Chapter Eight; First Impressions

The following morning Harry told Ron and Hermione the news that he'd been elected as the new captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch team over breakfast. Word spread faster than a speeding Snitch and Harry had to endure another round of applause and cheering.

Harry was also quick to inform Ron about Professor Torr's Quidditch status.

'Wow! Harry, this - this could be big! Can you image being on an International Quidditch team?' Harry grinned and nodded. Ron seemed to have forgotten his breakfast entirely, gazing up at the staff table where Professor Torr sat, chatting pleasantly with Professor Sprout. 'I mean, you've got talent, she's bound to sign you up as soon as you've finished school. Or maybe you'll be like Krum! Stay on at school, but train during the holidays!'

Hermione, though she had little interest in getting on a broomstick herself, was just as pleased at the opportunity.

'Chances like this don't often come along, Harry. Now that you're captain you're going to have to work harder than ever to impress her. It isn't all about catching the Snitch, you know. She'll want to see that you can work with the rest of the team, rather than focus on your own task.'

Indeed, the prospect of such a great career step had caught everyone's attention. Quidditch was the main topic on every table.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the table, handing out the new timetables.

Ron took one look at his and groaned.

'I don't believe it! We're still with the Slytherins for Potions and Care of Magical Creatures!' He tossed the timetable into his bag. 'Don't they ever think to swap the groups around?'

'Doesn't look like it,' Harry sighed. 'And we've got Divination to look forward to this afternoon.'

'Oh, yippee! I can hardly wait!' Ron exclaimed with fake enthusiasm, swinging his bag over his shoulder and leading them out of the Hall for Transfiguration.

*

By lunchtime, the whole school had heard the news about Harry being the new Gryffindor captain. While many people sought him out to congratulate him, the Slytherins made sneering comments of how they were sure to win back the Cup this year as the Gryffindor team was bound to fall apart under Potter's leadership.

Harry couldn't have cared less about what the Slytherins said, but everyone, including those from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, seemed to have such high expectations of him, that Harry wasn't sure if he was going to be able to live up to it. Determined all the same, Harry had pinned up a notice on the message board in the common room that morning, advertising the vacancies on the team, with the date and time of the tryout.

After lunch Ron and Harry went up to the North Tower for Divination.

'How long do you reckon it'll take her to predict your death?' Ron asked as he climbed up the silver ladder into the classroom.

'About fifteen minutes.'

'I bet ten.'

'I bet a pack of Chocolate Frogs and a Sugar Quill that you're wrong.'

'All right, you're on!'

As the class sat down, Professor Trelawney made her dramatic entrance from the shadows and gazed around at them all. Her eyes lingered on Harry for a moment, looking as though she were about to say something, but thought better of it.

'My dears, I bid you welcome and pray that the Fates favour you this day.' she said in her soft, misty voice.

Lavender and Parvati were practically spellbound, hanging on to every word.

Professor Trelawney produced a large, black, silk bag and informed the class that the entire year was to be devoted to the reading of Tarot cards.

'The Tarot is a complex form of Divination that can take many years to fully comprehend. The cards' meanings are not restricted to the simple explanations found in text books; the true meanings come from within yourself and the impressions which the cards give you.'

She held out the bag to each student in turn and they each drew out a deck of cards.

'Every deck is unique, my dears. Fate will guide your hand to the one most receptacle to your aura.'

Ron put his hand in the bag and withdrew a deck patterned in burgundy.

'Well, at least it's not maroon,' he muttered.

Harry, with some trepidation, reached deep into the bag, his hand brushing over several large packs of cards. Grabbing hold of one, he slowly pulled it out. Slightly larger than an ordinary pack of cards, it was beautifully decorated with entangled silver vines on a black background. Professor Trelawney stared at it, looking like she was about to faint. She let out a small gasp of horror before hurrying off to the next table.

'Spend some time shuffling and handling your deck, my dears. Allow the cards time to absorb a little of your psychic energies to produce accurate readings.' she said once everyone had chosen a deck. 'Never allow another person to touch your cards for their energies will contaminate the deck. Only with your permission may they be touched, and only if you are performing a reading for them. That is possibly the most important rule of the Tarot; never forget it, my dears.'

Before long, the class were shuffling the decks awkwardly and placing cards face down on the table in a basic three-card spread. Having their copies of 'Unfogging the Future' open at pages 58 and 59, they were about to attempt their first reading.

Harry went first. He flipped over the first card. The picture portrayed a tall skeleton holding a scythe blade with several human heads at its feet. The title was Death.

Ron rolled his eyes. 'Who couldn't see that one coming?'

Harry couldn't say he was surprised. He turned over his second card.

