Chapter 11

"Wh-wh-what?" Harry stammers, "Are you serious?"

"Well, yeah. You must know about her, her being an auror and all."

"Well, Harry says, a little eager right now, "Do you think you'll be alright now, Neville?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Harry. You're right, I could do better, I guess I just got to try a little harder, it's what my parents would of wanted. Magic isn't all bad."

The two of them then head off for Transfiguration.

****

"Where were you," Ron hissed as Harry sat down next to him in the transfiguration classroom.

"Nowhere."

"U humph." Professor McGonagall clears her throat to get everyone's attention. "In this class," she begins, "We will be having another teacher present, only to observe, and help mark your work. Please welcome Mrs. Arabella Figg."

A loud rang of applause is followed, along with a few remarks.

"Wow, I've read all about you!"

"What's it like being an Auror?"

"That's quite enough," snaps Professor McGonagall. "I'd expect better behavior from you Gryffindors, especially in front of one of our Hogwarts guests. Now we are here to learn, not to gabber, so let's begin. I would like you all to take a toad from the container at the back of the class. First off, you will stun your toad, then try and transform them into a frog, so it should have no warts left, be smaller and a greener color. Then you shall turn it into an immobile chocolate frog. Let's see how far you get today."

After a wearisome class, where no one succeeded to finish it completely and perfectly, some chocolate frogs still green and warty, they stand up to leave. As Ron, Hermione, and Harry were about to step out of the classroom a voice rings out, "Harry, may I have a word?"

"You guys want to wait up a second?" Harry says, as he walks back into the classroom. "Harry, meet me in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, 7:00 tonight. We'll be continuing your lessons. For today, come alone," Mrs. Figg says. With that said, they whisk him away and he rejoins his friends in the hallway.

****

"Sorry Ron, but I got to go," Harry declares.

"Already? Come on, one more game?"

"Sorry, Ron. Maybe later," Harry replies as he grabs his books and wand as he heads down to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He hurries to the Dark Arts classroom to hear laughter filling the room.

"Er, hello?" Harry says uncertainly, rapping on the doorframe.

"Oh, sorry Harry," Lupin says, a wide smile spread on his face. Ara- er Professor Figg and I were just catching up on some old school times, that is, before we were going to start your lesson.

Harry, at first, was astounded that the two knew each other, then remembering what Neville said, figured it made sense. "So, Harry," Lupin asks, in a somewhat humorous way, "Is there anything you'd like to ask the great Arabella Figg before we begin?"

"Remus!"

Harry, taking Lupin seriously, asks a question which has been itching in his mind since the first time Harry saw Mrs. Figg at Hogwarts, remembering all the horrible times at the Durleys. A hint of anger enters his voice, as he demands, "Why didn't you, after fifteen miserable years at the Dursleys, say that you or I as a matter of fact, were a witch?"

Mrs. Figg, taken aback by the ferocity of his question, hesitates before answering, yet still managing to send a threatening stare at Lupin meaning, 'Why'd you have to ask a stupid question' before answering in a gentler tone, "Harry, you would not believe how many times I would have loved to tell you about yourself and the wizarding world, about who your parents were, and about their past. I was under strict orders though, so I couldn't."

Harry thinks about that for awhile to let its meaning soak in. "So, you knew my parents when you were at school?"

The smile slowly fading from her face, Arabella goes and sits in a nearby chair. "Well yes, I did. Not so much your father though. Lily and I had so much fun, the things we did, even though I being a few years older. We were always following James and his crew around, watching all the trouble they got into, while we sort of, left before the teachers came along."

"Well, I see where I get it from now," Harry says, in a little bit of a better mood than a few minutes before. "So what was my mom like?"

"Well, since it doesn't seem like we'll be doing much today, I suppose I could tell you, but Lupin here will have to help out a little."

"Sure thing."

"Well Harry, all through her Hogwart years, everyone was looking up to her, the best of all breed. She was great to everyone, and everyone was great to her. Generous, nice, intelligent, mischievous."

"Gorgeous," Lupin adds in. "Her long crimson hair, tall, fair ruby red lips, and the most magnificence eyes."

