Hogwarts Gets Wild!
Machiavella of Kingsport
Chapter 2: The Quidditch Tryouts
The next day, Harry was so tired he slogged his way through every class, and came close to failing a potions review test. (Snape seemed to have increased on the unpleasantness scale to about 9.9 out of 10. Harry suspected it was because he and Sirius, Harry's godfather, had been forced by Dumbledore to become actual allies against Voldemort and the dark side.) Snape passed back his test with a 1-, accompanied by comments:
In the future, Mr. Potter, I expect you will keep your head out of the clouds and use your brains in class!—Severus Snape
Harry stewed silently as the bell rang and he hurried over to Defense Against the Dark Arts, cursing his Potions professor under his breath. He slid into a seat between Hermione and Ron, saying a rushed greeting to Neville Longbottom, who seemed to have lost a lot of weight over the summer holidays. He was taller and leaner now, and had looks along the line of former Hogwarts student Cedric Diggory. Harry was mildly surprised, but hadn't a chance to say anything before the professor clunked in—Alastor Moody.
"Moody?" Ron muttered in utter disbelief. "I thought he said he was only teaching for one year!"
"Guess Dumbledore changed his mind, since Vol—I mean, You-Know-Who—came back," Harry whispered. "Safety precautions and all."
"Of course…I see why. Logical," Hermione agreed.
The whispers died down as Moody hobbled his way to his desk.
"Welcome back," He greeted them. His eyes shifted around the classroom, looking at the faces which he had never had the chance to meet. Last year, a son of a ministry member, Barty Crouch, who was a Death-Eater, had disguised himself as Moody when Moody was hired for the job, and had spent the whole year teaching the students about the three illegal curses. Dumbledore had discovered him one week before the school year ended, the night Voldemort rose again, and a dementor had administered upon Crouch the Kiss of Death. The real Alastor Moody had been found locked up in a chest, and apparently, Dumbledore had hired him for another year. "Since I never had the opportunity to meet any of you, I am going to take roll call, and when I say your name, raise your hand."
"Brown, Lavender."
She raised her hand, and also asked a question. "Could you please…um…take out that…that eye? It's…kind of creepy."
"I'm sorry, Miss Brown, but it is essential that I have it. You will just have to ignore it. Granger, Hermione."
And down the list he went, finishing with 'Weasley, Ronald'.
"Today I will be speaking to you about Aurors—Dark Wizard hunters. I will be showing you a number of devices that are used for lie detection, et cetera."
Harry's mood brightened at the prospect. Having been in the fake Moody's office a couple of times the last year, he had only seen a small number of the detection devices, among which was a giant sneakoscope.
The class groaned collectively when the bell rang, and everyone talked about the class on their way to the dining hall for lunch.
"Harry, Ron, I think I've found my dream career!" Hermione stated, grinning. "I want to be an Auror!"
"Well, bully for you. Put Krum in Azkaban for me, then," Ron muttered through clenched teeth, his face flushed with annoyance. Harry shot him a look.
"Oh, you shut up about Krum! He's a very kind person!" Hermione snapped, her brows furrowed. "I just don't understand your unholy obsession with having your vengeance upon him. What's he done to you that's so bad?"
Ron mumbled unintelligibly and stomped to the other end of the table, crimson and fuming. "A bit insane, isn't he, lately," Harry commented as he sat down across from Neville.
"Tell me about it…" Neville replied. "Just last night in the dorms, he accused me of flirting with you, Hermione, as though he was really jealous or something."
"Puh—he's seriously got problems," Hermione muttered, blowing a strand of her bushy brown hair out of her face. Lola slid in to the left of Harry.
"So what'd you think of that Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Harry?"
He flushed crimson. "Pretty good," he mumbled. "What about you?"
"Oh, I really liked that mirror. And that sneakoscope. Weird thing. Wicked cool."
"I've got a sneakoscope in my trunk in the dormitory, but it's smaller. My friend Ron gave it to me a couple Christmases ago."
Lola spooned some chicken pot pie onto her plate. "Really? I'd love to see it sometime." She, however, based upon the flirty look on her face, looked as though she might be interested in doing other things in Harry's dorm room. Or at least, Harry hoped…he quickly stuffed a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth to disguise the fact that his mouth was still hanging open. Lola continued to talk. "So, wait, Harry—you're the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, right? And the team needs a keeper?"
"Ayuh," he replied through a mouthful of potato. He swallowed. "Why? Would you like to try out tonight? Because there's no practice after today, until Monday next week."
"Yeah, I'd be delighted to. Is a Firebolt okay for my broom?" She asked, grinning her huge white smile again.
"Of course! That's what, I've got, by the way."
Hermione nudged him. "Harry, is it just me, or did Neville suddenly get cute?" She whispered, grinning devilishly. "Look."
Harry unglued his eyes from Lola's face and looked across the table where Neville sat. Ginny was most blatantly flirting with him, batting her eyes like he was Hugh Grant. Neville seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it, letting her sit in his lap and staring open-mouthed while she chattered.
"So she got over me, I guess," Harry chuckled.