The Devil.  A hideous creature with two humans on either side of it, their necks encircled with chains.

Ron stared at it, less amused.

'Ooookay. Should we stop now?'

But Harry turned over the final card to reveal a dark, sinister tower being struck by lightning bolts as two figures plummeted to the ground below. The Tower.

'That doesn't look good.' Ron quickly consulted his book. 'Huh, that's weird.'

'What is?'

'The Death card doesn't mean an actual death; it symbolises change.' He shut the book looking relieved. 'So there we go, nothing to worry about!'

Unfortunately, Professor Trelawney had glided over at that moment to see their spreads. She took one look at Harry's and gave a strangled scream, startling the class.

'Oh, my poor dear! You have drawn the worst cards of the Major Arcana!'

She sank into a chair beside Harry and consulted the cards, her eyes huge and staring, her spindly hands hovering over the cards as though unsure as to whether it was safe to touch them. The entire class was watching with interest, leaning forward to see better. Harry checked his watch. The lesson had started nearly ten minutes ago and Professor Trelawney was surely about to -

'A change for the worst is fast approaching! Devastating consequences of thoughtless actions!' She stared glassy-eyed at the Tower card. 'And the destruction of everything you hold dear to your heart!' she announced in a breathless whisper.

'Let me guess,' Harry spoke up with fake brightness. 'I'm gonna die, right?'

Ron had to stuff his fist into his mouth to avoid laughing out loud. Dean and Seamus were sniggering in the far corner and Neville cracked a smile. The rest of the class seemed horrified that Harry wasn't taking the reading serious.

Professor Trelawney, however, didn't react to his words beyond a tragic, watery-eyed gaze. She merely rose and silently glided over to where Lavender and Parvati were seated.

Ron checked his watch and grinned up at Harry.

'Ten minutes, I win!'

*

Harry looked up at the post-owls streaming into the Great Hall. He hadn't touched his scrambled eggs or his pumpkin juice. He was too preoccupied to eat.

A handsome tawny owl swooped down towards him. With impressive aim, the owl dropped the letter it was holding in its beak neatly between Harry's plate and Ron's. Quickly, Harry snatched up the letter.

Dear Harry,

Just writing to let you know that Padfoot and I have arrived in Hogsmeade. Could you let us know the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends as soon as possible? Don't forget the promise you made to Padfoot, okay? Hopefully we'll see you soon.

From Moony

The larger, untidy scrawl that was Sirius' hand then replaced the neat writing.

Harry, tonight at eleven o'clock, look out of your dormitory window. Watch the forest.

Padfoot

Hermione read the letter over his shoulder.

'The first weekend's at the start of October,' she said. 'But what's Snuffles up to?'

'No idea,' said Harry, folding up the letter and putting it away inside his robes. 'When have we got Defence Against the Dark Arts?'

'In five minutes, come on Harry, hurry up and eat.' said Ron, shovelling a piece of toast into his mouth and grabbing his bag.

*

The Gryffindors arrived at the Defence classroom long before Professor Torr had even left the Great Hall. There was a rush for seats and everyone had their wands, quills, books and parchment out ready by the time she swept into the room.

'Good morning everyone!' she said cheerfully.

Professor Torr's dark hair was tied back in an elegant French braid and her dark red robes hugged her body tightly, showing off a slender figure.

She called the register, pausing only for a second before calling Harry's name, then picked up her wand.

'Now then, Professor Dumbledore has kindly brought me up to date with the subject areas you've already covered. I'm aware that you've seen the Unforgivables and covered a wide variety of hexes and Dark creatures.'

She paused, giving the class an almost disapproving glare.

'Yet none of you have had any practical training in defending yourself from a magical attack, which I find quite unsatisfactory for a fifth year class - VULNUS!'

A blast of dark blue light shot over their heads - the whole class ducked, some students crying out in fright. With an alarming bang, the hex struck the back wall. The students slowly sat back up, looking over their shoulders at the blackened scorch marks on the stone.

Professor Torr twirled her wand skilfully between slender fingers.

'How many of you were ready for that?' Her violet eyes swept round the room. 'None of you. Not that that would have made a difference since you wouldn't have known how to block a curse such as that. We shall begin with the most basic of the Elemental Barriers. Come on, now, wands out, let's get started.'

The Gryffindors snatched up their wands, rapt with attention. Soon, the class were all trying to conjure a temporary shimmering barrier out of the air in front of them. Professor Torr charmed several pieces of chalk to fly slowly towards them to practise blocking.

Neville wasn't having much luck. His chalk flew straight into his face, smudging his nose before reversing sharply and flying forward to attack again. Hermione, having no such problem, was quick to point out his mispronunciation of the incantation. Harry and Ron were also quick to catch on.

