A/N: My lovely readers, the reason I write. Alas, another chapter is here. I only write for you! So here is it, not such a long awaited chapter, more like short waited. Please applaud for Angie, for without her, this would have taken even longer, extremely long, because, well, spelling and I have a hard time getting along. We just never agree. But, we're going through counseling right now. But anyway, I give you thus. Remember Read and Review!

Chapter 7:

~Quidditch Trials~

Harry walked down to the pitch the early October morning expecting to have a regular Quidditch practice. Expectations often fall short.

The lake glistened orange and red, twinkling from the rays of the sun. Birds flew overhead, singing their songs of morning. The Forbidden Forest loomed ahead of him, dark and mysterious. The Quidditch pitch ahead of him stood out in all its green glory, much different from the last year's hedge decorations.

Anger coursed through his veins, remembering the previous year's fanatics. The ridiculous competition to get killed just didn't seem to strike his fancy this year. However tempting getting chased by dragons, almost drowning with the mermaids and getting severely hurt by many creatures not even known to most of mankind was, Harry would rather stay steady on his own two feet this year, or at the very least, on his broom. The harder he tried to forget about Cedric, the more his face floated in his nightmares, surrounded by gleaming green light and high trilling laughter.

Hopping onto his broom to clear the many thoughts that emerged in his head, Harry flew around the pitch circling higher and higher, waiting for the team and the reserves to come down to the pitch.

Rapidly, he dived. Straight down towards the pitch, the green of the grass came closer and closer until there was only 3 feet between him and the hard ground. He pulled up. Hovering only a few feet from the ground, Harry flew around the pitch, when, out of nowhere, something glistening caught his eye.

Harry, being the curious person that he was, and with all the eccentric things going on, decided to check out what it was. The glistening object was long, with a slight curve in it. The handle was black, with a covered metal handle overtop. It was a sword. Whatever the reason was for a sword to be laying in the middle of the pitch, Harry didn't know. He floated a few feet above it. Then he gently reached down and picked it up. It was a fair weight, not so heavy that Harry couldn't pick it up, but Harry could name a few things that were lighter. Such as himself.

He landed on the ground, standing up straight, and he brandished the sword. It seemed to fit nicely in his hand, as if molded for it. Knowing that in the wizarding world, there was very rarely a thing called coincidence, he looked around, foolishly in a way, as if he expected to see someone who might have dropped it.

Slightly scared by its immediate appearance, he placed it back down. Probably the only words of good advice, if you called it that, he received from the Dursleys came floating back into his mind.

Don't trust anything.

But, upon deeper thought, Harry realized that if he indeed followed that advice, how would he know if he could even trust his friends. Then thinking deeper still, if he couldn't trust his friends, whom could he trust? Once he heard that trust was like a crystal vase, once it was broken, it was broken forever. Thinking back to the times when Ron let his jealousy get the best of him, that vase was almost broken, caught before it hit the floor, either that or Ron was very good at repairing charms. He reached down towards the sword again, holding it firmly in his left hand.

With his Firebolt in one hand and the sword in the other, he made his way over to the bundle of robes on the sideline of pitch. When he reached his robes, he sat down, studying the sword with apparent fascination. It gleamed as it battled with the sunlight.

Numerous questions flooded his brain, one obvious one stood out. 'How'd it get here?'

When voices behind him came dangerously close, he slipped the sword under his robes. He didn't feel like sharing his little secret with anyone at the moment. He stood up, broom in hand. Standing there was his team, the regular players and the reserves. He clapped his hands to get everybody's attention.

"Okay, as you can all see, this is our Quidditch team-" He was interrupted by whoops and catcalls from the Weasley twins. When he looked at them, they smiled sheepishly with mischievous looks in their eyes. Harry started pacing.

"I plan on having the best team this year. And since we are, without a doubt," he paused, applause coming from the group of people standing in front of him. "The best team in this league, I see no reason why we won't win the Quidditch Cup yet again."

He kicked off on his broom, hovering over his teammates. "Regular players over there," he pointed to the left goalposts "And reserves over there." He pointed to the right goalposts.

As the groups flew to each respective goalpost, Harry went down to the ground and opened the Quidditch box. Inside it was the Quaffle, resting peacefully in its place. The two Bludgers were straining with great extent to escape the binding that held them there. Harry muttered a spell under his breath.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

The box raised in the air, following Harry as he flew over to the Reserves side.

