hey guys. no i didnt forget about u all. i was in arizona working on an indian reservation for 10 days. no joke. it was fun. but now im back. so heres more. thanks to everyone whos reading this and thanks to the 2 whove reviewed so far.
Chapter 10 Ravenclaw Versus Gryffindor
"Hiya, Harry."
Harry glanced up from his Astrology homework. "Oh, hey, Mark."
"I just came to give you something." He opened his hand and showed Harry a golden Snitch.
"Where'd you get that?" asked Harry.
"At the game. You let go of it and I caught it so I could give it back. No one would take it though. They were all too worried about you."
"Thanks," said Harry, taking the ball from Mark. "Wait, you said you caught this."
Mark nodded.
"Mark, that's great! Listen, how would you like to play Quidditch for me this weekend. I can't play and I don't have a reserve. After all, you did say you wanted to be a Seeker right?" said Harry excitedly.
The boy beamed back. "Seriously? I'd love to!"
"Great…I think you'll fit into my old robes…yeah. Well, then you have practice tomorrow at six. I'll meet you at the Quidditch pitch."
"Wow! Thanks, Harry. But, I don't have a broom."
"Oh, you're right. Well, have you ever flown on a Firebolt?" Harry asked.
"No. Who do you know that's got one of those?"
"I do."
"But isn't that, like, the best broom out there? How did you manage to get one? I know your uncle wouldn't buy it for you."
"No he wouldn't. My godfather did."
"Oh. Who's your godfather?"
"Do you remember a few years back, Muggles were being warned about a man who had escaped for a prison. He was supposed to be armed and dangerous. They got a few things wrong. Yes, he escaped from prison, Azkaban to be precise, but he should never have been there in the first place. He wasn't armed, and he was only dangerous to one person."
"Who was he dangerous to?"
"Peter Pettigrew. He was one of my parents' best friends. He gave them up to Voldemort."
"Azkaban?" Mark asked. "Where's that?"
"I don't know. No one does. Someplace up north I guess. It's a wizarding prison."
"What was his name?"
"Sirius Black."
"I remember that! How did he ever get to be your godfather?"
"He was like a brother to my dad."
"Why do you keep saying 'was'?"
"He's not alive anymore. He died in my fifth year."
"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," said Mark. "You two must have been really close if he gave you a Firebolt. I don't mean to be nosy and if you don't wanna talk about it anymore, I'll understand, but how did he die?"
"Voldemort showed me a vision where Sirius was in trouble. I went to save him and found out that it was all just to get me to the Ministry so Voldemort could try and kill me again. Then Sirius came to rescue me. He ended up in a duel with his cousin, a Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange. He fell…"
Mark sat in silence.
"I guess it's kind of my fault then," said Harry in a depressed voice.
"No, it's Voldemort's. Your godfather came to help you because he loved you. That's no ones fault," Mark said plainly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to spot.
Harry sat, stunned to hear such words of wisdom coming from a twelve year old.
"Harry, I've got to go. I'll see you at six tomorrow," said Mark as he turned to leave.
"Bye," Harry called after him. "Hey, Mark, thanks."
"Ginny. I'm glad you're here," Harry said around five the next day.
"Oh, did you hear that, Hermione?" said Ron. "Apparently we're not wanted here."
"Be quiet. Listen, I can't play Saturday. Madam Pomfrey won't let me," Harry said. "Ginny, you know how to play Seeker, right. I mean, you took my place fifth year, didn't you?"
"Yeah. But I can't play for you. I have to play Chaser."
"I know, but I found someone who will play for me. Only problem is he's never been in a game before."
"Who?"
"Mark."
"But he's a first year!" exclaimed Ron.
"He's supposed to be a second year. And I was a first year when I played my first time," Harry shot at him.
"But why do you need me?" asked Ginny.
"I can't train him. I'm not allowed on a broom yet. I need you to fly with him."
"All right," Ginny agreed. "When?"
"Six."
"How do you plan on getting down to the pitch? Can you walk yet?"
"I don't know. Let me try." He stood up and wobbled a bit. A dull pain started in his back. He ignored it. Harry walked around to his friends.
