Author's Note: What? Neither Occamy nor sbys reasoned that the substitute coach HAD to be Cho? After she and Harry bonded in the back-story of Confessions, who ELSE would he ask to take his place? She IS a Seeker, and a good one (though not as good as Harry).
It should be much easier to divine THIS chapter's new player. (The chapter title provides the clue.) The practice is about to begin, so hurry off to take your seat in the stadium (in the Gryffindor section, I hope). Cheer all you want, but mind you don't spill pumpkin juice down the neck of the person in front of you. Wands CAN sometimes be drawn in anger, and the Slug-Belly Curse can be very unpleasant. Just ask Ron.
***
"I knew I'd find you up here!"
Hermione was standing in the doorway of the Fifth Year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. Her arms were folded, and she wore an expression that mirrored the tone of her voice: one of mingled disapproval and amusement.
Harry was sitting on his trunk, which he had dragged from the foot of his bed and positioned directly under the window which looked West out onto the Hogwarts grounds. With his elbows on the window sill and his chin in his hands, it was evident to Hermione that his mind was as far from the homework he was supposed to be doing as it could possibly get. Long before she had crossed the distance between them so as to see out the window herself, Hermione knew precisely what images were filling Harry's thoughts.
Harry jumped when Hermione placed her arms around his neck. Turning about to find himself staring into his girlfriend's deep brown eyes, Harry flashed a guilty grin which he hoped would defuse the unspoken accusation in Hermione's expression.
"Have you seen Ron's flying in the last couple of weeks?" Harry said as he turned his attention back to the scene outside his window. "I wouldn't have believed it. Y'know, I was only stroking Ron's ego when I told him he could be another Charlie. But I think he's actually gone and done it."
Hermione tightened her hold on Harry as she stood behind him. Even with Harry sitting, Hermione's chin was only just able to rest atop his head, from which position her eyes were able to follow his across the Hogwarts grounds and onto the Quidditch pitch.
"I know you wish it was you out there," Hermione said understandingly. "Ron really is coming along, isn't he? Engaging Cho as his coach was inspired, Harry. It's not only helped Ron to realize his full potential, but it's been good for Cho, too. It gives her something to focus on besides..."
She did not need to finish her thought. Harry nodded. "We really need this win tomorrow. Even with all those points you racked up during final exams, it's still anyone's race to win. I hate to admit it, but I think some part of me doubted whether Ron had the right stuff to pull it off. But now -- blimey, I'd love to be out there tomorrow, cheering him on."
"I wish you could, too," Hermione said softly, the slight tremble in her voice implying more than her words alone might suggest. "You and Sirius are going out again tomorrow, I suppose?"
"Yes," Harry said. "Dumbledore reckons we're getting close to a secret meeting place where we might catch the lot of them together. It would deprive Voldemort of some of his most valuable agents, maybe set his plans back months."
"I know you're doing what you feel you have to, Harry," Hermione said. "In your place, I'd probably do the same thing. And if it brings us a step closer to ending Voldemort's reign of terror..."
Harry smiled appreciatively at hearing Hermione speak Voldemort's name. She did so only in hushed tones, it was true, and never in the presence of others. But that she had found the courage within herself to do so at all warmed Harry's heart. Hermione was special in so many ways already. This was merely one more reason to love her.
"Well," Hermione said resignedly, tightening her arms around Harry's neck, "if you'll be gone tomorrow, then we'd best get to that Potions essay now. It's due on Monday, you know. And if I know Snape, he's not going to accept any excuse short of death for you not handing it in."
"It's not fair," Harry grumbled. "Exams are over. Why do I have to do an essay at all?"
"Because of all the classes you missed to attend meetings of the Order," Hermione reminded him. "And to be perfectly fair, we are in our classes to learn."
Sighing heavily in defeat, Harry dragged his eyes from the window and allowed Hermione to lead him down the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor common room.
*
The wind rushed over Ron's ears in a steady roar as he sped through the air. He had spied a glint of gold from the corner of his eye, and he was now flashing meteor-like toward the Southwest corner of the field, his right hand outstretched as his left guided the Firebolt with a sure, steady confidence.