Floating before him was the reserves. In a group, he saw Ginny, Seamus and Dennis, the Chasers. To the left of the hovered Dean and Jen, the two Beaters, during scrimmages, who was actually was able to hit the Bludger and send it in the other direction. Sarah MacDonald was with them too, even though she tried out for a Chaser position, Harry thought her better suited in as a Keeper. But, to the left of this talented group, almost as if he thought he was above the rest of the team, was Ciaran.

It was completely obvious that he would get the Seeker position, for he beat out the competition by far, but his attitude was lacking something to be desired. He talked only if manners made it necessary. Other than that, his black eyes followed Harry wherever he went. A strange one, he was.

Even as Harry handed out the clubs to Dean and Jen, gave advice to the Chasers, and gave them all a pep talk, Ciaran's eyes followed him. Glistening with a mischievous gleam and a sneer pulled up at the corner of his mouth, his eyes penetrated into Harry, quiet wishes in his mind.

Harry flew back to the left goalposts, thoughts shooting through his mind. Maybe it was the sword, Ciaran, or the fact that, well, he was in charge of Gryffindor's Quidditch team. When he reached his destination, he surveyed his team. To the right were Katie, Angelina and Alicia; to the left of them were the Weasley twins, and to the left of them was Ron.

He looked unusually pale, perhaps it was from the height elevation, or maybe it was just the jittery feeling twisting and swirling in his stomach. As Harry looked over at him, he noticed that Ron looked like he was sick. Literally. Harry went to Ron.

"You don't look too well." Harry commented.

"Hmm, wonder why. Maybe because I'm about to play a game where it is extremely probable that I will receive a, erm, what's that word again, serious injury? And we all know how tame George and Fred are." Ron said this half jokingly.

"Ron," Harry said reassuringly, "I've played Quidditch for four years, well, technically three, and I'm still in one piece, besides, this is just a scrimmage, a practice."

"But Fred and George! Oh fine. If anything happens, I'm blaming you." With that, he flew to the goalpost.

Harry turned to the rest of the team. "Okay, I'm asking you to go easy on them, it's their first time play-"

Fred and George's loud, annoying, whining voices interrupted him. "Aw, that's no fun."

"Can't we just play a little bit rough?" George's hands displayed how much a little bit was, his and Harry's opinion of little were few and far between.

"No."

"Please." George said this in earnest, as if a child pleading for a sweet.

Harry gave him a silencing look, which made George quickly change his mind and he joined his brother at the goal posts.

Harry looked at the rest of the team floating there. "Let's play."

He whistled loudly and nodded towards the other side of the pitch, he turned around, releasing the Bludgers and taking the snitch in his hand.

"Wingardium descendatis."

He lowered the Quidditch box to the ground.

He flew to the center of the pitch, meeting Ciaran there; they flew around each other, not taking their eyes off the snitch or from the opposing member. Harry released his hold on the snitch.

It buzzed around them, shot through the middle, parting the space between the two Seekers. Then, it disappeared out of sight.

The game began.

Dennis quickly got towards Ron's goal, but was stopped by Alicia, who was conveniently passing by him. She threw it to Angelina, who threw it to Katie, who scored the first goal of the game. Ginny retrieved the Quaffle, soaring above everyone else. She swirled between Katie and Alicia, passing it rapidly to Dennis. He flew above the group and dropped it down to Seamus. Seamus flew up between Ron and scored the first goal for the Reserves.

The game flipped back and forth for quite a while, Harry and Ciaran looking for the snitch above the crowd. A flicker to the left of them, they both saw it at the same time. Harry flashed in that direction, Ciaran just a second behind him. Ciaran gave him a cold smile as he looked back.

Ciaran's Nimbus Two-thousand and one was not nearly as good as Harry's Firebolt, but he was just as good a flyer. He was even with Harry as they turned the corner of the pitch following the snitch. The snitch dropped, straight down towards the hard, green earth. Harry and Ciaran were right behind it. The ground came closer and closer, the snitch still directly in front of them. Suddenly it leveled out, a good five feet above the ground. Harry pulled up, Ciaran, was already horizontal with the earth. Harry zoomed ahead of him, with as much force as stretched elastic has when it is released. His hand reached out, grabbing the snitch, just before Ciaran's hand brushed it. The game was finished; the regular team had won, but just. The final score was a close game, the regular team 330, and the reserves 170. It was an even game before Harry had caught the snitch.

As everyone joined on the ground, Harry couldn't have been more impressed with the teams' effort. They had kept the opponent quite at bay, for after all, it was the reserves first time. Harry looked up; the sun was directly overhead.

"Good game everybody. Now, I think we all deserve to eat." The team all muttered their agreement, for everyone just wanted to shower and eat until they couldn't manage no more.