"Harry! That's great!" exclaimed Hermione.
"You'd better get out of your pajamas if we've got to be down on the pitch at six," Ginny said.
"Mr. Potter! What do you think you're doing?" shouted Madam Pomfrey as she entered the room. "And what's all this about being down on the pitch?"
"You said I could train my replacement."
"Yes, but I didn't mean today. I meant later this week."
"But that's not enough time. Besides, I'm walking fine," Harry argued. "And it's not like I'm going to fly."
"I'll send Madam Hooch down with you," she said brusquely as she left the room. "And don't bother coming back, I've done all can do," she shouted.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Is my broom still in the shed by the field?"
Hermione nodded.
"Do you guys want to come and watch?" Harry asked, sitting on the edge of his bed to rest his back, which was starting to throb now.
"Sure!" said Ron.
At the same time, Hermione shook her head and said, "No thanks, Harry. We've got to study for a test tomorrow."
"What!" bellowed Ron. "But, Hermione..."
Hermione dragged him from his seat. "Have fun you two." She turned back to Ron. "It's your last year, Ron. Your grades need to be up, and as of now they are not."
At five after six, Harry and Ginny arrived down on the Quidditch pitch. Madam Hooch was already there, talking with Mark. Harry walked over to them.
"Oh, Mr. Potter, I'm glad to see you up and about again."
Harry gave her a polite grin then turned to Mark. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," he said excitedly.
"This is Ginny," Harry pointed to her. "She'll be helping you since I can't fly yet."
Mark waved shyly, blushing.
"Oh, he's cute! Harry, how come you're not like that anymore?" Ginny joked.
Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Mark, here's what you'll be flying on Saturday." He handed his broom to the boy, who's eyes got round as Galleons. "Why don't you fly it a little bit so you can get used to it. It's very different from the school brooms."
Mark mounted and kicked off hard from the ground. He soared around the pitch a few times, diving here and there, a look of pure bliss plastered on his face.
"He's quite good," Ginny said. "I won't have to work too hard tonight." Harry nodded. "You know who he reminds me of?"
"Who?"
"You. 'Cept he's got brown hair. I mean he even has your eyes. You two aren't related are you?"
"Not that I know of," Harry said, sitting down and longingly watching Mark zoom in and out of the goal posts.
"You miss it don't you?"
Harry nodded. "What's sad is it's only been a few days."
"You'll be back soon."
"Alright, Mark, come back down," said Harry, standing up and reaching into the bag he'd brought with him. He pulled out bag of golf balls. "I don't want to use a real Snitch quite yet, so we're going to use these. This is how I started."
He handed the bag to Ginny. "Just toss them so he can practice catching them."
Ginny and Mark took off and Harry sat back down next to Madam Hooch whose head was tilted back and was snoring softly. He rubbed his hands together to keep them warm and suppressed the urge to shiver. Pulling his cloak closer around him, he watched the two flying, and noticed the clouds rolling across the sky. He breathed deep and smelled the familiar scent of rain.
Ginny tossed a golf ball gently to Mark and he caught it easily. After a few more easy catches, she started throwing them to different parts of the pitch. Mark didn't do so well on these. The first five or so he missed and he hung his head dejectedly.
"Mark, it's okay. It's only your first night," Harry shouted to him, his breath rising around him. "Just try a few more before we go in tonight."
The boy took a deep breath and set himself firmly on his broom. Ginny lobbed one to the opposite side of the pitch. He shot off after it. It was just about to hit the ground when he caught it. Mark pulled up sharply out of his dive, his toes brushing the frosty grass.
"Good job!" Harry called gleefully.
Ginny tossed a few more to him and not one slipped past. As the sun set behind the Forbidden Forest, Harry called them both down. "That was really good, Mark. Do you think you can come down here the same time every day this week? I need you to practice with the team a bit."
Mark nodded.
"Right then, I'll have Madam Hooch take you back up to the castle while Ginny and I stay here and pick up a few things."
Harry went over and woke up the teacher. "We're finished. I'm just going to clean up a few things here before I head back up. Can you walk Mark back?"