Suddenly, at the farthest range of his peripheral vision, Ron glimpsed a dark shape hurtling toward him. Not taking his eyes from his target, he gave his broomstick a sharp tug; the Firebolt, responding with the speed of thought, executed a perfectly-timed roll so that the Bludger pelting straight for his head missed him cleanly and disappeared from sight. Completing his roll with the sharpness of a whip-crack, Ron shot forward, a triumphant smile on his freckled face. With a final burst of speed, Ron clamped his fingers shut and exulted to feel a frantic, futile thrumming of tiny wings within his grasp. He soared high into the air, his arm raised to display the Golden Snitch held tightly in his closed fist.
"BRAVO!" Fred shouted as he waved his Beater's club energetically.
"You ducked that Bludger better than Charlie ever would have," George said as both twins closed in on Ron, who sported the widest grin either had ever seen him wear.
"All down to Cho," Ron said as he opened his hand and released the Snitch, which quickly darted away and vanished against the canopy of clear, blue sky.
"You did the work, Ron," Cho said as she glided up to join the three Weasleys. Her face was positively radiant in the glow of the late afternoon sun, her dark eyes sparkling like dusky jewels.
The four of them glided to the ground, laughing and exchanging compliments. But no sooner had Ron's feet touched the grass than his soaring spirits were likewise grounded by a cold, drawling voice.
"So it's true, is it?" Draco Malfoy was walking across the field, flanked by his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. "I thought it must be a joke. Gryffindor must be desperate to let you play Seeker in the biggest game of the year, Weasley."
As Ron glowered at Malfoy, Fred strode forward, his broomstick brandished weapon-like in his hand. "Come to spy, have you, Malfoy?" Fred said hotly. "Well, go back and tell that sorry excuse for a Slytherin team that they might as well stay in bed tomorrow and save themselves the humiliation. This match is as good as won."
Malfoy's lip curled derisively. "You're joking! Just because Potty is letting the Weasle ride his broomstick doesn't mean he's qualified to fly it."
"He caught the Snitch, didn't he?" George said sharply from where he now stood on Ron's other side. Though Fred and George were not nearly so large and threatening as Crabbe and Goyle, Ron was grateful for the support all the same. And if it came to a battle of wands, Ron did not doubt that Fred and George could more than hold their own against Malfoy's sluggish, stupid cronies.
"Anyone can catch the Snitch in practice," Malfoy sneered contemptuously. "But do it in a real game?" Malfoy's grey eyes were now piercing Ron's blue ones like white-hot needles. "If you're smart, Weasley, you'll stay in bed tomorrow. Tell that pathetic excuse for a captain of yours that she's welcome to concede the match any time."
"You might be surprised, Malfoy," interjected a new voice. Cho had now stepped forward. Malfoy had evidently missed seeing her, as she was considerably shorter than even Fred and George, who were themselves not nearly so tall as Ron. Malfoy now regarded Cho with something less than approval. The Slytherin team had never included girls, and Malfoy made no attempt to disguise his contempt for the Ravenclaw Seeker.
"Yes, I heard you were coaching Weasley, Chang," Malfoy said dismissively. "Talk about the blind leading the blind. I seem to recall Slytherin beating Ravenclaw in the first game of the year, and by a good margin, too."
No one spoke. It was true that Malfoy, playing Seeker for Slytherin, had beaten Cho to the Snitch in their matchup last October. It was chiefly through Harry's support that Cho had played at all, burdened as she still was by the memory of Cedric's death. Even so, it had been a close game until the Slytherin Beaters, playing their typical dirty brand of Quidditch, had knocked Cho off her broom with a relentless hail of Bludgers, putting her in the infirmary for three days.
To everyone's surprise, not least Malfoy's, Cho smiled with no slightest hint of malice.
"Let's go, Ron," she said, her warm, midnight eyes never leaving Malfoy's cold, grey ones. "This little Mudblood's not worth the bother."
With silent intakes of breath, the three Weasleys watched as Malfoy's pale cheeks began to burn like twin sunsets.
"What did you call me?" Malfoy said hoarsely as he quivered ever so slightly, as with suppressed fury.
"Mudblood," Cho said in a sweet yet condescending voice. "It refers to someone without proper wizarding blood."
