"Longbottom, you couldn't catch a Quaffle if it was a half inch from your face!" The morning of May 12 for the Slytherins and Gryffindors held flying lessons. A subject Mark loved, but had to feign being terrible at.
The Slytherins roared with laughter at Draco's cruel reamark. Mark urged blood to rush up his cheecks, so that he may appear embarrassed. "It's okay, Neville." Harry Potter patted him on the back. "Draco's just...jealous."
Mark chuckled inwardly at the irony. If Draco could know about what Mark was truly capable of--a hex that would probably have Draco in bed for a month at the least--he most likely would be jealous. Yet that was not Neville Longbottom. It was Mark Schultz, and Neville was who he was right now.
Flying lessons went well. Lunch was also fine, with the usual acts of clumsiness, the usual spilled puddings and dropped goblets. It was fun hanging out with Harry and his friends, but it was also duty. Afterwards Mark felt his wrist vibrating. He told Harry he'd forgotten something in his dormitory--a very believable excuse--and rushed up.
Misu wouldn't let him talk. She mentioned having something very important to tell him, and to meet at midnight. Mark agreed reluctantly. He'd been looking forward to a good night's sleep for once.
He dashed back down for double potions. He made sure to sit in the very back middle desk, putting his potions book at a lopsided angle over his herbs and fungi book.
Amy sat down at the desk right next to him. Mark tapped his left foot three times, paused and then another two. Amy barely nodded. Mark relaxed, task finished. He was about to think over what careless mistakes he could make that potions lesson when Draco Malfoy sat down in front of Amy, giving her a charming smirk. Amy smiled back. Mark knew the smile must be fake.
After dinner that night everyone headed up to the common room, most deciding to sit by the fire and talk or read. Harry was with his friends and appeared safe, so Mark decided to head up to his dormitory to catch a little sleep before midnight.
He fell asleep fairly quickly and dozed without any dreams until about 11:00, when the usual dream kicked in.
"Okay, diversionary tactics." It was Oliver Wood speaking, the old Gryffindor quidditch captain. "Make sure you watch Marcus Flint. If he cheats try as hard as you can to get to the referee. And Malfoy will be tricky too. We all know he's a hopeless richboy, but he may be a cheater too. Try to play on the fact that he's new."
Mark sat in the stands nearby, listening to them talk. It was his second year. He knew he had what it took to be on the team, and the guts and smarts. Yet he couldn't try out and make it. After his show at the first flying lesson, though it did get Harry on the quidditch team, there was no believable way he could get on without betraying himself.
Yet he could watch. Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off to the center of the field to start. The shrill cry of Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the air as the game began. Everywhere Harry zoomed, and Mark saw the Snitch flutter by, far below most of the players, several times.
There it was. The Rogue Bludger, zooming straight for Harry despite Fred and George's deflects. "Harry!" Mark almost yelled, but hesitated because it wouldn't play out his role. "BAM!" Harry was down. Mediwizards...potions...Proffessor Lockhart...they all zoomed by and the removing of Harry's arm bones flashed in a blur.
Mark felt terrible. He'd been more concerned about playing his role, the role of Neville Longbottom, then in perhaps saving Harry's life. Later he found out a house elf named Dobby had enchanted the bludger...but house-elves were not experienced in magic...the bludger could've gone wrong and hurt Harry badly. His training at the academy...it'd been for times like this...
He awakened groggily. His alarm told him upon touch that it was 30 minutes until midnight. Mark slipped into his invisibility cloak and grabbed his wand. Time for a meeting.