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

A/N: Keh. FF.net is pissing me off, simply for BEING FF.net. Does that happen to anyone else? Anyway. Here's chapter three. After three reviews, seeing as one was sent twice... And if my cousin doesn't shut up I'm going to throw something at him. Thank you, my bestest buddy Ed-Padfoot-Midoriko for offering to be my beta reader! You know what that means, right, Ed? YOU HAVE TO GET ONLINE MORE OFTEN! YAY!

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HARRY POTTER AND THE HAWK OF GRYFFINDOR

Chapter Three: Quidditch Try-Outs

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It was Monday afternoon when Hermione received Fred and George's response to her letter. She was with Harry and Ron under the big oak tree near the lake, working on an essay for Moreau, about the effects of casting two opposing elements toward the same target. A tiny Ural owl fluttered down and landed clumsily on Hermione's leg, the letter tied to his leg and a small box clutched in his beak.

"Oh!" She snatched the owl up, jumping to her feet. Her loose papers and open book tumbled to the ground in her rush. "I'll be right back!" She left Harry and Ron confused, yet again. After she was a safe distance away, she pulled the letter off the owl and let him rest on her shoulder. She pulled the string off and unrolled it.

Dear Hermione,

I, George Weasley, think you, Hermione Granger, could be wonderful on the Quidditch team, with lots of practice. However, our booming business takes most of our time. Angelina offered to help you train. What about that? Which position are you playing? Beater, or chaser? Or beater? Since I'm assuming the role of seeker has been occupied by Harry, and our dearest brother Ron is still keeper...

I, Fred Weasley, think you should be beater, because that's the best role! Angelina's practicing herself to be a chaser for the Moutohora Macaws in New Zealand. We have purchased for your enjoyment, a new broom for you, a Nimbus 2002. It should be with the owl. Its not the best, but we couldn't afford a Firebolt.

Fred and George Weasley

P.S. Lee says hi.

Hermione looked at the owl on her shoulder, still obediently clutching the tiny box. 'Could THIS be what they were talking about...?' she thought as she pulled the box open. Inside, there was a tiny, two-inch Nimbus 2002, and a slip of parchment. She picked it up and read:

It has a reducing charm on it so the tiny little pathetic excuse of an owl could carry it. We swear this really isn't one of our products. Actually, that's not a bad idea.

Hermione smiled, placed the tiny boom into the box, and slipped the box into her pocket with the letter as she walked back over to the tree.

"What was that about?" Ron asked her, helping her get her stuff back into an orderly manner.

"Oh, nothing," she replied nonchalantly. "You'll find out later. On Saturday."

"Hermione, we have Quidditch try-outs on Saturday." Harry informed her bluntly and monotonically.

"I know. Have you finished your essay? Or do you still need help on why they cancel each other out?"

He stared at his friend, unblinking. "No, I'm good."

"Good." She smiled, and looked over at her redheaded friend. "What about you, Ron?"

"Its okay, I've got it." Ron looked equally dumbfounded.

"Excellent." She went back to her own essay, leaving the two boys confused, for what seemed like the 10th time that day.

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It was near midnight, and Harry and Ron were in the dormitory, the only two awake. Neville, Seamus, and Dean were all asleep. It was completely silent, save for the occasional snore coming from Neville.

"Hermione was acting weird today..." Harry whispered, breaking the silence.

Ron looked up from the window. "Huh?"

He sighed loudly. "Hermione. She was acting weird."

"Huh... Oh, yeah." The freckled boy went back to looking at the window. "Hey, there's someone on the pitch."

Harry jumped off his bed and scrambled to the window his friend was looking out. Sure enough, there was a person, dressed all in black robes and flying around on a broom, smacking a bludger. Another person came into view, and hit the iron ball back to the first person. They continued this flying game of tennis, not knowing the two were watching them. He smiled. "I hope they're from Gryffindor, we could use 'em."

Ron nodded, continuing his awed watch. "But what are they doing out there now? Its nearly midnight, way past curfew, they're going to be in so much trouble if they're caught..."

"Well, at least we can rule out Hermione."

There was a moment of silence, before they burst out laughing.

"Hermione! On a broomstick! That's great!"

"She doesn't even like Quidditch!"

"SHH!"

The third voice made the room go back into the dead silence. "Some people are trying to sleep."

