Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. And the spells I used for Alex's lesson plan belong to Squaresoft. =D Or whoever made them.
Author's notes: No one reviewed my first chapter. I'm really upset about that. I was thinking that I should just not post this chapter, but I have some friends that I want to read it, since they can't now that we're out of school and they can't get their hands on the original, handwritten one. So... you out there! Ed, Kodee, Ashley, whoever else is reading this and knows me from school or family or maybe just meeting me, you better appreciate this!
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HARRY POTTER AND THE HAWK OF GRYFFINDOR
Chapter Two: The World's Smallest Quidditch Team
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"I want an essay on animal-to-animal transfiguration. 8 inches. That shouldn't be too hard, now should it?"
It was two weeks later, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in Transfiguration. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, they had learned the basic elemental spells, Fira, Aera, Watera, Thundara, and Blizzara. They had just finished learning Pancaea, which cured poison, and Esuna, which could heal mild amnesia, bad rashes, dizziness, burns, and frost bite, all at the same time.
Harry was gathering his books and parchment together when McGonagall spoke up.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I would like to speak to you."
Harry walked to the front of the classroom, and Hermione stood behind them, as though waiting for permission to stay from McGonagall. She stared at her.
"You may stay. Now Harry, the headmaster has reinstated your Quidditch privileges--"
"YES!!" Harry and Ron high-fived. McGonagall stared at them, then continued.
"However! Both beaters and all three chasers graduated." She paused, then corrected herself. "Well, the chasers graduated. So the team only has two people. Miss Weasley, Mr. Kirke, and Mr. Sloper all resigned at the end of last year. So you and Mr. Weasley here are the only members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
Harry and Ron stared at McGonagall incredulously, Ron's jaw dropping to the floor. Behind them, Hermione was looking rather worried.
"Mr. Potter, you are the new Quidditch Captain."
"Captain? Captain of WHAT, exactly?! Ron and me? How are we supposed to participate if we don't even have a team?!" Harry half-shouted.
McGonagall gazed at him doubtfully. "Hold Quidditch try-outs, maybe?"
Harry looked at her thoughtfully. "Oh. Right. All right, we'll have try-outs. Hold the pitch for us, the Saturday after next, at 2 o'clock."
McGonagall nodded with a hint of a smile on her face. Maybe that was just his imagination though.
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Hermione lagged behind a fuming Harry and Ron, deep in thought about the Quidditch try-outs.
This summer, when Hermione had visited Ron, she'd mentioned something about wanting to learn how to play Quidditch to Fred and George. With the twin's newfound fortunes, they had bought her a Comet 260. While it wasn't the best broom out there, it was good for her to learn on. After Ron and Harry had gone to sleep, Fred and George would take her out to a small field they used for their own practice, and taught her a few things.
Even though she wasn't the best, and there was a lot of room for improvement, she was definitely better than she'd expected herself to be. And she had fun with it, too.
Harry and Ron didn't know. She'd always been the bystander when it came to Quidditch. If they found out she actually... played it, they'd laugh. They wouldn't believe her. But if she showed up at the pitch, dressed for Quidditch...
Would they let her try out? They had to. It was open to any Gryffindor in their 2nd year or higher. But what about her homework? If only she had that Time Turner...
No! It was too much trouble. Sure, it had helped save Sirius and Buckbeak, but that's it. The Time Turner had caused for stress than anything. She didn't need it. She could play Quidditch and do her homework. How hard could that be?
"Oy! Hermione!"
It was then Hermione realized she was looking at the ground. Harry and Ron had gotten very far ahead of her.
"Oh, sorry! Just thinking about... McGonagall's essay," she lied as she caught up with them.
"You would be," Harry said. It wasn't an insult; he was stating the facts.
She smiled. "Why don't you two go on ahead? I'll meet you in the common room."
"Sure. See ya, 'Mione," Ron said, using a nickname he'd recently started on.
She nodded and turned in the opposite direction. Hermione walked, without stopping, to the Owlery. She pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. Using the window ledge as a desk, she began to write.
Dear Fred and George,
I thought you might like to know that I'm trying out for the Quidditch team. Harry and Ron are the only players left, and Harry was made captain. Thanks to your training, I feel as though I am good enough to be on the team. But I don't want to be good enough, I want to be... better than good enough. Do you think you could drop by Hogwarts sometime to help me improve my flying skills? It would be greatly appreciated. Oh, and how's Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes going? Once again, thanks for the broom.
Hermione
P.S. The tryouts are next Saturday!
She read over her letter twice, and then rolled it up. She called a tawny school owl down from its resting place and tied the parchment to his leg.