"It's hilarious! Remember last year, at the Yule Ball, they went together, and Ginny hated every minute of it because people were making fun of her for dancing with a fatso? Now look at her, she's just throwing herself at him! I'll bet Fred and George will torment her for the rest of her life for this…"
"Neville, you dirty dog, c'mere and let me see that gorgeous smile of yours…" Ginny tousled his hair and flashed him a glamorous grin, and Neville turned scarlet.
"Oh, Harry, you can't be jealous of him?" Lola turned his attention back to her, pouting. "You're so much more handsome than he is…"
Harry, elated, made a mental note to look in the mirror that night as Hermione snorted into her beef brisket, and temporarily forgot about Cho Chang, who was narrowing her eyes at him from the next table over.
Despite the normal hairy, poison-fanged creatures Hagrid usually managed to procure, Harry missed Care of Magical Creatures that afternoon. Malfoy caught up to him in the hallway. "Looks like your giant friend finally came to his wits and quit, Potter," He said nastily. "Missing him already? I'll bet he's forgotten about you and he's off gallivanting with his giant girlfriend from Beauxbatons…"
"Oh, stuff a sock in it, Malfoy." Harry shoved his way past and stomped up the stairs to the North tower, where he had Divination. He would have given anything, at the moment, to rid the class of the Slytherins, but he couldn't very well complain to Dumbledore about it. Harry was astonished, however, to see his professor Trelawney, and all mutinous thoughts escaped his mind at that moment.
Professor Trelawney sat in one of her fat poufs, sipping tea, which was normal of her…but her hair, dyed a most horrid shade of mauve, matched the rest of her pink-and-black costume. "Er, Professor?" Harry said timidly.
"Yes, my dear?" She seemed to refrain herself from predicting Harry's most dreadful and torturous death at the moment.
"Not meaning to be offensive, or anything, but what's with your clothes?"
"Oh...I…just needed a…erm…change of style, Mr. Potter." She shook her silver tresses airily as she stood up. "Do be a dear and…give my greetings to Sevvie—er, Severus."
Harry shook his head in a bewildered state, trying to remember if Trelawney and Snape had ever shared any miniscule scale of friendship. It was definitely strange…Ron chose a spot with Harry, but didn't talk at all. Harry supposed he was still mad at Hermione from lunch. The class fell silent as Trelawney began to speak.
"My dears, this term we will be doing a large section on signs of the zodiac, and how people of the different signs interact with each other, and how their day-to-day lives match with their signs. Take for example, me, a Taurus"— at this Ron and Harry exchanged doubtful looks—"And your Potions master, Severus Snape, a Capricorn." Not only were Harry and Ron's eyebrows raised at Snape's sign—but they had to hide their laughter beneath dry, hacking coughs. They drowned out the rest of the professor's speech.
"What is her obsession with Snape, I wonder?" Harry whispered, amused. "I mean, she can't fancy him, can she?"
"What, like you and that Lola bit?"
"Oh, come now, I wasn't talking about her," Harry muttered, blushing.
"Okay, okay," Ron snickered. "But it sure as hell would be hilarious if Trelawney fell head over heels for Snape. Wonder how he'd react…"
"I FEEL NOTHING OF THE SORT FOR SEVERUS SNAPE!" Trelawney exploded, her dreamy, relaxed state vanishing, replaced with uncharacteristic rage and embarrassment. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil both looked horrified and highly affronted; meanwhile Seamus and Dean both erupted into snorts of mirth. They apparently had overheard Ron and Harry's conversation. Trelawney was at this point red in the face and hyperventilating. She collapsed back into her pouf, eyeing the class beadily. "Do you know, my dears, what I saw in my orb last night?"
"What, nude pictures of Snape?" Ron whispered amidst giggles.
Harry smacked his head down on the table into his folded arms and shook with laughter.
"My dears, I saw bloody, raging massacres at Hogwarts! I saw horrifying deaths and uprisings of evil! I saw CORRUPTION, LIES, GREED, AND LUST FOR POWER!" She bellowed, now stalking about in front of the fire. Her pink hair and clothing now clashed horribly with her blotchy purple face. Yet somehow, Harry and Ron still seemed to find the scene utterly hilarious…
After dinner, Harry remembered again that it was the Gryffindor quidditch team tryouts. He raced to his dormitory, unlocked the chest at the foot of his bed, and grabbed his firebolt. Dashing down the stairs and out to the quidditch field, he was breathless and found assembled there Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Fred, George, and three new faces—Lola, Duncan Creevey, and Dean Thomas. Of course, he knew who the last three were, and why they were there…tryouts for the position of keeper. Harry vaguely remembered that he was captain, though the title was never officially bestowed upon him.
"Right then, guys, are we ready?" He asked, winded, and blushed furiously as Lola gave him a wink. Duncan was fairly jumping with excitement to see him; he and is older brother Colin rather worshipped him, and had their own little Harry Potter fan club. Dean waved shyly; Harry supposed it was because he had never really expressed an interest in the game.
"Ready when you are," Katie replied.
"Yeah. Right then, you three, let's see what you've got."
The three potential keepers stood there staring at him. Harry's mind went blank. Was he mute or something? Then he reminded himself—got to get the quaffle!