Now shivering visibly with rage, Malfoy hissed venomously, "I'll have you know that the Malfoy family can trace its magical origins back to the days of Merlin himself."
Cho's gentle yet derisive laugh cut Malfoy like a knife.
"The Chang family dates back over five thousand years," she said with an airy amusement. "MY family were royal magicians in the courts of the emperors of China when your people were living in wattle huts and herding goats with staffs instead of wands. Ah, well," she shrugged. "Mudblood is as Mudblood does, I suppose."
With a nod at Ron, Cho turned her back on Malfoy, who could only stare dumbfounded after her as she glided away with her shoulders squared and her head held high. The three Weasleys followed her like a royal escort, and it was not until they passed under the arch leading to the Gryffindor locker room that all four dissolved into gales of laughter.
"That was brilliant!" George said, his sides aching from his unrestrained guffaws.
"Is he gone yet?" Fred gasped as his laughter subsided. Ron peered around the corner of the doorway cautiously.
"Yeah," Ron said, turning to reveal freckled cheeks glistening with tears of mirth. "All clear. Blimey, but that was priceless! Not quite as good as the day Mad-Eye -- excuse me, Crouch -- turned him into the 'Amazing Bouncing Ferret' -- but ruddy close!"
"Were your family really court magicians, Cho?" Fred asked, his voice now back to normal.
"Who knows?" Cho smiled impishly. "But it sure put a cork in his cake hole, didn't it?"
Following a bout of renewed laughter, Fred handed his school broom to George, who replaced them in the storage cupboard. The twins then moved toward the doorway leading to the showers.
"Coming, Ron?" George called over his shoulder.
Ron shook his head before casting his eyes on Cho. "Still a lot of daylight left. I want to get in as much practice as I can before tomorrow."
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" George said. "Blimey, I'm beginning to think we can really do this."
"Sleep on your back tonight," Ron advised as he shifted toward the doorway. "Both of you. Don't want your arms to cramp up tomorrow. I want to see those Bludgers knocking Malfoy's head off, not mine."
By the time Ron reached the edge of the field, Cho at his side, his smile had retreated into an expression of quiet determination which his companion regarded with undisguised admiration.
"You do want this badly, don't you?" Cho said in a low voice.
"More than you know," Ron returned in a near-whisper.
"It's not easy being Harry Potter's best mate, is it?" Cho said without warning.
Turning about in surprise, Ron was momentarily startled to behold an expression of calm serenity on Cho's face which seemed to soften her already lovely features into something beyond definition. Suspecting that Cho's question might have been rhetorical, he responded with a question of his own, one which was decidedly not rhetorical.
"Why are you doing this, Cho? I mean, Harry asked you and all. But what's in it for you?"
"Suspicious, aren't you?" Cho chuckled, her dark eyes penetrating.
"Uh -- yeah," Ron admitted. "Guess I am. Growing up with Fred and George do that to a bloke, I guess."
"You'll laugh," Cho said hesitantly.
"No, I won't," Ron said earnestly.
Regarding Ron closely for a moment, Cho said, "No. Maybe you won't. The old Ron might have. But this new Ron..."
Ron waited patiently for Cho to speak, their eyes linked as if by a silken thread.
"What do I get out of it," Cho said analytically. "Aside from helping someone who helped me, that is. It's very simple, Ron. I want Ravenclaw to come in second in the House Championship this year."
"Come again?"
Cho smiled amusedly. "Harry told you that the points are very close this year," she prompted. Ron nodded. "Well, they're not so close as Harry thinks. I've seen the exam results, and the best Ravenclaw can hope for is second place. Whoever wins this last game will win the House Championship. That's set in stone. But second and third place are up for grabs. Gryffindor currently holds a slight lead over Slytherin. If Slytherin wins tomorrow, they'll beat Gryffindor narrowly, putting Ravenclaw in third place. But if Gryffindor wins tomorrow, then Slytherin will fall below Ravenclaw. And that's what I want. That's what I'm working for."
"Are you saying," Ron said in disbelief, "that it's okay with you if Ravenclaw finishes second?"
"Of course," Cho replied. "If that's all we've earned, then that's where we belong. Just so long," she added with a devilish grin, "as we finish above Slytherin -- and Malfoy."