"Sure," she yawned. "Don't be too long, Potter. You of all people shouldn't be out here alone."
"I wont be alone. Ginny will be here."
"Right. Just be quick."
Harry watched them leave, and then pulled out his wand. "Lumos," he said.
He walked out onto the pitch and started picking up golf balls. Ginny followed him grabbing the ones he missed. Once the bag was full, he walked back over to the stands and picked up his Firebolt. Ginny came up and clasped his hand as they walked back to the castle.
"He was very good," she said after a few moments.
Harry nodded.
"Course, he's not you, but I think he'll be okay."
"Yeah," Harry muttered.
Ginny stared at him. "What's wrong?"
"I'm nervous."
"I thought so. Mark's going to do fine this weekend," she said.
"Not about that," whispered Harry. "I have total faith in Mark. I'm worried about me."
"What do you mean?"
"I thought I was better, but this hurts more than I expected." He stopped walking. "What if I can't play like I used to when I come back?"
"You'll be fine. Madam Pomfrey knows what she's doing." She pulled Harry up the sloping lawns as rain began to fall around them. "Besides, you always bounce back."
Harry and Ginny broke into a trot, covering their heads. They walked into the hall a few minutes later, soaked to the bone and freezing. Ginny wrung out her long hair onto the floor. "For Filch," she whispered. They squelched across the floor towards the Gryffindor tower, slipping and sliding all the way.
As they entered the nearly empty common room, Harry saw Ron and Hermione on the couch. He put a finger to his lips and snuck up behind them. "Having fun studying?" He laughed as they broke apart.
"I did not want to see that," Ginny said disgustedly.
"Umm…Hi, Harry," Hermione said, a crimson flush creeping up her cheeks. "I didn't think you two would be back yet."
"Obviously," Harry said, sitting beside them.
"So," Ron said, casually casting around for a subject. His ears remained the same deep shade of red as his hair no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. "Umm…how was Mark?"
"He's actually quite good," Ginny said with a sly smirk in Harry's direction.
"But, you'll get to see that for yourself when he trains with us this week," Harry said, setting his shoes out to dry by the fire.
"Well, then, I think I'm going to head up to bed." Hermione stood and headed towards the staircase. Harry noticed Ron staring after her.
"Wipe the drool of your chin, big brother," Ginny said, tossing a pillow at him. It smacked him squarely in the face.
A loud peal of thunder sounded and Harry woke with a start. He'd been having a strange dream. He couldn't quite recall it all, but he did remember Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy being involved in some way. Judging by the absence of nausea, shakes, and the painful prickling of his scar, this dream had been just that, a dream. Harry glanced at his watch. It was three thirty on the morning of the match with Ravenclaw.
Rolling over onto his side, Harry tried to fall back to sleep, but the rain against the window and the random rolls of thunder did not permit it. Instead, he resigned himself to staring out the window at the dark sky. His heart dropped into his stomach. This was not how he wanted his Seeker's first and most important match to start.
After a half and hour or so of staring blankly, Harry pulled the comforter off his bed and moved to the common room in hopes that the storm might be a bit quieter down there. He settled himself into a chair near the last dying embers of the fire and closed his eyes, pleased the din outside was somewhat muted. He had almost dropped back off when he heard someone coming down the stairs. Suddenly wide-awake, Harry whipped around in his seat and stared at the shadowy silhouette of a girl.
"Who's down here?" she asked sleepily.
"Me," Harry answered back.
"Harry?"
"Ginny? What are you doing down here?"
"I couldn't sleep. I don't like storms," she answered, moving closer to Harry as forked lightning lit up the room. "What are you doing down here?"
"I couldn't sleep either. Why don't you like storms?" Harry asked, lifting up his blanket and patting his lap. She sat down and Harry wrapped his arms and the cover around her.
"When I was little, Bill built me a tree house in the tallest tree in out backyard for when all the boys got to be too much. I was the only one who knew how to find it, because he made it kind of like Grimmauld Place. I was up in it one night during a storm and Mum couldn't find me. Finally I got smart and decided it was time to head home before I got killed. I had barely set foot on the ground when the whole tree just exploded. It threw me, like, ten feet. Broke my wrist in three different places when I landed. The next morning, the tree was all gnarled and bent and burnt. When your five it kind of scares you to see something like that." Yawning a bit, she burrowed her head into Harry's shoulder and hugged her stomach.