"This is for Fred and George Weasley, of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, at number ninety-three, Diagon Alley."
The owl hooted softly, nipped at the letter, then took off through the window, flying in the direction Hermione hoped was Diagon Alley. She packed her quill away after watching the large disappear from her sight, and headed back to the common room.
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"Up for a game of wizard's chess?"
Harry looked up from his essay. "Huh?"
"Wanna play chess?" Ron repeated, using shorter words.
"Oh. Sure." He packed his supplies away, clearing the table while Ron set the pieces up. "So uh..." he began slowly. "What's been going on with you and Hermione?"
The redhead hesitated, and then looked up at his best friend. "What do you mean?"
"Well, its just... you've been... together. A lot. Without me."
"Oh, she's just helping me with the elemental spells. I'm still having a bit of trouble with Thundara, I keep shocking myself--"
"That's... not what I meant, and I think you knew that."
Ron stared hard at one of his bishops, suddenly very interested in a crack on its side. "Nothing."
Harry sighed. Clearly, he wasn't going to get anything out of his friend tonight. Keyword being tonight.
Hermione chose that moment to enter. She dropped her book bag next to the table, looking rather satisfied with herself. Probably finished McGonagall's essay three minutes before she thought she would.
"Who'd you send a letter to? Knight to E-5," Ron ordered his little red horse, and it slid forward obediently, smashing Harry's little, innocent white pawn.
"What do you mean?" Hermione questioned, looking completely shocked, and utterly confused.
"You've got feathers all in your hair." Hmm. Ron appeared to be more observant than Harry today. Something was off.
"Oh." She brushed the feathers out, and then sat next (and rather closely) to Ron. "I was just mailing my mum for more parchment, I think I used my last roll for the essay..."
Harry looked down into her book bag. Several thick rolls of parchment were balanced neatly on top of her books. Hermione noticed him looking in her bag, and, with her eyes wide and nervous, pulled the bag closer to her, closing it. Harry narrowed his eyes in puzzlement, but said nothing.
"Go already!"
It was his turn. "Uhm... Bishop to E-5" The white bishop glided over to the knight and demolished it, until it was nearly a fine powder, with a few chunks of stone laced in.
"Totally, completely barbaric..." Hermione muttered under her breath, but not quite quiet enough for the boy sitting a half-inch away from her not to hear. "We get it, Hermione. Its barbaric, its crude, its unsophisticated, you say it every time; in so many words my vocabulary has doubled in size. But, come on, we're teenage guys. What did you expect?" He looked at her firmly, then turned back to the board. "Pawn to G-3."
"Bishop to G-3." The bishop, once again, mutilated Ron's chess piece beyond recognition. He flinched.
"I wish you wouldn't play that. A stray piece could knock someone's eye out..."
Ron sighed exasperatedly. "Hermione, please, I cannot concentrate. Pawn to F-4."
Harry stared at the board. He had just put his bishop in a very compromising position, where Ron could have easily captured, or destroyed, his piece, with two different pieces. He raised a brow. "Bishop to F-4." The pawn was destroyed, and the bishop was on a roll, thanks to Ron's distractedness.
"I can see that," Hermione stated smartly to Ron.
Who ignored her. "Knight to C-3."
Finally, a place where he couldn't destroy anything. "Pawn to H-5."
The frizzy haired girl sighed. "Ron, do you want to work on spells or not?"
He immediately brightened. "Sure!"
"What about our game?" Harry asked, staring dubiously at Ron.
"Oh, sorry, Harry! School comes first!"
Then he and Hermione were gone. Harry stared at the barely begun game and developed a twitch in his right eye. He slowly began to clear the table, putting the pieces in the box Ron kept them in. "You didn't finish the game!" one of the queens yelled at him. He grabbed her and shoved her to the bottom of the box. He slammed the lid on, but he could still hear the chess piece's muffled protests. He ignored them and pulled his essay back onto the workspace.
Neville came over and sat in the chair Hermione had been in less than two minutes previous. Harry nodded as a greeting. "They leave you behind?" the clumsy boy asked.
Another nod from Harry.
"Sorry. Congratulations on becoming team captain."
"Yeah, it was..." Harry shook his head. "Thanks."
"When Hermione gets back, could you ask her to find me? I need help on McGonagall's essay."
Harry grunted in a positive manner, if that was possible. Neville seemed to be able to read the downtrodden boy's thoughts. "Thanks."
Then he left, and Harry was alone.
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A/N: If you're reading this, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave a review! I'll even take flames, just so I know people are actually reading what I write!