Ron shook his head. "Just once," he smiled wanly, "I want to know what it feels like to be the best at something. That's not easy when you're the youngest of six brothers. Sure, Ginny's younger than me," he conceded. "But it's different with her. She's the only girl, so there's really nothing for her to measure up to, y'know? Me, now..."
Ron's eyes took on a faraway look as they cast skyward searchingly.
"The day I met Harry on the Hogwarts Express, I had Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat..."
Ron's voice trailed off uncertainly. It was best not to elaborate as to the true nature of Scabbers. Most of the school remained ignorant of Ron's, Harry's and Hermione's connection to Sirius Black, in which Scabbers -- revealed to be an Animagus named Peter Pettigrew -- played no small part. And so long as Sirius remained a fugitive with the specter of Azkaban hanging over his head, better that that ignorance remain undispelled.
"Even now," Ron said gloomily, brandishing Harry's Firebolt meaningfully, "I'm only second best. If Harry weren't off working for Dumbledore on some secret mission involving You-Know-Who, I wouldn't be in this spot. I'd be up in the stands, where I belong, cheering Harry to victory."
"That's as may be," Cho said. "But Harry isn't here. You are. And when the Gryffindor team takes to the air tomorrow, you will be their Seeker.
"Now, shall we carry on with our practice? If you're as pathetic as you seem to think you are, then we shouldn't waste a minute, should we?"
The twinkle in Cho's eyes brought an unwilling grin to Ron's slightly pink face. He didn't know why he had spoken so candidly just now. None but Harry and Hermione had ever elicited such unrestrained forthrightness from him before.
"We won't need the Bludgers any more," Cho said, delicately steering the conversation back to the business at hand. "I'll Summon them back and box them up." Suiting deed to word, she drew her wand and pointed it toward the vast open space between the two sets of goalposts, where the twin Bludgers could be glimpsed darting about in search of unwary fliers to knock off their brooms.
"Pull in the Snitch while you're at it," Ron said, a look of steely determination hardening his features.
Cho's brow furrowed in momentary confusion before relaxing in concert with a smile of realization.
"I want to get it just right," Ron said firmly. "After what just happened a bit ago, I intend to have a little surprise waiting for Malfoy tomorrow."
Once the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch were safely put away, Cho walked to the bench at the edge of the field whereon sat the magical megaphone she had been using throughout their practice sessions -- the same one used by Lee Jordan to commentate the matches on game day. Megaphone in hand, Cho mounted her broom and, with a nod at Ron, shot into the air. Cho rose higher than Ron, enabling her to observe him from every angle. Once she was positioned, she began to shout instructions through the megaphone.
"Right, now," she directed, her magically-enhanced voice carrying easily to Ron's ears. "Tight grip. Forward just a little. Bit more. That's it." As Ron exploded into a blur of motion below her, Cho watched with unblinking eyes, the megaphone in her hand trembling from her excitement. "Not yet!" she shouted as her voice reverberated from the stands. "Hold it...hold it...NOW!"
Cho felt as if her heart had stopped; then, a moment later, she let out a whoop of triumph and unbridled delight. She nosed her broomstick groundward, touching the grass lightly as Ron did an ecstatic loop overhead before swooping down with surgical precision and landing feather-light in front of her. As Cho clapped her hands with delight, her face beaming, Ron ran forward and threw his arms around her.
"I'm going to do it!" Ron barked savagely. "I'm going to show Malfoy! I'm going to show them all!"
Ron pulled back from Cho, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She smiled up at him from her diminutive height; it was, Ron thought suddenly, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Their eyes met, and it was as if an unseen hand had flicked a switch in Ron's brain, extinguishing all cogent thought like a candle flame. With no slightest thought to guide him, he acted. In one smooth, unhurried motion, Ron bent and covered Cho's mouth with his. Their lips melded for the barest moment before Cho jerked back as if stung by a hornet. Her dark, limpid eyes were wide with something Ron could later describe only as horror. Petrified by the unexpectedness of his action, Ron could only look on in a state of near shock as Cho tore herself away and bolted across the field, her broomstick lying forgotten on the grass.
