THE MANOR
Chapter 5 – Quidditch Trials
It was Sunday, just after noon, and Hermione reluctantly gathered her books into her bag, and headed off to the Great Hall. The first weekend back was used for Quidditch trials. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had the pitch yesterday, today, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Slytherin should have already finished. They had taken the pitch in the morning, which meant that Gryffindor was due to start in less than an hour.
Ron had been very nervous the whole of yesterday night, constantly muttering keeper tactics to himself and staring at his broomstick with an expression that hovered between grim determination and blatant fear. Harry and Ron had decided to watch the Quidditch trials for all the Houses, both yesterday and today, so Hermione had seen little of them this weekend. Today, she hadn't spoken to them since breakfast. Of course, they had made her promise to come and watch the Gryffindor trials ('for moral support,' Ron had explained earnestly) and also to bring down some form of sustenance so they wouldn't have to leave the Quidditch pitch for such mundane matters as lunch.
Thus it was that Hermione now found herself gathering food for the two boys. She slapped together some ham and cheese sandwiches, wrapped the whole lot together with a napkin, and headed down to the Quidditch pitch.
The first week back at school, she mused as she walked, had definitely reflected the growing concern of the staff towards the danger of Voldemort's return. Normally, teachers would be hard on students at this time of their education, since it was their fifth year, the year they took their O.W.L.s, or Ordinary Wizarding Levels. But the teachers were extra tough on this particular lot of fifth year (which after all contained Harry Potter), with a new emphasis on both O.W.L.s and protection against dark magic.
One of Hermione's favourite subjects, Transfiguration, had begun a little unusually. Professor McGonagall had begun by asking if anybody was interested in becoming an animagus in the future, a process that was extremely difficult, but she had asked the question seriously, eyes grave.
Of course, Hermione had been one of those who raised her hand.
'I must warn you,' Professor McGonagall had said soberly, glasses perched on her nose, 'that most of you will not succeed. However, some people find it naturally easier than others, but in the past, not many have taken the risk or effort to become Animagus. There is a pressing need for these people, and they must be found.' She did not bother explaining the need. She didn't really need to.
After the opening talk on Animagi, Professor McGonagall proceeded to teach them how to transfigure objects like hair ribbons or ties into thick, hard cord or rope. Then, she taught them how to tie knots. 'This particular skill can come in useful,' she added mildly, as Neville proceeded to tie himself into knots.
The first lesson in Charms involved the class learning how to use the Stunning spell, which Harry, Ron and Hermione already knew. It was fun though, with the entire class shouting 'Stupefy!' at bunches of Cornish Pixies. It was a far more successful class than Gilderoy Lockhart's second year class had been, although the pixies still managed to grab Neville Longbottom by the rear and hoist him up near the ceiling until Hermione managed to stun them, thus causing Neville to crash into the floor with a painful sounding thud, giving the class a sheepish grin as they all whooped in laughter.
Potions also seemed different. Snape marched into class purposefully, and did not even bother berating Neville, who dropped his textbook in fear at the sight of the dark-haired professor.
'This year, you will be working towards your O.W.L.s,' Snape said, black eyes regarding them all with an odd amount of solemnity. 'Which means, of course, you will be boosting your very essential knowledge of potions. Poisons, antidotes, healing brews, energy draughts … everything you learn can help you in your life,' he said sharply. 'It is vital,' here, the professor even sounded impassioned, 'that every single one of you,' his eyes roved over the Potions class, even to the Slytherins, 'pay attention.'
Severus Snape's eyes flickered over to Draco Malfoy and his two cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Hermione noticed the wariness in the way he regarded those three Slytherins who were lounging indolently at their bench, and understood this caution at once. Snape had warned the students against danger, but had never once mentioned Voldemort for a simple reason. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had Death-Eater parents. Death-Eaters who thought Snape was still loyal to their 'cause.' A cause Severus Snape wasn't particularly fond about. It would be dangerous, though, not to maintain his façade in front of the sons of the Death-eaters. Children could be very useful informers as times.
