Chapter 27: Only Quidditch

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to JK Rowling. Blackmail belongs to my beta. See the AN!

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A/N: I'll start by getting the bad news out of the way: I'm taking two weeks off Fallen, because of general stress (exam results on the 26th, charity work, forces social outings). If I'd had my way, it'd have been one week and that's it, because I know you all love having frequent updates and you're all fantastic readers who deserve frequent updates, but my beta is putting her foot down. To the point of refusing to discuss, beta, read or even mention Fallen for the next two weeks. And seriously, without her to reassure me approximately every three paragraphs, I go straight to pieces. So yes, she's blackmailing me to take a break. In her own words,

A message from Delta:

As you know, Cyropi has been writing Fallen for 28 chapters, one a week, every week, with only a months break. In that month, only one week was spent relaxing on holiday. The other three were spent uploading Cursed, and planning and discussing Fallen endlessly.

Her GCSE results come out a week Thursday, and as she has already told me before I decided she needed a two week break, she will be celebrating and attending parties (Cy's note – actually, if current plans go right, I'll be visiting my sister, brother-in-law and niece!). We all know she'll do fabulously well and will exceed everyone's expectations, but she has no confidence and will be worrying about them. Now I don't blame her - my own results come out soon and I'm already in a state - but I know from experience that Fallen will cause her even more stress. She works incredibly hard to do a chapter every week, and if she doesn't take a break NOW, she'll burn out.

So complain at me if you must, but I've blackmailed Cyropi into taking a fortnight's break. When she returns she will be refreshed, jubilant, cheerful, and with another series of excellent chapters for you. And possibly even a new story! -cheers for Macbeth- So allow her this little break. Please?

When I get my results (on Thursday the 26th) I'll post a note in my profile telling you how I did, for anyone who actually wants to know. And I promise that when I manage to meet up with Lou in real life, I'll kick her. Hard.

Another occurrence of the Twilight Zone Psychic Readers Phenomenon: a few mornings ago I was lying dazedly in bed at some shameful hour of the morning and remembered, completely randomly, a D/Hr fic I read ages ago but couldn't remember the author's name or the title beyond the fact that it had 'Blue' in it somewhere. When I log on to the computer, I find a reviewer (Erica G!) had mentioned both author's name and title in her review.

To field some questions: nope, I didn't specifically state that Voldemort was half-Fallen when I had the scene with him talking to Lucius. I alluded to it though. Very heavily, and if you go back and read that scene again (chapter 19, 20 if you count the prologue) you'll definitely spot it. Speaking of carefully mentioning things which will be important later and which no one seems to notice, there was one little thing which keeps cropping up which no one has picked up on… unless you have, and just didn't mention it?

And as to my quotes: I'd love to say they're all ones I just happen to randomly know, but only a few are. Most of them are from various quotation sites. Oh, and on the topic of quotes; if anyone knows of any good ones that could be fitting, mention them in a review! Song lyrics, sayings, random things people have said…

And on that plea, I'll shuffle off stage and leave you to the fic. Enjoy.

If we were to wake up some morning and find that everyone was the same race, creed and color, we would find some other cause for prejudice by noon.

George Aiken

Sunday morning breakfasts were generally quiet, peaceful affairs at the Gryffindor table. Everyone would be half-asleep, chattering quietly with relaxed smiles, savouring their last moments of true freedom before they had to traipse up to the common room and make a start on whatever homework was due on Monday morning. They were lovely restful, idyllic times. Ginny smiled nostalgically at the memories of them as she took a large mouthful of honey-sweetened porridge.

Things weren't so idyllic this morning. Dean was still in a mood; sitting half the table away from her and fuming. Harry looked like he hadn't slept a wink last night, and Hermione's face was wearing a permanent anxious frown – sometimes directed towards Harry, sometimes towards Ginny, sometimes to the huge windows through which the morning post entered the Great Hall, and sometimes over Ginny's shoulder at something or someone on one of the other house tables. Probably the school in general, Ginny surmised.