***
Author's Note: Be back next time when Seekers Weasley and Malfoy square off in the battle for the Quidditch Cup and the House Championship. Reserve your seat early. I hear the whole school is turning out. See you then.
It should be much easier to divine THIS chapter's new player. (The chapter title provides the clue.) The practice is about to begin, so hurry off to take your seat in the stadium (in the Gryffindor section, I hope). Cheer all you want, but mind you don't spill pumpkin juice down the neck of the person in front of you. Wands CAN sometimes be drawn in anger, and the Slug-Belly Curse can be very unpleasant. Just ask Ron.
"I knew I'd find you up here!"
Hermione was standing in the doorway of the Fifth Year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. Her arms were folded, and she wore an expression that mirrored the tone of her voice: one of mingled disapproval and amusement.
Harry was sitting on his trunk, which he had dragged from the foot of his bed and positioned directly under the window which looked West out onto the Hogwarts grounds. With his elbows on the window sill and his chin in his hands, it was evident to Hermione that his mind was as far from the homework he was supposed to be doing as it could possibly get. Long before she had crossed the distance between them so as to see out the window herself, Hermione knew precisely what images were filling Harry's thoughts.
Harry jumped when Hermione placed her arms around his neck. Turning about to find himself staring into his girlfriend's deep brown eyes, Harry flashed a guilty grin which he hoped would defuse the unspoken accusation in Hermione's expression.
"Have you seen Ron's flying in the last couple of weeks?" Harry said as he turned his attention back to the scene outside his window. "I wouldn't have believed it. Y'know, I was only stroking Ron's ego when I told him he could be another Charlie. But I think he's actually gone and done it."
Hermione tightened her hold on Harry as she stood behind him. Even with Harry sitting, Hermione's chin was only just able to rest atop his head, from which position her eyes were able to follow his across the Hogwarts grounds and onto the Quidditch pitch.
"I know you wish it was you out there," Hermione said understandingly. "Ron really is coming along, isn't he? Engaging Cho as his coach was inspired, Harry. It's not only helped Ron to realize his full potential, but it's been good for Cho, too. It gives her something to focus on besides..."
She did not need to finish her thought. Harry nodded. "We really need this win tomorrow. Even with all those points you racked up during final exams, it's still anyone's race to win. I hate to admit it, but I think some part of me doubted whether Ron had the right stuff to pull it off. But now -- blimey, I'd love to be out there tomorrow, cheering him on."
"I wish you could, too," Hermione said softly, the slight tremble in her voice implying more than her words alone might suggest. "You and Sirius are going out again tomorrow, I suppose?"
"Yes," Harry said. "Dumbledore reckons we're getting close to a secret meeting place where we might catch the lot of them together. It would deprive Voldemort of some of his most valuable agents, maybe set his plans back months."
"I know you're doing what you feel you have to, Harry," Hermione said. "In your place, I'd probably do the same thing. And if it brings us a step closer to ending Voldemort's reign of terror..."
Harry smiled appreciatively at hearing Hermione speak Voldemort's name. She did so only in hushed tones, it was true, and never in the presence of others. But that she had found the courage within herself to do so at all warmed Harry's heart. Hermione was special in so many ways already. This was merely one more reason to love her.
"Well," Hermione said resignedly, tightening her arms around Harry's neck, "if you'll be gone tomorrow, then we'd best get to that Potions essay now. It's due on Monday, you know. And if I know Snape, he's not going to accept any excuse short of death for you not handing it in."
"It's not fair," Harry grumbled. "Exams are over. Why do I have to do an essay at all?"
"Because of all the classes you missed to attend meetings of the Order," Hermione reminded him. "And to be perfectly fair, we are in our classes to learn."
Sighing heavily in defeat, Harry dragged his eyes from the window and allowed Hermione to lead him down the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor common room.
The wind rushed over Ron's ears in a steady roar as he sped through the air. He had spied a glint of gold from the corner of his eye, and he was now flashing meteor-like toward the Southwest corner of the field, his right hand outstretched as his left guided the Firebolt with a sure, steady confidence.