Hermione had very strong suspicious that Snape had taken up his old job of spying for Dumbledore, which she had to admit, was very courageous of the greasy-haired professor, if not extremely foolish.
'Today, you will be working on the antidote for the Draught of Living Death. The draught is a popular potion used by … certain factions within the wizarding world,' Snape said blandly. 'You will work in pairs.'
'I want to work with you, Hermione,' Ron said automatically.
'And make me work alone?' Harry said instantly in response.
'You're better at Potions than me,' Ron said instantly.
Harry laughed incredulously. 'Snape hates my guts. Any skill I have doesn't matter to him.'
Hermione broke up their argument, hiding her amusement. 'Forget it,' she told them with finality. 'I'm working with Neville,' she headed off to the forgetful boy who was absolutely dismal at Potions.
Ron gave Harry a careful look. 'Is something going on between Neville and Hermione?'
Harry cracked up, bent over with laughter, then tried to turn his laughter into coughs as Snape's watchful eyes swung over to him from their position at the blackboard.
Hermione discovered to her chagrin that working with Neville meant she was working at the bench next to Malfoy, virtually standing next to him. The blond Slytherin was unbearable in Potions, where he always seemed determined to be as antagonistic as possible to the Gryffindors. She scowled, watching him lounge at the bench with Goyle. While the rest of the class bustled to and fro, collecting ingredients, setting up cauldrons, doing every quickly before attracting the wrath of the Potions master, he spoke up.
'Professor,' Draco Malfoy said, voice lazy, not very loud, yet definitely audible, causing as everyone in the class to momentarily stop and listen. 'Shouldn't we also be working on the actual Draught of Living Death?'
Snape's black eyes flashed, as he swallowed visibly, Adam's apple bobbing. 'The Draught is dangerous to brew,' he said curtly.
'But so is the antidote,' Malfoy said, voice innocent, yet the reply also held a tone that verged on arrogant superiority. 'The antidote is much more dangerous to brew than the Draught.' Snape stared at his (formerly) favourite student, his face carefully blank as he attempted to formulate a response to that accurate statement which would not offend the Death-Eater spawn.
Hermione couldn't resist comment. 'You seem extraordinarily well-versed on how to brew the Draught of Living Death, Malfoy,' she murmured to him under her breath.
'I read, Granger,' Malfoy hissed.
'At Knockturn Alley, of course,' Hermione added, mildly.
'Of course,' Malfoy said sarcastically.
'The Draught is not a course requirement for this year,' Snape said at last.
Yeah, Hermione thought, but neither is the antidote. It was obvious Malfoy was also very aware of that fact, but he stopped his words, grey eyes perplexingly unreadable, as he looked steadily at the Slytherin Head of House.
In Herbology, Professor Sprout sought to inform them on dangerous plants of Britain, and how to avoid or overcome their evil purposes. In Astronomy, Professor Sinistra showed them how the stars could be used for them to discover their location should they happen to be lost in the middle of the Sahara Desert. In History of Magic, the class fell asleep promptly as usual.
'Hermione!' The call jolted Hermione out of her reverie, and she saw Harry and Ron waving at her from where they sat in the stands at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, watching the Slytherin tryouts that had not yet finished.
'Here's your lunch,' Hermione handed over their sandwiches, which they devoured hungrily.
'Slytherin's running late,' Harry observed to Hermione.
Hermione nodded casually dressed hopefuls, zooming amongst two green-clad figures who seemed to be permanent Slytherin team members. She could make out clearly the slight figure of the green-robed Draco Malfoy, perched on his Nimbus 2001. He appeared to be directing the others about, voice just slightly emphasised with a light Sonorus charm.
'Malfoy's captain of the Slytherin team this year,' Harry added.
'Really?' Hermione said, not terribly surprised nor interested. 'Is that good news or bad news?'