Harry brandished his wand at the attacking chalk.

'Claustra-aeris!' he commanded.

The chalk shuddered, stopping abruptly in mid-air. The air between Harry's wand and the chalk was rippling slightly, blurring like a heat-haze.

Professor Torr was striding up and down the classroom.

'Not bad, Mr Finnigan, not bad. Keep your hand steady, Miss Patil, no need to be so elaborate with the wand motion - there's no time for fancy deliverance in a fight.'

Professor Torr paused to have a look at Ron's and Harry's. Both barriers were holding off the chalk pieces. Professor Torr nodded, satisfied.

'Very good, Mr Weasley … Mr Potter - but let's see how strong they really are.'

She flicked her wand at the levitating chalk. Both pieces began to strain at the barriers, pushing so hard that they started to vibrate. Slowly, Harry's piece edged forward.

Brow furrowed in concentration, Harry repeated the spell firmly under his breath. The chalk faltered. For a second Harry was sure it had worked. But then the chalk abruptly tore through the air barrier to smack him squarely between the eyes, barely missing his glasses.

'A fair try, Mr Potter,' said Professor Torr, turning instead to smile at Ron whose own barrier was still keeping the chalk at bay. 'Very impressive, Mr Weasley,' she smiled before moving on to check Lavender's.

Ron looked rather smug.

'This is easy really.' he said, twirling his wand casually at the chalk as it pushed harder against the barrier.

'Speak for yourself,' muttered Harry, rubbing his forehead. His chalk was drifting lazily in the air like it was mocking him. Gripping his wand firmly, Harry tried again.

By the time the bell had rung to signal the end of the lesson, Harry had shown some improvement, but by no means was he the only one baring chalk marks and small scratches. Parvati was rubbing her face with a tissue, wiping away a fair amount of chalk dust. Neville was looking unnaturally pale and Dean was tenderly feeling a scratch on his nose where a sharp edge had caught him.

'Come on, Harry,' said Ron, tossing his wand back into his bag. 'Let's ask her about Quidditch.'

Harry nodded eagerly, swung his bag onto his shoulder and followed Ron up to Professor Torr's desk. She looked up at them as they approached.

'Can I help you with something, Mr Weasley?' she asked brightly.

'Well … um … actually I was wondering - what with you being a Quidditch coach and all - if you were going to come and watch the Gryffindor try-outs in October?' said Ron in a rush.

Professor Torr smiled.

'Certainly, I wouldn't want to miss that. Are you on the team? What position?'

Ron grinned, shaking his head.

'No, Professor, but I'll be trying out for Keeper. Harry's on the team,' Ron gestured to Harry. 'He's the Gryffindor Seeker and the new Captain!'

Professor Torr's violet eyes looked Harry up and down, taking in his slender build, glasses, messy hair and lingering on his forehead.

'Indeed,' she said slowly, shifting her gaze back to Ron.

'Harry was the youngest Seeker in a century,' he went on, sounding very proud. 'And Gryffindor has never lost a match since he joined!'

Harry could have corrected Ron on that point, but was too busy grinning like an idiot.

'Ron's been training all summer,' Harry said quickly. 'I think he'd make a great Keeper -'

Professor Torr nodded and stood up.

'Well, I suppose I'll have to keep an eye on you, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley. I'll see you both next lesson.'

She shooed them out of the classroom and walked off down the corridor.

Harry and Ron stood there, staring after her, rather taken aback. Ron looked at Harry.

'Okay, not the friendliest person I've ever met,' he said in a disappointed tone. 'I thought she'd have been impressed.'

'Well, thanks anyway, you didn't have to say all that.'

'Why not? Harry, you can go places in Quidditch if you can get in with the right people. You wait until she sees you in the air, I'll bet she'll want to sign you up in no time.'

'But what about you?' asked Harry as they set off down the corridor towards the Great Hall. 'Don't you think she'll be impressed with you? She seemed more interested in talking to you.'

Ron shrugged.

'I dunno. Guess it depends on whether I make the team or not.' He chanced a half-glance at Harry.

'Ron, I can't just put you on the team because you're my best friend,' sighed Harry.

'I wasn't thinking that,' said Ron, a little too quickly.

'Don't get me wrong, I'd love to have you on the team, I've seen you play and I really think you're good enough to make the team, but … you've really got to prove it at the trials against everyone else who's trying for it.'

Ron nodded, eyes on the floor.

'Come on, Ron,' said Harry, slightly exasperated. 'I can't show favouritism, you know I can't. It wouldn't be fair.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Ron, gloomily.

'Look, you come to the trials, show everyone what you can do, play better than everyone else trying for Keeper and I'll be hard pushed not to put you on the team.'