And between Hermione's worry and Harry's exhaustion and Dean's inexplicable anger, the lazy, restful morning Ginny had expected had ended up being oddly tense and fretful. At least Ron was normal; happily wolfing down a large breakfast like he always did in the mornings. She should be thankful for at least one piece of normality, one less thing to contend with, but…

She sighed into her bowl. As the two youngest siblings of a very large family, she and Ron had always been close, and over the summer at Grimmauld Place she'd come to know and like Hermione and Harry quite well too. It was a hard time for them all, with Sirius' death and Voldemort after Harry, and Ginny had taken it upon herself to get them to relax, to talk about normal things, rather than just sitting together in silence until they snapped.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden loud hoot near her ear, making her jump; a plain but intelligent-looking tawny owl landed on the table beside her. Just the Daily Prophet, Ginny realised as she glanced towards its tightly-secured burden. Hermione leaned over to stroke its feathers before untying the paper.

Ginny frowned and took another bite of her porridge. Had she really only noticed the arrival of the morning post when an owl had hooted beside her ear? She'd end up as bad as Harry at this rate – she glanced at him: he was toying with the edge of a piece of toast – or, if she carried on worrying, she'd turn into another Hermione. Gulping down her spoonful, she turned to Harry.

'How's the toast?' she asked.

He looked up. 'Oh. It's fine,' he said, and took a big bite. 'Did the post come already?'

Ginny almost laughed. 'Yes. Nothing for any of us, except the Daily Prophet. I was half-expecting a letter from Mum, she hasn't written in a bit, but she did say she was going to be busy…'

'With what?' Harry asked, interest flickering in his eyes. 'Did she say?'

'Just general things around the Headquarters,' Ginny replied with a shrug. 'Decorating, I think, since the original colour schemes weren't that inspiring…'

She smiled at Harry, glad that things seemed to be livening up a bit. Beside her, Ron had spotted the huge Quidditch article on the back page of the paper and was pleading with Hermione.

'Oh, come on, it's just one page, and the new season's about to start. It's not like you're going to read the Quidditch news anyway…' he pleaded. Hermione sighed.

'Okay, okay,' she said, peeling the desired pages off the newspaper and handing them to Ron, who pounced on them with a massive grin. 'Honestly, it's only Quidditch…'

'Only Quidditch?' Ron asked incredulously. 'Hermione, the Cannons have a new Seeker this season, they could go straight to the top of the league!'

'In your dreams, Ron,' teased Ginny, sticking her tongue out at him. 'They won't get anywhere until they get a decent Keeper…'

'Their Keeper is decent!' Ron protested. 'Just because he let in a few goals-'

'-more goals than anyone else in the entire league-'

'-doesn't make him a bad Keeper.' Ron finished, glaring at his sister, who gave him a cheeky smile. Everyone there knew Ron wasn't really angry: after all, the two Weasley siblings had had this argument practically daily for the past week.

Ron huffed and returned to the Quidditch news, and Ginny turned back to Harry, who was grinning widely. 'Who do you think is going to win the league this season?' she asked.

Harry chewed his toast thoughtfully. Hermione and Ron had settled into dedicated reading of their respective parts of the paper. 'Well,' Harry said, 'I'm not really up-to-date with the latest Quidditch news, but…'

He paused, and Dean took that moment to start an over-loud conversation with Seamus. 'Have you done that Charms homework yet? I'm stuck on the history of the Ambages charm, I can't find it anywhere…'

Dean's chin was raised and oddly angled; Ginny knew her boyfriend well enough to know that meant he was furious, but hiding it. She sighed, stirring her spoon glumly through the rapidly-cooling remains of her porridge.

'Do you know what's up with Dean?' Harry asked, his tone conversational. 'He's not spoken to me since he stormed off last night. I tried to ask what was wrong this morning, but he ignored me. And Ron.'

Ginny frowned. 'And he hasn't spoken to me either.' She glanced up to see Harry pouring himself a fresh glass of orange juice, not looking what he was doing: his puzzled gaze was instead resting on Dean. Ginny had to bite back a groan. The last thing she needed right now was Harry getting something else to worry about…

'Forget about it,' she said, catching hold of his hand and tilting the carton in it upright. The glass had been about to overflow. 'I'm sure it's nothing to do with you. Probably just some big misunderstanding.'

'Possibly,' Harry said, 'but I think it does have something to do with me and Ron. After all, Dean was speaking to Seamus and Neville this morning…'

As he took a sip of his orange juice, Ginny came to a sudden realisation: Harry didn't look upset when he talked about Dean. Usually when he was thinking of something bad you could tell at a glance: he lost the colour from his cheeks and the emerald from his eyes; his lips failed to curl into that tiny half-smile he usually wore around his friends. His skin would pale, as though it were merely a thin, translucent layer of flesh over paper-white bone. His eyes would widen, lose their focus.