" The things we did together, along with the expert marauders, although I'm not quite sure the teachers knew the big parts we had in some of their pranks."

Lupin and Arabella chatter on for about another 45 minutes about their school years at Hogwarts, all revolving about what they did, most concerning Harry's mom. Then it came to the point of the story fifteen years ago, the night of Voldemort's downfall, and the death of his parents. With tears welling in Arabella's eyes, she speaks once again, "Harry, your parents were great wizards, not many like them nowadays, even if they were pranksters in their school years, they would of never done anything to hurt anyone, ever. Don't you ever forget that, or let anyone else mislead you."

Lupin goes over to comfort the now weeping Arabella and Harry silently leaves to return to the Common Room. A stir of excitement is swept over him as he enters. Everyone was crowding around the notice boards. Harry manages to push himself to the front and reads:

GRYFFINDOR TEAM QUIDDITCH TRY-OUTS

SATURDAY, 1:00

QUIDDITCH PITCH

SIGN UP HERE

By the looks of the list, it seems as though everyone from Gryffindor signed up. Saturday seemed so far away for everyone.

****

After an extremely long and anxious two days, Saturday did finally arrive before the world fell apart. At breakfast that morning, the Gryffindors were extremely fidgety; jumping up with fright and nervousness when called upon by another student. The most utensils were dropped and cups broken in this meal than in Hogwarts history, that it is believed that they deserve an award as the record holder.

As one o'clock neared, the whole of Gryffindor house heads down to the Quidditch Pitch, with the exceptions of the few who didn't sign up. Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall greet them. The students scatter into small groups to talk until they're called upon. Madame Hooch then calls the team over, and whispers them some instructions. With a slight chuckle, they walk behind all the groups. With a blow of her whistle, Madam Hooch gains everyone's complete attention. She instructs them to stand in a line. When everyone was lined up, she blows her whistle once again. At the same time, the team, standing behind them yells out "HEY!" Instantly, everyone turns around to look at them.

At that moment, the team bombards them with balls, sort of like a game of dodgeball, red and black to represent quaffles and bludgers. An innumerable number of people fall to the ground and cover their heads for cover, obviously missing the fact that this is part of their try-outs. A few stay standing, somewhat understanding what was going on. They duck for the "bludgers" and try to get in the way of the "quaffles". One dark haired third year makes a huge dive to stop a ball from hitting an unknowing student. Ron, on the other hand, jumped in front of someone who was about to catch the ball.

"Hey, Harry, catch this!" he yells as he hurls the quaffle to Harry fifty yards away, right into his cradled arms.

"Now everyone, listen up," McGonagall says over the chatter that started up after the bombardment ended, "Everyone, in a moment, you will mount your brooms and complete one full loop- Weasely I said in a moment- around the Quidditch Pitch. On the whistle then."

They all fly up and take off. Slowly, the pack begins to spread out as the dark-haired third year makes her way up to the front with Ron trailing not that far behind. Once everyone lands, McGonagall calls for everyone's attention to explain the most important part of the try-outs.

"Now, each in turn, you will fly up to the goal posts and our three chasers, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson will take five shots on you. Everyone understand? Good, now line up over there."

One by one, they fly up, and one by one, they are scored on five times each. About 30% didn't save any, 40% saved one, and the rest saved two. The line has finally almost ended, with only two contestants left, Ron and the third year girl. Ron flies up. On the whistle, the three chasers fly down the field at an intense speed and hurl the Quaffle through the air. Ron drives his broom and catches the Quaffle! In the end he saved 3 of the 5 shots. Ron flies down feeling quite pleased with himself.

Last but not least, that dark haired third year flies up, not looking the teeniest bit nervous whatsoever, her face giving a new meaning to the word determination. On the whistle, the three chasers zoom towards her, yet she doesn't move an inch. They close in on her, yet she doesn't move. Angelina releases the Quaffle and it zooms towards the goal post. It seems as though she was frozen in place and not going to make any move to stop the Quaffle. Yet at the last possible moment, she jerks forward, reaches up, grabs the Quaffle, and throws it back to an appalled Angelina, and returns to her position in lightning speed. May gasps and "whoa's" are heard from the crowd as the chasers try again. They try three more times, not succeeding to score once.