Ron perked up, grinning. 'Force you into it, will I?'

Harry gave a helpless shrug. 'I won't have a choice!' he said, smiling.

They hurried off to lunch.

*

Harry lay awake in bed, staring up at the dark canopy of his bed, waiting for eleven o'clock to arrive. Everyone else in the dormitory was fast asleep; muffled snoring was the only sound in the darkness.

Harry sighed, thinking about what Ron had said.

Did he really have the talent to be a professional player? Okay, everyone said he had talent … true; he'd only ever lost one match in three years, but was that good enough?

It was nice to believe that he was, but Harry couldn't help but wonder.

Professor Torr hadn't seemed too impressed, almost disinterested, but like Ron had said, she'd have to see him fly first.

Ten to eleven.

The fantasies from the night before came back to him. Hermione was right, as always, this could be a huge chance for him.

But could he really take it with a war going on? It felt wrong in a way. Like he shouldn't be planning a future when someone was bent on having him killed. Anything beyond planning to stay alive seemed a tad pointless at the moment.

Harry groaned and rolled over. This wasn't fair. So what if he wanted to play Quidditch? Why shouldn't he have some fun while he could? Besides, Professor Torr might not even want to consider him - Harry's heart sank. Now he was just depressing himself.

It was frustrating but what was he supposed to do? Put his life on hold because of a war he could do very little to influence was coming? It was ridiculous to think that he alone could do something. Perhaps as long as he stayed safe, that would be enough for the time being. If he didn't do that now, Sirius would no doubt insist upon it.

Harry checked his watch. Eleven o'clock.

Swinging himself out of bed, Harry crept over to the window. The beautiful crescent moon, surrounded by millions of shining stars, lit the dark blue sky. The grounds below were bathed in a soft silver-white light. The Whomping Willow stood alone and as still as a statue in the centre of the grounds, clearly illuminated by the starlight.

Then something else caught Harry's eye.

It emerged from the forest, slowly at first, as though it didn't want to be seen. A huge, bear-like dog, as black as the shadows, slipped out from under the cover of the trees and trotted purposely across the lawns.

Harry hoisted himself up and sat on the windowsill, watching. Sirius paused by Hagrid's vegetable patch and looked up towards Gryffindor Tower. Harry smiled and waved. His godfather wagged his tail and raised a paw in acknowledgement.

He was carrying something in his mouth. Squeezing between the fence plats, Sirius entered the patch and began to dig. Harry leaned forward, nose pressed against the glass.

Sirius was digging a shallow hole between a row of pumpkins and a row of tall leafy plants Harry assumed were tomatoes. A minute later, Sirius dropped what he held in his jaw into the hole, turned around and started shifting the earth back over it. Once the hole had been filled, Sirius wriggled back through the fence, scampered up the lawn and looked back up at Harry.

With a toss of his head and a low bark, Sirius indicated the patch. Harry got the gist of the message and gave Sirius the thumbs up and a nod.

Satisfied, Sirius barked again, spun round and headed back to the forest. Like a ghost, he melted into the shadows and vanished.

Harry moved back to bed, curious as to what Sirius had left but did not dare risk sneaking out to have a look. Lying back down, Harry suddenly felt lot better. Sirius going to be nearby this year for the sole purpose of looking out for Harry. There weren't any Dementors around so he was unlikely to get caught. It was still risky being here, but it was risk he was taking for Harry.

That lovely warm feeling of content soon had him drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

*

To Be Continued

*

Please review.

All comments and constructive criticism are appreciated.

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Authors Notes

Christy – Don't worry, they'll keep coming for another ten weeks or so!  It is a fairly long fic. ^_^

Evil spapple pie – LOL.  Okay, I guess you have more of a reason to dislike toads than I do to like them.  But – playing golf with them?? *cracks up laughing* 

Yep, 7 was an uneventful chapter, I really agree. – I just needed to get them all to Hogwarts and the introduction of the new professor over and done with.  Now that that's out of the way, the story can get going.  It does pick up over the next few chapters.  

But … um … what is a Mary Sue?  It's probably a silly question but I can only assume that it's an American term for … something or other.  I've seen the phrase used by other authors, usually claiming that their new character is not a Mary Sue … but I have no idea what they're going on about!  Could you be a very kind person and explain to me what that means?  I don't like being left in the dark!

MorganD - *Puts finger to lips*  Ssshhh!  *Whispers dramatically*  All will be revealed in due course!  And not for a while I might add!  It took a while but I've managed to sort out the missing pieces that you wrote to me about. *fingers crossed*  Hope you liked the chapter and I'll see you around, my faithful reader!