He didn't look like that now: he looked normal.

Ginny immediately dismissed the idea that he wasn't worried about Dean at all. She could tell that he was from the slight furrow between his eyebrows, the careful, considering look he wore. He was worried, then, but didn't seem bothered by the worry; seemed almost to be enjoying it…

She realised what it was: she'd done exactly the same thing after her first year, after Tom. When something was that wrong, such a huge and massive weight on your mind… it had helped to worry about other things. Little things that didn't matter, so you could pretend the big, important things weren't really that big.

She bit her lip, hard. Poor, poor Harry…

'Er… Hermione?'

That was Ron, paling rapidly so that his skin was almost the colour of the pages of the newspaper he was holding out to Hermione. 'I think I found what you're looking for.'

They all knew that Hermione mainly got the Daily Prophet to look for Voldemort's influence, his subtle propaganda. Ginny couldn't see the page he was holding out for Hermione's inspection, but she seized it sharply, biting her lip, her eyes worryingly wide and flickering over the parchment at an unnatural speed.

'Hermione?' Ginny asked. 'What is it? What now?'

Wordlessly, Hermione held the newspaper up for her inspection.

It read,

Foul Play Predictions Marr New Quidditch Season

The Quaffles are out, the Bludgers are flying, and the Snitches are gleaming as brightly as the League Cup – but just how brightly is that?

Quidditch has always been a noble sport, enjoyed by some of the most ancient wizarding families for centuries. The Quidditch pitch has been a symbol of sportsmanship, graciousness and chivalry. But not for much longer, according to the Ministry's Department of Magical Sports and Games.

'Fouls, rule-breaking and unfair play have been on a definite rise over the past decade,' said a Ministry spokesman. 'Previously these underhand tactics were resorted to only by the desperate, but recently they seem to have become commonplace.'

And he has the statistics to back his claims up – nearly three times as many fouls were committed in the past year as there were fifteen years ago. And a mere four years ago, the average Chaser was only half as likely to sustain a serious injury. The main cause of injury being, of course, foul play.

In an attempt to discover the root of the rule-breaking, the Daily Prophet spoke to Muggleborn Rachel Verity who committed 'blurting' in a friendly match against the Appleby Arrows last week, resulting in serious injury to the Arrows' new Chaser. 'Blurting' is defined as 'locking broom handles with a view to steering opponent off course', a severe form of fouling which can and has lead to fatalities.

When questioned on her actions, Verity had this to say: 'I maintain that I was falsely accused by the referee. My broom handle did interlock with that of the other Chaser, but this was an accident. We flew too close together and, regrettably, both twisted towards each other at the same time, causing our broom handles to become entangled. I regret the accident as much as anyone, but I defend my innocence, and my team intends to make a formal objection to the relevant authorities.'

One of the spectators at the match had a differing opinion. 'It was quite clearly an intentional foul,' said Robin Lea, 34. 'She flew purposefully and deliberately into her opposing Chaser's broomstick, a very clear case of blurting. I wouldn't have thought her capable of such violence, to be honest. She lives close to my house, with her Muggle parents and sister, and I've spoken to her a few times. Rachel seemed nice enough, but what I saw on the Quidditch pitch was pure, premeditated violence.'

Verity isn't the only Muggleborn showing signs of violence. Roberts, a Chaser for the Ballycastle Bats; Durran, Beater for the Kenmare Kestrels, and Cooper, Chaser for the Montrose Magpies, have all committed serious fouls in the past Quidditch season – and all of them, along with numerous others, are Muggleborn.

The number of Muggleborns on Quidditch teams has been increasing ever since the first downfall of You-Know-Who, and the number of fouls has also been increasing steadily. Is this, then, the answer to the sportsmanship inherent in the wizarding world's most noble sport?

And if the fouls keep on coming, what will happen to this game of champions? 'The Ministry is considering new preventative measures to keep Quidditch players safe,' said our Ministry spokesman, 'which may, regrettably, impact the enjoyment of the game.'

One thing's for certain – the future isn't shining brightly for Quidditch.

