Chapter 7 - Pre trial

You see, diary, it is completely irrational, what he's doing to me. One moment, he's very civilized, sweet even, and the next... an absolute barbarian jerk. One moment, I feel like he understands me perfectly, without me even saying anything, and the next, I can't even imagine we were born on the same planet. And I know I complained about this last year, but it's really much worse and much more spontaneous this year. What am I to do?

Much love,

Hermione

Gregory Goyle was sitting in the hallway to the Slytherin boys' dorms, pretending to read a book and watching intently for Pansy Parkinson. The door to his dorm room was shut, and Draco's green and silver tie was hanging from the doorknob.

Suddenly, Pansy came round the corner. Goyle stuttered as he tried to remember the signal. She paused and looked at his book.

"What are you reading?" She scowled. " It's upside down."

"Uh," He grunted, dawning on the signal, "uh... hoot. Hoot hoot hoot. Hoot, hoot."

"What..." she looked at Draco's door. "Is Draco in there!" She ran to the door and had brought her hand up to pound when it glided open, and Draco was leaning easily against the doorframe, sleeves rolled, fully clothed but for his tie, Pansy's fist inches from his face.

"Let me help you with that," he grinned slyly and knocked Pansy's hand out of the air, at the same time pulling his tie deftly off the doorknob, twisting it around his hand. A girl ran out of the room, wearing a dishevelled white shirt and clutching jumper and yellow tie to her chest. Pansy tried to snatch her, but she was out of the corridor long before Pansy could have caught up. Pansy turned back to the door and glared at Draco.

"What," she growled, "was that?"

Draco smirked. "Sorry about that. If someone," he looked pointedly at Goyle, "had remembered the signal a bit sooner, we could have avoided that whole scene."

"That's not the point," Pansy said. "What was she doing in your room?"

"Oh, that," Draco rolled his eyes. "Pansy, she was just a bit of fun. She was a bleeding Hufflepuff. Nothing. Nobody. Besides, nothing really happened."

"You sound more like you father every day--"

Draco quickly pulled his hand back and slapped her hard across the cheek. He slammed her against the wall opposite the door. His hand, still holding his tie, gripped the collar of her robes, and she whimpered, her cheek purpling and tears streaming down her face.

"Don't," he snarled, "don't EVER tell me I'm like my father again. EVER! You're lucky you have me, hear? LUCKY!" With the last word, he shoved her into the wall again, let her go, and walked back into his room, Goyle in tow. She slid down the wall, and was left crying alone in the empty hall.

Harry fastened the arm guards of his Quidditch robes and kicked his bag under the bench. He smiled at Ginny, who smiled back and walked to the bench, throwing her bag to the floor and pulling her grey jumper off over her head. Harry walked out of the changing room and onto the pitch. He rubbed his eyes, wishing that he didn't have to do this. He knew Ginny was a good Chaser. He'd seen her play. He had also seen Ron be Keeper. He didn't want to have to can his best friend, but he didn't want to jeopardise the Cup, either.

Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper were hitting a Bludger around with clubs, playing better than they had last year, which lifted Harry's spirit a little. Madame Hooch was standing next to Oliver, pointing at her whistle, which he was holding excitedly in his hand. He put it to his lips and blasted a shriek out of it that shook everyone. Harry dropped his broom, Madame Hooch dropped the Quaffle, and Andrew allowed a Bludger to hit his shoulder and flip him upside down before he had time to register the attack.

"Blimey, sorry about that," Oliver shouted across the pitch. Dean, smiling, walked onto the pitch and mounted his broom, kicking himself up into the air. Ginny and Ron followed him. Ginny looked relatively calm, but Ron was pale, though not as disoriented as last year. A tall, thin blonde girl followed them up and glared at Dean, who had been looking at her from the corner of his eye.

Harry kicked off, and found himself surrounded by the players. "Erm, right," he said. He hadn't expected this to make him so nervous. "As everybody knows, this isn't an official tryout, but if you do well enough, then I'm going to hold the tryouts on Friday for reserve positions only. Glad to see familiar faces, as well as new ones," he smiled at the blonde girl, who looked at him as though she had nothing better to do. "Dean Thomas, and..."

"Natalie Fenwick," she said. Her voice had the same scratchy quality of dry parchment.

Harry searched his brain. Why did Fenwick sound familiar? He dropped it quickly, though, and said, "Well, since you've all warmed up, we're going to run some plays. Ron, to the goalposts. Dean, Natalie, go - you're the Chasers. Andrew, Jack, you can let the Bludgers go, and then deal with them. You know." Harry waited until Ron was out of earshot, then said to Dean and Natalie, and said, "a McMannon double loop back, you know what that is?" They nodded.

Natalie took the Quaffle under her left arm and flew straight toward the left goal. Ron was watching her intently, doing absolutely nothing. Harry wanted to bury his face in his hands. Ron was just going to let her by. Beside him, Harry heard Ginny mutter, "Come on, Ron, come on... move... don't freeze, mooove..."

Natalie soared toward him unhindered. Suddenly, Ron zoomed right in front of the goal post at which she was aiming. Startled, she veered left to avoid hitting him and dropped the Quaffle. Ron dipped down, caught it, and threw it to Dean.

"Erm...again. Ginny, get in there, Natalie out," Harry called out hesitantly. He was shocked. Ron had improved beyond recognition. Dean and Ginny were at the other end of the pitch, whispering and pointing furiously. Ron watched them briefly, then gave him broom a bit of a right lean.

Dean took the Quaffle and flew toward the middle goal post. Ginny went beside the left goal and waited. Dean began zigzagging, and Ron mimicked his movements. Left, right, left, right, left, and then Dean dove under him. He went around to the right goal. Ron stretched his arm to the Quaffle, blocking it just in time. Dean tossed the Quaffle to Ginny by the left post, but Ron was there almost before she had caught the ball. She stopped for a second, then threw it to Dean at the right goalpost. Ron turned sharply and flew to the right post. He arrived just in time to knock the Quaffle away from the goal with an outstretched hand. Ginny took the ball and threw it through the middle goalpost before Ron had time to turn around.

The team was gathered in the dressing rooms after tryouts. "As you know," Harry said, "this was scheduled before actual tryouts, which means there will be a stampede of second and third years wanting to come out here on Friday, because there are official Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts." Everyone looked around the room, disappointed. "Unfortunately for them," Harry smiled, "I've already got my team." With that, the changing room erupted with cheers.