the table disappeared when everyone was done, making him homesick for Hogwarts.

The tryouts started again. The Beaters went first. They went in pairs using bats that the judges gave them. They had to defend four large fake birds from Bludgers. There wasn't just two Bludgers; they flew around so fast that you couldn't count them. There were also seven other fake birds that the Beaters had to hit at, just like if they were the other team. Harry got slightly sick watching the Bludgers fly all over the place. The first four teams were eliminated due to the blows that the birds they were defending got. One team had even protected the wrong group of birds. Then it was the Weasley twins' turn.

They flew after the bewitched birds with their bats raised. They hit Bludgers every which way; not letting any of the Bludgers hit their team of birds. Three Bludgers came flying at the bird that was labeled Seeker. George flew towards the bird.

He belted one of the Bludgers towards the other teams Seeker, but he had no time to hit the other two Bludgers that were flying at the bird one behind the other. George flew in front of the bird. "Ophf!" George gasped as the two Bludgers collided with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The crowd gave a cry, but George reassured them by swing his bat above his head.

For the rest of the time nothing touched the birds, but Fred and George did have a number of close calls. Harry watched the judges talking amongst themselves. The head of the judges, the man who had done all the talking so far, stood up. He waved his wand and said something that Harry couldn't hear, and the Bludgers all flew back to the waiting crates. He waved his wand again and the birds floated to the ground. Then he motioned for the twins to come back down.

They flew to the ground and the crowd erupted into applause. Harry stood up and waved to them, grinning. They waved back.

"Did ya see that Harry! Didya?" Fred bellowed to Harry.

"You were great, Fred. You too George. Nice block you did with your stomach!" Harry yelled back to them.

"Abbs of steel Harry. That's all you need!" George yelled to Harry. Fred gently punched him in the stomach. Harry could see George wince.

They made their way back up the stands. People were congratulating them as the made their way up to their seats. Bill meet them half way up. He pulled both of them into a tight hug, despite their protesting. The twins returned the embrace. The three made their way back to their seats.

Watching them, Harry felt a stab of jealousy. Bill was beaming with pride at his brothers. Fred and George were grinning, and looked happier than Harry had ever seen them. George was still clutching his stomach, but he didn't seem to mind that much.

It was late in the afternoon when the short man made his way back on the field tryouts were over and everyone was anxious as to what he was going to say. "I would like to congratulate everyone here for a job well done. Those of you still in the running are..." He read off a long list of names and what position they would be trying out for. "For the place of the Beaters, I would like to say on behalf of the other judges that Mr. Fred and George Weasley are the first members of the reserve team. The judges and I have never seen such commitment to the game. Never have we seen Beaters willing to take the hit instead of their teammates," the man announced, smiling at everyone. The stands once again erupted in chaos. Harry twisted around in his seat to see Fred and George. They were bright red, ever brighter then their hair, with Weasley pride.

Later, Harry made his way back to the Inn with the Weasleys.

"Harry, you're coming back with us," Bill said.

Harry looked at them, and they looked back at him. He didn't know how to tell them that he was staying without hurting them more. "I can't go back. I need to finish the tryouts and I-"

Fred interrupted him. "What about Hermione. She's hurt! Don't you know that? When we left, they didn't know how bad she was," Fred was going to continue, but Bill stopped him.

"Well be back here tomorrow. So stay the night if you have to, but you need to come home with us tomorrow. We wouldn't tell anyone about seeing you, but I don't promise that it wouldn't be in the paper. If mum finds out you're here, she'll come up here herself and bring you right back home. Just remember that," Bill said to Harry.

Harry nodded his head and thanked them. He watched them as they used Floo powder to get back to the Burrow after they had all said good-bye. Bill had warned him to stay out of trouble, but George told him to do just the opposite. Harry was sad to see them leave.

Harry climbed onto his carpet that had been following him for awhile now. He flew up to his room, alone. He was glad that he had come. He was sure that a chance to be on the Bulgarian team didn't come around that often. The thrill he had felt earlier had all worn off with the departure of the Weasleys.

As glad as he was that they had let him stay, guilt was knotting his stomach.