Author's notes: No one reviewed my first chapter. I'm really upset about that. I was thinking that I should just not post this chapter, but I have some friends that I want to read it, since they can't now that we're out of school and they can't get their hands on the original, handwritten one. So... you out there! Ed, Kodee, Ashley, whoever else is reading this and knows me from school or family or maybe just meeting me, you better appreciate this!
-------
HARRY POTTER AND THE HAWK OF GRYFFINDOR
Chapter Two: The World's Smallest Quidditch Team
-------
"I want an essay on animal-to-animal transfiguration. 8 inches. That shouldn't be too hard, now should it?"
It was two weeks later, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in Transfiguration. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, they had learned the basic elemental spells, Fira, Aera, Watera, Thundara, and Blizzara. They had just finished learning Pancaea, which cured poison, and Esuna, which could heal mild amnesia, bad rashes, dizziness, burns, and frost bite, all at the same time.
Harry was gathering his books and parchment together when McGonagall spoke up.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I would like to speak to you."
Harry walked to the front of the classroom, and Hermione stood behind them, as though waiting for permission to stay from McGonagall. She stared at her.
"You may stay. Now Harry, the headmaster has reinstated your Quidditch privileges--"
"YES!!" Harry and Ron high-fived. McGonagall stared at them, then continued.
"However! Both beaters and all three chasers graduated." She paused, then corrected herself. "Well, the chasers graduated. So the team only has two people. Miss Weasley, Mr. Kirke, and Mr. Sloper all resigned at the end of last year. So you and Mr. Weasley here are the only members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
Harry and Ron stared at McGonagall incredulously, Ron's jaw dropping to the floor. Behind them, Hermione was looking rather worried.
"Mr. Potter, you are the new Quidditch Captain."
"Captain? Captain of WHAT, exactly?! Ron and me? How are we supposed to participate if we don't even have a team?!" Harry half-shouted.
McGonagall gazed at him doubtfully. "Hold Quidditch try-outs, maybe?"
Harry looked at her thoughtfully. "Oh. Right. All right, we'll have try-outs. Hold the pitch for us, the Saturday after next, at 2 o'clock."
McGonagall nodded with a hint of a smile on her face. Maybe that was just his imagination though.
-------
Hermione lagged behind a fuming Harry and Ron, deep in thought about the Quidditch try-outs.
This summer, when Hermione had visited Ron, she'd mentioned something about wanting to learn how to play Quidditch to Fred and George. With the twin's newfound fortunes, they had bought her a Comet 260. While it wasn't the best broom out there, it was good for her to learn on. After Ron and Harry had gone to sleep, Fred and George would take her out to a small field they used for their own practice, and taught her a few things.
Even though she wasn't the best, and there was a lot of room for improvement, she was definitely better than she'd expected herself to be. And she had fun with it, too.
Harry and Ron didn't know. She'd always been the bystander when it came to Quidditch. If they found out she actually... played it, they'd laugh. They wouldn't believe her. But if she showed up at the pitch, dressed for Quidditch...
Would they let her try out? They had to. It was open to any Gryffindor in their 2nd year or higher. But what about her homework? If only she had that Time Turner...
No! It was too much trouble. Sure, it had helped save Sirius and Buckbeak, but that's it. The Time Turner had caused for stress than anything. She didn't need it. She could play Quidditch and do her homework. How hard could that be?
"Oy! Hermione!"
It was then Hermione realized she was looking at the ground. Harry and Ron had gotten very far ahead of her.
"Oh, sorry! Just thinking about... McGonagall's essay," she lied as she caught up with them.
"You would be," Harry said. It wasn't an insult; he was stating the facts.
She smiled. "Why don't you two go on ahead? I'll meet you in the common room."
"Sure. See ya, 'Mione," Ron said, using a nickname he'd recently started on.
She nodded and turned in the opposite direction. Hermione walked, without stopping, to the Owlery. She pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. Using the window ledge as a desk, she began to write.
Dear Fred and George,
I thought you might like to know that I'm trying out for the Quidditch team. Harry and Ron are the only players left, and Harry was made captain. Thanks to your training, I feel as though I am good enough to be on the team. But I don't want to be good enough, I want to be... better than good enough. Do you think you could drop by Hogwarts sometime to help me improve my flying skills? It would be greatly appreciated. Oh, and how's Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes going? Once again, thanks for the broom.
Hermione
P.S. The tryouts are next Saturday!
She read over her letter twice, and then rolled it up. She called a tawny school owl down from its resting place and tied the parchment to his leg.