'Bad,' Harry said glumly. 'I've been watching his reactions to the trials. He's being really cruel – I wouldn't ever do what he's doing – but he's dumped some members of the Slytherin team who weren't very good, and looking for new players who are much better. Some of the ones he's interested in are girls as well, especially for the Chaser spots.' This seemed to break the traditional all-male Slytherin Quidditch team mould, as well as the fact that previously, under the direction of Marcus Flint, the team had consisted of the big and the bulky … not the skilled and the fast.
Hermione nodded. It looked like Malfoy was going for skill, rather than intimidating looks.
Harry left her then, going down to begin organising the Gryffindor tryouts. To Harry's immense surprise, the five seventh years on the team had announced that he was to be the Captain of the Gryffindor team.
'Me?' Harry had said, flabbergasted, in dumbstruck astonishment on Thursday night.
Angelina nodded. 'We thought it would be better, because if any of us became captain, we'd have to leave next year. That means, any long-term strategies and so on wouldn't really be really implemented by us,' she explained seriously.
'We also had trouble deciding which of us should get the job,' Fred added. 'I mean, you can't choose between us two,' he pointed to him and George. 'And the girls are really the same in Quidditch skills.'
Harry had accepted eventually, after the Weasley twins threatened to test their new product (Chocolate Coins) on him. They tested them anyway, causing Harry to walk about the common room that night with the sound of jingling coins coming from his stomach, to the hilarity of the others.
Finally, the hopeful Slytherins were finished with the field, and they wearily changed and made their way back to the school.
'Great, we can start,' Harry said, nodding, satisfied.
Ron looked visibly green.
Draco Malfoy sauntered over calmly, and took a seat in the stands, near the back, feet up on the seat in front of him, relaxed. He had just showered (his wet hair clung to his head) and changed in the Slytherin changing rooms, and was now in his usual Hogwarts black.
Harry and Ron both scowled. 'Why does he have to be here,' Ron asked. He didn't look at all happy about having Malfoy watch him try out.
Harry turned pleading eyes to Hermione. 'Couldn't you go and keep an eye on him or something?'
Hermione sighed, and reluctantly nodded as she stood up. Inside, she was groaning at the prospect of putting up with Malfoy all afternoon. But she couldn't refuse Harry. As she made her way slowly to Malfoy, she considered the situation. It wouldn't be that bad. Yes, Malfoy would be nasty, but as long as she could keep him preoccupied enough to not shout nasty comments to Ron, it would be worth it. And she could ask him about the Abrax– Pegasus, she mentally corrected herself.
'What's up, Granger,' Malfoy asked, voice resigned, as Hermione sat down next to him.
'What are you doing here?' Hermione asked as she plonked her books down.
'Watching,' Malfoy replied calmly. 'It's not forbidden is it? I noticed Potter and Weasley were watching us.'
There weren't many people in the stands yet. Most people were still finishing lunch. However, many Gryffindors would probably turn up, especially the Quidditch fans and friends of those trying out. Other houses, especially Quidditch captains of other houses, would also watch. So Malfoy, theoretically, had plenty of reasons to watch Gryffindor's trials.
'Aren't you going to go back and get something to eat first?' Hermione asked him.
'No,' was his short reply. He wasn't looking at her as he talked, but was watching ahead, eyes fixed on Harry and Ron.
'Aren't you hungry?' Hermione persisted. 'You should really go and get something to eat after the trials all morning.'
'I can't be bothered, Granger,' he said. 'And neither should you.'
Hermione took out the remnants of Harry and Ron's lunch. She had overestimated the sizes of their appetites, since Ron hadn't been all that hungry due to his nervousness. 'Have a sandwich,' she offered him.
He gave her a dubious look.
'Have you done anything to them?' he asked her suspiciously.
'Of course not,' Hermione said impatiently.
He picked one up, and inspected it. 'Ham,' he said with distaste.