"Right, right..." Ron whispered. He went back to his bed, and Harry to his.

"Night, Ron."

"Good night, Harry."

"Night, Harry, Ron."

"Good Night, Neville."

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The mysterious flying figures returned every night, becoming increasingly better each time. Hermione, who had been up every night with homework, was becoming increasingly sleepier each day, and slept all day Friday.

When Saturday finally arrived, Harry and Ron walked down to the Quidditch pitch at 2:00, and were greeted by a small group of people dressed in makeshift Quidditch robes.

"Alright, everyone, line up!" Harry shouted over the noise. "I want beaters on this side and chasers over there!"

The group split into two. There were five beaters and eight chasers. Harry inspected the beaters while Ron took the names of the chasers.

"Wait! Wait! I want to try-out!"

Harry and Ron spun towards the voice. Hermione was running down the hill to the field, carrying a broom.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Ron asked.

"I want to try out."

Silence.

"No, seriously. Why are you here?"

"I just told you. At least give me a chance!"

Harry looked at Ron, then back at Hermione. "Beater or chaser?"

"Beater."

"Over there."

Hermione grinned excitedly, and giggled in a very unHermione-like way. She ran to join the beaters while Harry jotted her name down on the sheet.

"First, beaters. All beaters mount your brooms. We're going to watch your flying skills, then release the bludgers. We're going to use three instead of two, but just for today, since there are so many of you. Ron and I are going to fly around and watch, and we may ask some of you to leave the field. Does everyone have their clubs?"

Everyone except Hermione raised a club. Harry walked over to his friend.

"Where's your club?"

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I... kinda thought you would supply them..."

He stared at her. "Did you even read the flyer?"

"A little... Even if I knew, I don't have one."

"Hermione, I gave everyone two weeks so they'd have enough time to order their required supplies."

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

He sighed. "We'll lend you one, but if you make the team you have to buy your own, okay?"

Hermione nodded and smiled. "I will, I promise."

Harry sighed again as Ron handed a club to their friend.

"Alright, beaters," Harry started, "when I blow my whistle, take off. Ready?"

A shrill noise, and they were off. After a few minutes, he turned to Ron. "Alright, lets go."

Ron, who had already mounted his broom, took off into the air. Harry hovered for a few seconds, before flying higher than the prospective beaters. A waving arm caught his attention. He flew over.

"What is it, Ron?"

"Look!" Ron pointed. Harry turned, and saw Hermione doing flips, turns, and cartwheels, all on her broom. She looked over at Harry and Ron and smiled, then did a one-handed Sloth Grip Roll, although a bit sloppy.

Harry shook himself out of his shock. "Alright, I'm about to release the bludgers!" Her flew to the ground and floated about the chest that held the balls. He kicked it open, and three bludgers shot out, determined to knock everyone on a broom off. He picked up his own club as a precaution, and rejoined the crowd, watching the potential players swing at the solid black balls, missing and hitting.

"Watch out!"

Harry spun around. Colin Creevy was getting ready to hit an oncoming bludger. He swung and...

Missed. The bat flew out of his hands, Colin slipped off, clinging to his broom, and the bludger flew by, exactly where his head had been. The bat continued its flight through the air, and smacked Harry in the back of the head.

Colin, still hanging from his broom, squeaked. Harry turned and looked at him.

"Colin..."

"...Yes?"

"Would you... get off the field?"

"Yes sir." With a little help, he got back onto his broom, and flew to the ground, joining the two beaters Ron had sent away.

"Harry, WATCH OUT!"

At the sound of his name, Harry twisted his body to face the voice. Hermione was waving her club around. A bludger was flying towards him. Before he could react, the magical ball rammed into him, knocking the air out of him, and pushing him off his broom. Harry hung loosely, his head spinning. He felt heavy and it was hard to breathe. Every gulp of air he took made the sharp pain in his side worse. Unable to hold on any longer, Harry let go of the broom and started to fall.

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A/N: PHEW! Finally! Not that anyone cares. I'm trying to do too many things at once! I went to Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban midnight premiere... OMG! SO MUCH FUN! Check out the picture of my friends and me here: img .villagephotos. com/ p/ 2004-5/ 735501/ thegang. jpg

Just get rid of all the spaces. YAY!