Suddenly, at the farthest range of his peripheral vision, Ron glimpsed a dark shape hurtling toward him. Not taking his eyes from his target, he gave his broomstick a sharp tug; the Firebolt, responding with the speed of thought, executed a perfectly-timed roll so that the Bludger pelting straight for his head missed him cleanly and disappeared from sight. Completing his roll with the sharpness of a whip-crack, Ron shot forward, a triumphant smile on his freckled face. With a final burst of speed, Ron clamped his fingers shut and exulted to feel a frantic, futile thrumming of tiny wings within his grasp. He soared high into the air, his arm raised to display the Golden Snitch held tightly in his closed fist.
"BRAVO!" Fred shouted as he waved his Beater's club energetically.
"You ducked that Bludger better than Charlie ever would have," George said as both twins closed in on Ron, who sported the widest grin either had ever seen him wear.
"All down to Cho," Ron said as he opened his hand and released the Snitch, which quickly darted away and vanished against the canopy of clear, blue sky.
"You did the work, Ron," Cho said as she glided up to join the three Weasleys. Her face was positively radiant in the glow of the late afternoon sun, her dark eyes sparkling like dusky jewels.
The four of them glided to the ground, laughing and exchanging compliments. But no sooner had Ron's feet touched the grass than his soaring spirits were likewise grounded by a cold, drawling voice.
"So it's true, is it?" Draco Malfoy was walking across the field, flanked by his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. "I thought it must be a joke. Gryffindor must be desperate to let you play Seeker in the biggest game of the year, Weasley."
As Ron glowered at Malfoy, Fred strode forward, his broomstick brandished weapon-like in his hand. "Come to spy, have you, Malfoy?" Fred said hotly. "Well, go back and tell that sorry excuse for a Slytherin team that they might as well stay in bed tomorrow and save themselves the humiliation. This match is as good as won."
Malfoy's lip curled derisively. "You're joking! Just because Potty is letting the Weasle ride his broomstick doesn't mean he's qualified to fly it."
"He caught the Snitch, didn't he?" George said sharply from where he now stood on Ron's other side. Though Fred and George were not nearly so large and threatening as Crabbe and Goyle, Ron was grateful for the support all the same. And if it came to a battle of wands, Ron did not doubt that Fred and George could more than hold their own against Malfoy's sluggish, stupid cronies.
"Anyone can catch the Snitch in practice," Malfoy sneered contemptuously. "But do it in a real game?" Malfoy's grey eyes were now piercing Ron's blue ones like white-hot needles. "If you're smart, Weasley, you'll stay in bed tomorrow. Tell that pathetic excuse for a captain of yours that she's welcome to concede the match any time."
"You might be surprised, Malfoy," interjected a new voice. Cho had now stepped forward. Malfoy had evidently missed seeing her, as she was considerably shorter than even Fred and George, who were themselves not nearly so tall as Ron. Malfoy now regarded Cho with something less than approval. The Slytherin team had never included girls, and Malfoy made no attempt to disguise his contempt for the Ravenclaw Seeker.
"Yes, I heard you were coaching Weasley, Chang," Malfoy said dismissively. "Talk about the blind leading the blind. I seem to recall Slytherin beating Ravenclaw in the first game of the year, and by a good margin, too."
No one spoke. It was true that Malfoy, playing Seeker for Slytherin, had beaten Cho to the Snitch in their matchup last October. It was chiefly through Harry's support that Cho had played at all, burdened as she still was by the memory of Cedric's death. Even so, it had been a close game until the Slytherin Beaters, playing their typical dirty brand of Quidditch, had knocked Cho off her broom with a relentless hail of Bludgers, putting her in the infirmary for three days.
To everyone's surprise, not least Malfoy's, Cho smiled with no slightest hint of malice.
"Let's go, Ron," she said, her warm, midnight eyes never leaving Malfoy's cold, grey ones. "This little Mudblood's not worth the bother."
With silent intakes of breath, the three Weasleys watched as Malfoy's pale cheeks began to burn like twin sunsets.
"What did you call me?" Malfoy said hoarsely as he quivered ever so slightly, as with suppressed fury.
"Mudblood," Cho said in a sweet yet condescending voice. "It refers to someone without proper wizarding blood."
Now shivering visibly with rage, Malfoy hissed venomously, "I'll have you know that the Malfoy family can trace its magical origins back to the days of Merlin himself."