'Oh I'm sooo sorry,' Hermione said, annoyed. 'I forgot Mr-Rich-and-Spoilt-Brat would be picky about his food.'
Malfoy looked equally annoyed with her. 'I don't eat meat,' he snapped. Apparently, he also didn't like being called a spoilt brat.
Hermione raised a brow. 'You're a vegetarian?' she asked, puzzled.
He glanced away. 'I don't like killing animals just to satisfy my own hunger,' he said flatly.
'You're a vegetarian!' Hermione repeated incredulously.
He laughed, the sound pleasantly surprising. 'Don't tell Potter and Weasley,' he said, half-pleading, half-joking. Seeing Hermione's astonishment hadn't faded, he spoke again. 'My mother's one too,' he supplied helpfully.
'No wonder she's so skinny,' Hermione just said enviously. She had seen Narcissa Malfoy at the Quidditch World Cup – a beautiful, slim woman dressed in designer robes.
'You're not exactly fat, Granger,' Malfoy said dryly.
Hermione blinked. Was Draco Malfoy just being nice to her? 'But I'm not exactly model thin like your mother is,' she pointed out reasonably.
He shrugged. 'She doesn't try to be thin,' he said, half-defensively. 'If she went on a diet of cake, chips, Florean Fortesque's ice-cream, and everything fattening for a year, she would still stay the way she is.'
Hermione nodded, understanding. She knew people like that too. 'So is your father a vegetarian?' Hermione inquired.
He gave her a rather bleak smile. 'Father likes his steak rare.' Of course. 'It annoys Mother no end.'
'So you don't like killing an animal for no reason at all,' she said slowly. 'But you'd gladly kill people.'
This made him sit up. 'I've never killed a person,' he looked directly at her, his grey eyes surprisingly piercing in their honesty.
'Really?' Hermione asked doubtfully.
'Yet,' he sat back again, making Hermione shake her head in disgust, not sure if he was serious or not.
'But your parents are running around killing people,' Hermione refused to drop the topic. 'Your mother doesn't like killing animals, but she'd gladly kill a person.'
That did it.
Draco Malfoy stood up, his eyes flashing furiously, face white with anger. Hermione was half afraid. 'Don't you dare say anything about my mother,' he spat out to Hermione. And with that, he stood, and stalked away from a shocked Hermione.
'That was brilliant,' Ron gasped in admiring amazement as he came up to Hermione. 'How did you get him to leave?'
'Good work,' Harry chimed in.
Hermione looked down, a little guiltily. She wasn't sure what she had said to have made Draco Malfoy so furious, but was vaguely certain that Malfoy was quite emotionally attached to his mother. It made her feel somewhat uncomfortable for insulting his mother just to get him to leave, even though, she told herself, she hadn't been planning to get him to just get up and leave.
She sighed, as Ron spoke. 'We're starting now,' Ron said, voice excited, hand clearly trembling.
Hermione nodded.
Although only a keeper position was needed that year, the fact that five out of seven players were going to leave next year meant that some forethought was needed. Harry had decided to try out positions for reserve Chasers and Beaters seriously, and would begin training them in earnest this year, so that next year, they would be ready to play. As a result, many younger students were hopping about, eagerly awaiting the commencement of the trials since there was a real chance that they could become part of next year's team.
While Harry went down to the field with the others to begin, Hermione took out her work which she had naturally brought down to the pitch with her. She sighed again, and began studying and scribbling, but every now and then, her thoughts would meander through her conversation with Draco Malfoy.
A few minutes later, she sat, lost in thought, considering Malfoy. He seemed so … so unusual. On the outside, he acted like a typically callous Slytherin, insulting Muggleborns and Muggles, and declaring open war on Gryffindor House. But there was something else under all that bravado. His affectionate respect for Pegasus. His care for his mother. His denial of anything to do with Knockturn Alley and all its connections. The fact that he was a vegetarian.