Ginny sat up slowly, having to scan the final few paragraphs again, to be certain she hadn't missed anything, any subtle point that might alter the article's meaning. Beside her, Harry sat back in his chair, shaking his head slowly as if in disbelief.

'Well,' he said after a moment's pause, 'that was pretty unsubtle, wasn't it.'

'But no one's going to get taken in by that,' Ron said, frowning and trying to lean across the table to see the article again. Hermione let him take it. 'I mean, it's dead obvious it's all prejudice and lies…'

'Oh, it's obvious to us,' Hermione said in an oddly high-pitched voice. 'We know Voldemort's trying to get more followers, trying to reduce the opposition; we know he's using the media and such to spread prejudice. What about them?' she asked, gesturing with a quivering hand to the school in general. 'They don't know the Prophet's biased, they're going to believe what it says, they're going to start thinking that Muggleborns are… are violent, or cheaters, and then what are they going to do…'

Ginny grabbed tight hold of Hermione's hand. 'Hermione! Calm down,' she ordered firmly, giving the other girl's hand a tight squeeze. 'Some of them might, but not all of them will. Have a little faith in other people. Some of them are intelligent enough to realise all this is rubbish…'

'But what about the ones who don't?' Hermione asked, very soft and quiet. 'They did exactly this kind of thing with the Nazis, all propaganda and lies and people not knowing it wasn't really true. And it's horrible, because you can't fight against prejudice with spells or hexes or curses, you have to try to get people to realise that their prejudice is wrong and that's really hard and I don't know how...'

The two boys had been hovering on the edge of this exchange, frowning in an anxious way. Ron took the opportunity to give Hermione a tentative pat on the shoulder, as if worried that she'd explode at the touch.

'I think you could get anyone to realise they were wrong,' he said loyally. 'And besides, you know Dumbledore and the rest of the Order know about Voldemort and the prejudice stuff. They'll be helping fight it.'

'I guess…' Hermione said. 'It's just… how many people are going to be reading this article this morning? How many of them are going to take it seriously? And all the rest of the propaganda as well, how many of them are going to take that seriously and then decide that the Death Eaters are the best way to solve the problem? And… and it's a lot easier to instil prejudices in someone than it is to remove them…' She pulled her hand away from Ginny's and leant her elbows on the table, forehead resting in the palms of her hands, fingers curled in her hair. 'Why is it so hard to stop?' she asked miserably.

Harry was the one to reply. 'I don't know,' he said simply, and exchanged a worried look with Ginny. Ron, with a Weasley's instinct to resort to food in times of crises, attempted to console Hermione with a helping of pancakes coated thickly in sticky maple syrup.

Ginny returned to her porridge, realising there were no answers she could give to cheer her up, and that it was probably best to leave it to Ron. She knew from experience how comforting he could be when you were upset; just to have him there, proof that some things stayed solid and warm and comforting.

Harry gave her a nudge. 'Should we be… you know, doing something?' he asked quietly, with a nod towards Hermione. Ginny gave him a reassuring smile.

'There isn't much we can do,' she said, summarising her own thoughts of moments before. 'And Ron's comforting. Probably best we leave him to it.'

Harry looked uncertain for a minute, his eyes flickering towards Hermione, but he seemed to accept what she said. 'In that case,' he asked, his voice again low, 'have you looked at Dean lately?'

She glanced in her boyfriend's direction, and was startled to see him glaring in her general direction as though Voldemort himself was sitting at her right hand.

'He was like that for ages. Ever since we found the article,' Harry continued. 'I…' He paused, shrugged. 'Do you have any idea why he's acting like that?'

'No.' Ginny replied. 'Do you think I should go talk to him?'

He considered this. 'You'll have to sooner or later. Mealtimes are probably the best time; it's less likely he'll start shouting with other people around. Not that I think it's likely he'll start shouting,' he hastily clarified, 'just that he might. He does look pretty annoyed about something…'

Ginny nodded and glanced back towards her boyfriend. He had quite a temper on him at times, she knew that much. And she knew he most likely wouldn't tell her on his own. She liked Dean: he was funny and clever and warm and artistic, the kind of boy who wouldn't object to you using his shoulder as a pillow when you were sleepy on long summer evenings, who could make anyone laugh with a retelling of a favourite joke, who would doodle your name and portrait diligently in the margin of his History notes.