***

Harry walked into the Great Hall, feeling quite tired, even after the refreshing shower he had, and the delicious lunch he was about to have. He dragged himself towards Hermione and Ron, who seemed quite civil considering the amount of arguments they go through daily. He plopped down into his seat. His head was sagging on his shoulders, and exhaustion was evident on his face. He had certainly looked better at times in his life than he did now. Ron and Hermione were completely oblivious to their friend's despair. They continually chattered on to Harry, successfully handling a one-sided conversation, not noticing Harry's reluctance to talk. He had a lot on his mind, every thought seemed just as importance as the next: the sword, Quidditch, the amulet, and, of course, Ginny. Whether one was actually more important then the other, Harry couldn't decipher at the moment.

"Oi, Potter." A familiar voice drawled.

Harry sighed, burying his head in his hands. He did not feel like dealing with Malfoy's ego at the moment.

"Potter, I was talking to you." Malfoy's voice drew nearer. He came to a stop right behind Harry's back.

"Yes, I know that," He turned around to face Malfoy. He made himself smile sweetly. "I just didn't feel like wasting this precious air on you."

Malfoy sneered at him, clearly not remembering their last encounter. He twirled his wand between his fingers as if it was a baton. His eyes flashed with red again, anger showing within their depths.

"Care for a rematch?"

"No, not really, thanks though. Maybe another time?" Harry turned around back to Ron and Hermione.

Behind him, laughter and snickers were floating on the air, but instead of being directed at him, they were directed at Malfoy. Ron's eyes suddenly went wide, staring at Malfoy. Harry turned around to see Malfoy's wand pointing at him, directly between the eyes.

"Malfoy, what don't you understand, I don't feel like wasting my time on you."

Malfoy smiled, devoid of any humor or amusement, but a hard grin.

"You see Potter, I find time spent on you to be time well wasted." His eyes flashed with red again, but staying the blooded color. Electricity flashed in them, anger reflecting the crazed look.

Harry slowly pulled himself to his feet. Anger boiled through his veins. Buried feelings were now arising; anger and power flowed through him.

"Scared Potter?" Reflecting on their first duel.

"You wish."

He brought his wand up fast, a blur to the unaided eye. He muttered a banishing charm, sending tables flying back; yelps came from students not quick enough to get out of the way.

"Flamma Circilas!"

A circle of flames sprouted up around them. Before either of them got the chance to curse one another, a voice raised above their own.

"Expelliarmus!"

Professor Lehnor's voice was loud and clear. Both Harry and Malfoy were flown back over the flames and landed in a heap. Their wands rolled over the floor and rested at Professor Lehnor's feet.

"I think both of you have had enough time playing 'better wizard'." he said, amusement flashing through the stern look on his face. "10 points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin." With that, he gave the wands back to the rightful owner and left the Great Hall, a deafening silence following in his place.

***

It was 8 o'clock when Ginny sat upon her four-poster bed, thinking about the day. When she had found out that she made the Quidditch team, she had been ecstatic for two reasons. One, she would be on the Quidditch team, obviously, but the other was that she would be able to spend more time with Harry. Ever since their conversation about Sirius, she had thought of many questions that had been left unanswered. But being back in school hardly left an abundance of time for talking, well, at least not about the things she wanted to talk about. A knock on the dorms door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called out, hoping the person could hear her. The person evidently had heard her, and opened her door.

He stood there, black hair sticking up, weariness on his face. Pale green eyes looked at her, exhaustion creasing his once dynamic emerald orbs.

He walked over to her bed, sat on the end and looked at her.

"Hey Ginny. I was just thinking and I was wondering, do you want to talk?" Harry asked.

She at first smiled a timid grin, not wanting to show how eager she was. She pulled her knees up to her chest, giving him room to sit down more comfortably. He laid back, his now long legs hanging over the end. Drowsiness settling over him and Ginny both after such a long day, both tried to stay focused on the task of talking. Before either of them realized it, they both closed their eyes, and fell asleep. Neither of them had noticed yet, but Harry's medallion had changed.

TBC….

Special Thanks to:

IceChick1205- I'm sorry it took so long, but at long last, here it is.

Shdurrani- I plan to. Thanks for reviewing.

Blue Eyes- All will be told in due time, if I told you, what fun would that be?

TigerLily- Mysterious thing will pop up all over the place. Where would we be without that?

CyqnusCrux- Yes, your review was quite interesting, and helpful. Noble Harry isn't lasting long.

Angie Morse- What can I say to you, but hmm, Thank You!

IloveRupert13- Thanks for your many reviews. Let me tell you, that conflict is not going to be little for much longer.

Happy Reading.