"Er, I'll be right back, I've got to go get the quaffle…" Harry blushed crimson again as Lola giggled discreetly behind a hand. He returned minutes later with the chest of game balls and retrieved the quaffle. "You ready? Let's have Dean first," he suggested, trying not to favor Lola, afraid someone might notice his chronic attraction to her. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia soared into the air with Dean as opposing chasers while Dean took his spot by the three goal posts. Harry threw the quaffle into the air; Alicia caught it and immediately passed it to Katie. The three chasers made a 'V' shape flying towards the middle hoop, and Dean lowered himself onto his broom, preparing to block. Angelina hurled the quaffle instead to the left hoop, and Dean raced to it, just barely beating it back into open space with the front end of his Clean Sweep 40. The chasers hurtled back at him, revolving around in a vertical circle, passing the quaffle up every time it reached the chaser on the bottom. Dean swerved back and forth in front of the goalposts, readying himself for the attack.
Harry was jerked from his reveries in the air by George's question. "Potter, you keeping time? If you aren't, we are." He nodded over at Fred. "They've got five seconds."
Harry watched as Dean twirled in the air on his stick, failing to block the quaffle. Harry blew the whistle around his neck. "Time's up! Come on down, Dean!"
Dean glided down, landing softly on the neatly clipped grass. "How'd I do?"
"You did pretty well, Dean, good job," Harry congratulated him, thinking simultaneously, What am I doing? I'm not a judge! Who am I kidding? But hey, he was good all the same. "Uh…Lola, would you like to go next?"
She smiled and shrugged. "I guess. Wish me luck, Harry," she drawled with another wink as she kicked into the air. He watched in amazement as she looped three times before spinning to a stop in front of the right hoop. Blowing the whistle, he asked Fred to keep time again. Angelina, still in possession of the quaffle, threw it carelessly at the middle hoop; Lola spun on her Firebolt, whacking the ball with the tail end of her broom. Katie caught the rebound, and passed it backward to Alicia, who flipped over to catch it, and then zoomed to the left, dropping the quaffle back to Angelina. She passed it to Alicia again who was now on the right, and she passed it toward the right hoop. Lola caught it deftly, throwing it far back to the other side of the field, scoring a goal in the middle hoop.
"Time's up!" Fred shouted, waving his watch. Lola sailed down, leaping off her broom five feet off the ground. She grinned at Harry.
"Well done," Harry breathed, meaning every syllable. "Well, Creevey, you're up! Good luck!"
"Thanks!" he squeaked in reply, a piano spread across his face as he wobbled off into the air on his Silver Arrow 245. Harry sighed as the tiny wizard took his place on the left hoop. However he wanted to be nice to Duncan, he knew the kid wasn't up to a real game as he blew the whistle. He had a sneaking suspicion as Katie hurried forward with the quaffle that Duncan was going to fall…
He wobbled. He cowered in fright as the three chasers bore down on him, readying himself for painful death—and spun dizzily back to earth. He shook himself off, and wove his way toward Harry, and he looked a bit nauseous. "Harry? I don't…I don't…" don't think I—I can do it…I feel sick." His small body gave a shudder, and he collapsed to the ground and vomited.
The poor kid! "Erm…I'll run and get Madam Pomfrey, shall I?" Harry asked, staring blankly at the unconscious figure curled up at his feet.
"Don't worry about it," Fred and George chorused as the three chasers slowly flew to the ground.
"Is he going to be okay?" Angelina asked in a worried tone.
"Jeesh, I hope he's all right…" Alicia muttered, massaging her forehead with a free hand.
"Must be afraid of heights…" Katie added quietly. "Well…I guess we'll all be going, you can talk to the keepers."
They walked off toward the entrance to the lockers, their robes trailing behind them. Harry turned to the expecting Dean and Lola.
"Erm…for starters. You both did very well. Nice use of the tail, Lola, and you had good control of your broom, Dean. Realize that my decision is not based on favoritism"—here, Lola gave Harry yet another rogue-ish wink, smiling deviously. He tried desperately to ignore her. "—And so whomever is the new Gryffindor seeker is chosen based upon skill level." He took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't be hurting anyone's feelings. "I thought that…well…Lola is the new keeper," he finished quietly. Dean looked hardly downtrodden. He grinned at Lola.
"Hey, good work up there, I saw you. Liked the spinning and such. Great stuff." Dean patted her shoulder appreciatively.
"You too, Dean," Lola returned, smiling kindly.
"Well, best be off," Dean said, turning to the entrance as he spotted Madam Pomfrey in the distance. Harry noticed that Duncan hadn't stirred a bit since he had collapsed. He worriedly hope that he was all—
Lola kissed him squarely on the lips, and backed away slowly, grinning. Harry stood rigid, poleaxed. He stared into space as Lola flounced off to the lockers.
"Wow…"
"Do help me get out the stretcher, dear," Madam Pomfrey said brusquely, rolling up the arms of her sleeves. When Harry didn't move, she prodded him. "Well?"
Harry stood in the spot for a long time, staring at the golden sunset. "Wow…"
TO BE CONTINUED…