And with these qualities in mind, she gave Harry a quick nod and slid out of her seat.

Dean pretended not to notice her as she approached, although she could tell he knew she was there. Seamus gave her a cheery grin, which helped her feel a little better. And why did she feel nervous, anyway? It was only Dean. She was only asking why he was upset with her. And…

'Dean?' she asked softly. He ignored her. She hovered, a foot or two away from his defensively hunched shoulders, his firmly turned head, his bitterness, and tried to figure out what to do. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and rested it on his shoulder, afraid he would shrug her off and repeated herself louder and firmer.

'Dean?'

He didn't shrug her off, but his voice was cold and hard and reminded her of scraping her fingernails along an ice cube. 'Finally got bored of Harry and his gang, have you?' he asked. 'Got a spare minute with nothing better to do?'

'Dean?' This third time it was a puzzled query. 'What… I just want to know why you're so upset. Why you're angry. I don't know what I've done to hurt you, and I'm sorry for whatever it is…'

He didn't reply, staring instead at his orange juice as though it were utterly fascinating. Seamus gave him a pointed look, then sighed and turned to Ginny.

'He's upset because he thinks you've been spending too much time with Harry and Hermione and your brother,' he explained simply, ignoring Dean's sudden betrayed splutter. 'I tried to tell him that anyone with eyes can see something's wrong with you lot and you're trying to help, but he was too angry to listen.'

'Seamus!' Dean protested 'You weren't… why did you… you told her!'

'Yes,' Seamus replied evenly, 'because you obviously weren't going to and I don't see how she's supposed to know what's wrong unless someone explains it.' He nodded to Ginny. 'He's all yours.'

Ginny didn't know whether to be relieved or upset. Relieved because it wasn't as serious as she'd feared it might be, but upset because she doubted this would be easily solved.

Sliding into the seat next to him – a gaggle enthralled of third-year girls shuffled out of the way and watched in fascination. He turned his head away from her, but when she caught hold of his cheek he let her turn his head to face her.

'I guess I haven't spent as much time with you as I could have,' she began, biting her lip, but slightly reassured by the fact that he didn't look angry anymore; merely sullen and sulky. 'And I'm sorry. I love spending time with you, and I care about you a lot, but I also care about my friends…' He was frowning, turning his face downwards; Ginny grasped his chin and tilted it back up. 'Don't get upset at me for it, you do the same…'

'I don't spend every waking minute with them,' Dean protested.

'Neither do I, and I wouldn't want to besides.' Ginny said firmly. 'I do want to spend time with you. It's just… I have my friends too, and they're going through a bit of a rough patch right now. You've seen Harry lately…'

Seamus cut in nonchalantly, as though this were a perfectly normal conversation. 'Going all funny, not talking to people and drifting off into some kind of dreamworld,' he remarked, buttering a scone. 'Hasn't given us a hint as to why…'

'Stop hinting, Seamus, I won't tell you,' she replied, grinning at him, and even Dean gave a soft laugh. 'It's Harry's business who he tells. But something bad did happen and he's… well, you've seen. And of course Hermione's worrying about him, which makes it all even worse, and then there's all this prejudice and stuff in the newspaper which makes them all even more upset…'

'Prejudice?' Seamus frowned. 'I think I remember Ron saying something about that… against Muggleborns. Load of bollocks.'

'Try reading today's Quidditch section,' Ginny replied grimly, before turning back to Dean. He was frowning very slightly; just the merest trace of a line on his forehead. She traced a finger over it, and it vanished. 'So I'm sorry if I can't spend as much time with you as I'd like,' she finished softly, 'but…'

'Your friends need you,' he said, with a short sigh that was only a few steps away from a groan. 'I know. And I know I'd do the same thing, and…'

'Do you forgive me?'

He frowned properly then. 'I guess I have to.'

Relief broke out in waves, and Ginny let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. 'Good,' she said, and leant forwards to kiss his forehead, to the rapturous applause of the third years behind them.

A/N: 'Ambages' means 'rigmarole, enigma, circumlocution.' Nope, I have no idea what such a charm would do. I just like picking interesting Latin words to play with!

Well, that's all. For two weeks! I'll miss you all… just remember, and rants at Lou you wish me to pass on can easily be passed on. Just leave them in a review. REVIEW! Yes, that's what you're meant to be doing now. Do it.