Hermione giggled at that thought. She couldn't imagine Voldemort being a vegetarian. She imagined Voldemort shouting 'don't kill that poor little fluffy white rabbit!' all the while casting the death curse on whole groups of innocent people, and couldn't help laughing quietly to herself. But then again, Voldemort was insanely mad. Hitler, after all, was very caring about animals, but not people.
But Malfoy had laughed, smiled, and seemed different at times. When he had been on Pegasus. When he had begged her not to tell Harry and Ron of his eating habits. Even his triumph at beating her in Arithmancy had lacked his usual malice.
'Hermione! How was I?' Ron was suddenly in front of her, a wide smile on his face.
Hermione blinked. Ron had finished? She hadn't even noticed her best friend beginning(!), her thoughts so preoccupied with a certain blond Slytherin.
'Er, you looked good so far as I could tell,' she said cautiously. 'But you know me, I know nothing about Quidditch so I couldn't really tell,' she pretended to play off on her stupidity.
Ron bought it, not surprisingly, which made Hermione just a tad bit scornful. Of course she knew something about Quidditch. She had gone to watch the World Cup, she had been around Viktor Krum for a fair while, even taken the world-famous Seeker to the Yule Ball … how could she not know anything?
However, Hermione smiled and nodded as Ron rambled on about the Quidditch trials. Ginny was also trying out, and Hermione nodded approvingly when she noticed Ginny whizzing about the pitch with competent ease. After all, with five Quidditch mad brothers, how could she be anything but?
When Ginny had finished, she stepped off the pitch.
'Congrats, Ginny,' Harry said, smiling to the petite red-head. 'You did very well.'
The praise made Ginny's face glow bright red, and clash terribly with her hair.
The Quidditch trials finished at about five o'clock, whereupon Harry announced the results to those still waiting. Ron, of course, had been made Keeper amidst many congratulations. Ginny was one of the new Reserve Chasers, as was little Dennis Creevey. Of course, this meant that Colin Creevey had to take a photo of his brother with Harry to send home to his dad. Everyone was pretty happy, especially the Weasley twins who were overjoyed at their younger siblings' successes, and in general, disappointments were minimal as the Gryffindors trudged back up to get ready for dinner in the Great Hall.
As they walked back, Hermione noticed that Harry's face was flushed with happiness. The carefree Quidditch afternoon had clearly relaxed him – Hermione had never seen Harry so happy for a long time ago, as he discussed Quidditch tactics with Ron, surrounded by friends and those who loved him. She felt a surge of fondness inside her for the messy-haired boy.
There was a barking sound behind them then, and the three stopped, to see a large black dog. Sirius Black, Harry's godfather.
'Snuffles?' Harry asked, voice confused.
The black dog barked in acknowledgment, and with a jerk of his head, indicated for Harry to follow. As Hermione and Ron moved as to go with him, the dog shook his head, and barked again.
'I think only you're meant to follow,' Hermione said, eyeing Sirius and rapidly analysing the situation. Sirius nodded his great shaggy head.
'Okay,' Harry said hesitantly, and the blithe air about him began to diminish. 'I'll see you two later, right?'
Hermione and Ron nodded, and went back to the school without Harry. Harry returned just in time for dinner and sat down next to Hermione.
'Are you alright?' Hermione asked quietly.
He nodded and slowly began eating.
Hermione took a sip of her pumpkin juice. 'What was it about?' she inquired, voice low. Harry didn't look too talkative, and she didn't want to risk making him upset.
He tried to shrug. 'Nothing much.' His green eyes, though, spoke volumes. He had clearly been pulled right down from his Quidditch high back to the real world. Hermione suspected strongly that Sirius's urgency to speak with Harry had been related in some way to Lord Voldemort.
Hermione cast Harry a level look, which he returned calmly. His insistence on keeping silent about his troubles hurting Hermione, who only wanted to help and alleviate his problems.