Cho's gentle yet derisive laugh cut Malfoy like a knife.
"The Chang family dates back over five thousand years," she said with an airy amusement. "MY family were royal magicians in the courts of the emperors of China when your people were living in wattle huts and herding goats with staffs instead of wands. Ah, well," she shrugged. "Mudblood is as Mudblood does, I suppose."
With a nod at Ron, Cho turned her back on Malfoy, who could only stare dumbfounded after her as she glided away with her shoulders squared and her head held high. The three Weasleys followed her like a royal escort, and it was not until they passed under the arch leading to the Gryffindor locker room that all four dissolved into gales of laughter.
"That was brilliant!" George said, his sides aching from his unrestrained guffaws.
"Is he gone yet?" Fred gasped as his laughter subsided. Ron peered around the corner of the doorway cautiously.
"Yeah," Ron said, turning to reveal freckled cheeks glistening with tears of mirth. "All clear. Blimey, but that was priceless! Not quite as good as the day Mad-Eye -- excuse me, Crouch -- turned him into the 'Amazing Bouncing Ferret' -- but ruddy close!"
"Were your family really court magicians, Cho?" Fred asked, his voice now back to normal.
"Who knows?" Cho smiled impishly. "But it sure put a cork in his cake hole, didn't it?"
Following a bout of renewed laughter, Fred handed his school broom to George, who replaced them in the storage cupboard. The twins then moved toward the doorway leading to the showers.
"Coming, Ron?" George called over his shoulder.
Ron shook his head before casting his eyes on Cho. "Still a lot of daylight left. I want to get in as much practice as I can before tomorrow."
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" George said. "Blimey, I'm beginning to think we can really do this."
"Sleep on your back tonight," Ron advised as he shifted toward the doorway. "Both of you. Don't want your arms to cramp up tomorrow. I want to see those Bludgers knocking Malfoy's head off, not mine."
By the time Ron reached the edge of the field, Cho at his side, his smile had retreated into an expression of quiet determination which his companion regarded with undisguised admiration.
"You do want this badly, don't you?" Cho said in a low voice.
"More than you know," Ron returned in a near-whisper.
"It's not easy being Harry Potter's best mate, is it?" Cho said without warning.
Turning about in surprise, Ron was momentarily startled to behold an expression of calm serenity on Cho's face which seemed to soften her already lovely features into something beyond definition. Suspecting that Cho's question might have been rhetorical, he responded with a question of his own, one which was decidedly not rhetorical.
"Why are you doing this, Cho? I mean, Harry asked you and all. But what's in it for you?"
"Suspicious, aren't you?" Cho chuckled, her dark eyes penetrating.
"Uh -- yeah," Ron admitted. "Guess I am. Growing up with Fred and George do that to a bloke, I guess."
"You'll laugh," Cho said hesitantly.
"No, I won't," Ron said earnestly.
Regarding Ron closely for a moment, Cho said, "No. Maybe you won't. The old Ron might have. But this new Ron..."
Ron waited patiently for Cho to speak, their eyes linked as if by a silken thread.
"What do I get out of it," Cho said analytically. "Aside from helping someone who helped me, that is. It's very simple, Ron. I want Ravenclaw to come in second in the House Championship this year."
"Come again?"
Cho smiled amusedly. "Harry told you that the points are very close this year," she prompted. Ron nodded. "Well, they're not so close as Harry thinks. I've seen the exam results, and the best Ravenclaw can hope for is second place. Whoever wins this last game will win the House Championship. That's set in stone. But second and third place are up for grabs. Gryffindor currently holds a slight lead over Slytherin. If Slytherin wins tomorrow, they'll beat Gryffindor narrowly, putting Ravenclaw in third place. But if Gryffindor wins tomorrow, then Slytherin will fall below Ravenclaw. And that's what I want. That's what I'm working for."
"Are you saying," Ron said in disbelief, "that it's okay with you if Ravenclaw finishes second?"
"Of course," Cho replied. "If that's all we've earned, then that's where we belong. Just so long," she added with a devilish grin, "as we finish above Slytherin -- and Malfoy."