It's at this point, that Ron flies up on his broom, ignoring the now screaming McGonagall. He steals the Quaffle from Katie, as she was about to make her move.

"Hey!" yells an angry Katie

"Sorry, but you're doing it wrong!" was Ron's reply.

Ron speedily approaches the three goal posts. Her fakes to the left, to the right, fakes right, goes left and to everyone's amazement, throws the Quaflfe through the post and scores!

Cheers rang down from the pitch as he lands, punching the air in triumph. Professor McGonagall walks over to Ron and starts to give him an empty threat lecture on respect, but Ron knowing all too well that she was impressed by his performance. The team leaves to make their decision.

"Who's that dark haired girl?" Harry wonders aloud.

"She's a third year, Sara Spencer, I believe," Alicia replies.

"She's really good," Angelina remarks, " I vote for her."

"Same here," everyone replies.

"Any objections? Good. Any other matters to discuss?"

"Yeah, I've got one."

"What is it Harry?" Katie asks.

"Alicia, this is your 7th year, right?"

"Well, yes."

"Well, I say we guarantee Ron a position as Chaser next year, that was quite a show."

"Ahh, now that's the Weasely in him," George beams.

Then it was settled. The team walks over to tell McGonagall who agrees on their decision and promised to post a notice that the winners will be announced tonight at supper.

Harry walks over to an eager looking Ron. "So, how did I do? Did I make the team? Am I the new keeper?"

Harry looks over at Ron and says plainly that the results will be announced at supper.

"Oh come on, you can tell me."

"Sorry, Ron, you'll have to wait."

"You don't know, do you?"

"I might." Harry grins at his friends' disgruntled face, knowing that the wait might kill him.

As the two of them were exiting the pitch, Harry recognizes the Ravenclaw team entering. Along with many others, no doubt other housemates. Harry, wanting to see what was going on, stayed behind while Ron returned to the castle. Harry soon found out it was the Ravenclaw's try-outs. Not watching where he was going, he came face to face with the person he least likely wanted to see, even less than Malfoy- Cho Chang.

The two of them have been pretty good at avoiding each other all year, but this was inevitable. Cho just gives him a cold stare, neither uttering a word. Harry's stomach begins to lurch. As they pass, Cho mutters ever so softly, "So have you realized it was your fault, yet?

"Cho," Harry says, in a little less than a whisper, "You know I couldn't do anything about it."

" Oh sure. Potter so great, he's stood up to the Dark Lord. Don't send him to Azkaban for murder, the murderer you are. For all we know, you could have killed him yourself, no one else would know, would they? If you're so great, you could've stopped him and Cedric would still be here, but you did it and won't admit it. Or maybe you didn't actually do it, but just let it happen, or told someone to?"

"Cho, do you have any idea what it's like to be confronted by Voldemort?"

"Yeah, you get a few spells casted on you and then you run, make up this sob story and everyone believes Potter. You didn't do anything to stop it, and now Cedric's dead, now go away, I don't like staring at scum."

Harry, extremely hurt by these words, runs outside the Quidditch Pitch. There he stops, the old pang of guilt returning to him, the guilt trace that he worked hard over the summer to convince himself that it wasn't his fault, Cho's words echoing in his head. "…It was your fault… the murderer you are… killed him yourself… You didn't do anything… Cedric's dead… go away… I don't like staring at scum."

"Whoever made that stupid rhyme is wrong, words can hurt more than ever."

Harry slowly walks back to the castle, crying softly, past the lake, past the Forbidden Forest, past Hagrid's hut, and into the Entrance Hall.

"Hey, Potter," a voice drawls from behind him.

"Shutup Malfoy," he mutters, not even bothering to look up as he walks by.

A/N- I hope you like this chapter, and I'll try to get the next one up as soon as possible. Please review and tell me what you think of it. The next chapter is my favorite one of all, the best one, I think, so far. It should be a bit longer than this one. Again, I'd like to thank all my reviewers so far, it's you that makes me want to continue. Hope you enjoy! Thanks go out to my beta reader! J

Flamers Accepted

Later~didihoulio