"This is for Fred and George Weasley, of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, at number ninety-three, Diagon Alley."
The owl hooted softly, nipped at the letter, then took off through the window, flying in the direction Hermione hoped was Diagon Alley. She packed her quill away after watching the large disappear from her sight, and headed back to the common room.
-------
"Up for a game of wizard's chess?"
Harry looked up from his essay. "Huh?"
"Wanna play chess?" Ron repeated, using shorter words.
"Oh. Sure." He packed his supplies away, clearing the table while Ron set the pieces up. "So uh..." he began slowly. "What's been going on with you and Hermione?"
The redhead hesitated, and then looked up at his best friend. "What do you mean?"
"Well, its just... you've been... together. A lot. Without me."
"Oh, she's just helping me with the elemental spells. I'm still having a bit of trouble with Thundara, I keep shocking myself--"
"That's... not what I meant, and I think you knew that."
Ron stared hard at one of his bishops, suddenly very interested in a crack on its side. "Nothing."
Harry sighed. Clearly, he wasn't going to get anything out of his friend tonight. Keyword being tonight.
Hermione chose that moment to enter. She dropped her book bag next to the table, looking rather satisfied with herself. Probably finished McGonagall's essay three minutes before she thought she would.
"Who'd you send a letter to? Knight to E-5," Ron ordered his little red horse, and it slid forward obediently, smashing Harry's little, innocent white pawn.
"What do you mean?" Hermione questioned, looking completely shocked, and utterly confused.
"You've got feathers all in your hair." Hmm. Ron appeared to be more observant than Harry today. Something was off.
"Oh." She brushed the feathers out, and then sat next (and rather closely) to Ron. "I was just mailing my mum for more parchment, I think I used my last roll for the essay..."
Harry looked down into her book bag. Several thick rolls of parchment were balanced neatly on top of her books. Hermione noticed him looking in her bag, and, with her eyes wide and nervous, pulled the bag closer to her, closing it. Harry narrowed his eyes in puzzlement, but said nothing.
"Go already!"
It was his turn. "Uhm... Bishop to E-5" The white bishop glided over to the knight and demolished it, until it was nearly a fine powder, with a few chunks of stone laced in.
"Totally, completely barbaric..." Hermione muttered under her breath, but not quite quiet enough for the boy sitting a half-inch away from her not to hear. "We get it, Hermione. Its barbaric, its crude, its unsophisticated, you say it every time; in so many words my vocabulary has doubled in size. But, come on, we're teenage guys. What did you expect?" He looked at her firmly, then turned back to the board. "Pawn to G-3."
"Bishop to G-3." The bishop, once again, mutilated Ron's chess piece beyond recognition. He flinched.
"I wish you wouldn't play that. A stray piece could knock someone's eye out..."
Ron sighed exasperatedly. "Hermione, please, I cannot concentrate. Pawn to F-4."
Harry stared at the board. He had just put his bishop in a very compromising position, where Ron could have easily captured, or destroyed, his piece, with two different pieces. He raised a brow. "Bishop to F-4." The pawn was destroyed, and the bishop was on a roll, thanks to Ron's distractedness.
"I can see that," Hermione stated smartly to Ron.
Who ignored her. "Knight to C-3."
Finally, a place where he couldn't destroy anything. "Pawn to H-5."
The frizzy haired girl sighed. "Ron, do you want to work on spells or not?"
He immediately brightened. "Sure!"
"What about our game?" Harry asked, staring dubiously at Ron.
"Oh, sorry, Harry! School comes first!"
Then he and Hermione were gone. Harry stared at the barely begun game and developed a twitch in his right eye. He slowly began to clear the table, putting the pieces in the box Ron kept them in. "You didn't finish the game!" one of the queens yelled at him. He grabbed her and shoved her to the bottom of the box. He slammed the lid on, but he could still hear the chess piece's muffled protests. He ignored them and pulled his essay back onto the workspace.
Neville came over and sat in the chair Hermione had been in less than two minutes previous. Harry nodded as a greeting. "They leave you behind?" the clumsy boy asked.
Another nod from Harry.
"Sorry. Congratulations on becoming team captain."
"Yeah, it was..." Harry shook his head. "Thanks."
"When Hermione gets back, could you ask her to find me? I need help on McGonagall's essay."
Harry grunted in a positive manner, if that was possible. Neville seemed to be able to read the downtrodden boy's thoughts. "Thanks."
Then he left, and Harry was alone.
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A/N: If you're reading this, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave a review! I'll even take flames, just so I know people are actually reading what I write!