Ron shook his head. "Just once," he smiled wanly, "I want to know what it feels like to be the best at something. That's not easy when you're the youngest of six brothers. Sure, Ginny's younger than me," he conceded. "But it's different with her. She's the only girl, so there's really nothing for her to measure up to, y'know? Me, now..."
Ron's eyes took on a faraway look as they cast skyward searchingly.
"The day I met Harry on the Hogwarts Express, I had Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat..."
Ron's voice trailed off uncertainly. It was best not to elaborate as to the true nature of Scabbers. Most of the school remained ignorant of Ron's, Harry's and Hermione's connection to Sirius Black, in which Scabbers -- revealed to be an Animagus named Peter Pettigrew -- played no small part. And so long as Sirius remained a fugitive with the specter of Azkaban hanging over his head, better that that ignorance remain undispelled.
"Even now," Ron said gloomily, brandishing Harry's Firebolt meaningfully, "I'm only second best. If Harry weren't off working for Dumbledore on some secret mission involving You-Know-Who, I wouldn't be in this spot. I'd be up in the stands, where I belong, cheering Harry to victory."
"That's as may be," Cho said. "But Harry isn't here. You are. And when the Gryffindor team takes to the air tomorrow, you will be their Seeker.
"Now, shall we carry on with our practice? If you're as pathetic as you seem to think you are, then we shouldn't waste a minute, should we?"
The twinkle in Cho's eyes brought an unwilling grin to Ron's slightly pink face. He didn't know why he had spoken so candidly just now. None but Harry and Hermione had ever elicited such unrestrained forthrightness from him before.
"We won't need the Bludgers any more," Cho said, delicately steering the conversation back to the business at hand. "I'll Summon them back and box them up." Suiting deed to word, she drew her wand and pointed it toward the vast open space between the two sets of goalposts, where the twin Bludgers could be glimpsed darting about in search of unwary fliers to knock off their brooms.
"Pull in the Snitch while you're at it," Ron said, a look of steely determination hardening his features.
Cho's brow furrowed in momentary confusion before relaxing in concert with a smile of realization.
"I want to get it just right," Ron said firmly. "After what just happened a bit ago, I intend to have a little surprise waiting for Malfoy tomorrow."
Once the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch were safely put away, Cho walked to the bench at the edge of the field whereon sat the magical megaphone she had been using throughout their practice sessions -- the same one used by Lee Jordan to commentate the matches on game day. Megaphone in hand, Cho mounted her broom and, with a nod at Ron, shot into the air. Cho rose higher than Ron, enabling her to observe him from every angle. Once she was positioned, she began to shout instructions through the megaphone.
"Right, now," she directed, her magically-enhanced voice carrying easily to Ron's ears. "Tight grip. Forward just a little. Bit more. That's it." As Ron exploded into a blur of motion below her, Cho watched with unblinking eyes, the megaphone in her hand trembling from her excitement. "Not yet!" she shouted as her voice reverberated from the stands. "Hold it...hold it...NOW!"
Cho felt as if her heart had stopped; then, a moment later, she let out a whoop of triumph and unbridled delight. She nosed her broomstick groundward, touching the grass lightly as Ron did an ecstatic loop overhead before swooping down with surgical precision and landing feather-light in front of her. As Cho clapped her hands with delight, her face beaming, Ron ran forward and threw his arms around her.
"I'm going to do it!" Ron barked savagely. "I'm going to show Malfoy! I'm going to show them all!"
Ron pulled back from Cho, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She smiled up at him from her diminutive height; it was, Ron thought suddenly, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Their eyes met, and it was as if an unseen hand had flicked a switch in Ron's brain, extinguishing all cogent thought like a candle flame. With no slightest thought to guide him, he acted. In one smooth, unhurried motion, Ron bent and covered Cho's mouth with his. Their lips melded for the barest moment before Cho jerked back as if stung by a hornet. Her dark, limpid eyes were wide with something Ron could later describe only as horror. Petrified by the unexpectedness of his action, Ron could only look on in a state of near shock as Cho tore herself away and bolted across the field, her broomstick lying forgotten on the grass.
Author's Note: Be back next time when Seekers Weasley and Malfoy square off in the battle for the Quidditch Cup and the House Championship. Reserve your seat early. I hear the whole school is turning out. See you then.