"I kind of like storms," Harry said, gazing at the drops of rain sliding down the glass. "It makes my life seem a bit calmer."
Ginny nodded but jumped when another clap of thunder boomed. Harry squeezed her tighter against his chest and kissed her forehead. He felt her relax a bit and soon she had fallen asleep. Lifting her gently and laying her back down on a couch, Harry covered her with his blanket. Then, he curled up in a squashy chair across from her and was soon sound asleep.
Harry woke with a shiver around eight and was surprised to find that no one was in the common room yet. Of course, it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise considering O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s weren't that far off and most of the students had been up late studying. He supposed they were sleeping in and enjoying the weekend as much as they could. As he stretched, he peered out the window, hoping the storm had blown passed. No such luck. Night still had a hold on the sky outside though dawn should have passed hours ago.
Standing underneath a large umbrella, Harry waited for Madam Hooch's whistle to sound. Not that he could have heard it if she had blown it. The howling wind and low rumble of thunder would have prevented any vestiges of sound from reaching Harry's ears. He wrung his hands and gnawed at his lip as he watched the players soar above the pitch.
Thirty seconds into the game, Ravenclaw scored the first goal. Harry was taken back to last year. The final had been against them and Ravenclaw had won, even though Harry had caught the Snitch. He shook his head and prayed this would be a repeat.
For a few moments, Harry watched the Chasers, zooming back and forth and passing the Quaffle almost faster than he could keep up with. When he saw that they were doing as well as could be expected in this weather, he scanned for Mark. He found him high above the action of the game, just like Harry had taught him. Harry watched his head moving from side to side as he searched for the Snitch.
Forked lightening shot down from the sky and thunder sounded louder than before. Harry glanced at Ginny and was pleased to see that she was too focused on the game to care much about the storm. He only hoped Mark would catch the Snitch soon, before playing got too dangerous.
Suddenly, the Ravenclaws began to cheer as their Seeker went into a spectacular dive. Mark shot after him but Harry couldn't see how he would ever possibly catch up. Surprisingly, the distance between the two was closing, and the Ravenclaw Seeker glanced nervously over his shoulder. This was his downfall. While taking his attention off the Snitch, he slowed down the slightest bit. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Mark blew past him in a whirl of scarlet robes and plucked the golden ball right out of the air.
With a shout, Harry leapt into the air and ran out onto the field, splashing through the mud. Mark landed and Harry enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug as the rest of the team landed around them, thumping Mark on the back. To cheers of "Evans! Evans!" Harry lifted the boy onto his shoulders while Gryffindors poured onto the field.
Once more, lightening lit the sky, and the teachers shouted something about getting everyone inside. It wasn't until the deafening crashes of thunder came that anyone took heed to their advice. As one, the students ran for cover. Rain came down now as if someone was dumping continuous pales of water and Ginny was clinging to Harry's arm quite painfully. Even resembling a drowned rat could not dampen Harry's spirits though, and he continued to grin from ear to ear.
Finally back in the Common Room, Harry warmed himself by the fire while the whole of Gryffindor Tower celebrated. He was just about to join in on the merrymaking when Hermione pulled him aside.
"You never said Mark's last name was Evans." She was whispering as if afraid that someone would overhear them. Not that anyone could have caught what they were saying with the commotion about them.
"So?" Harry asked, eager to join Ron over by the food.
"Well, doesn't that name ring a bell?"
Harry didn't answer, hoping she would cut to the chase. She didn't so he shook his head slowly.
"Honestly!" she muttered in exasperation as if any sane person would have been able to see it. "Wasn't your mom's last name Evans before she married your dad?"
"Yeah, I think so," Harry answered cautiously. Suddenly a light clicked on. "But it's a popular name. Besides, my mum didn't have any other kids besides me, and Aunt Petunia…well, I mean who would want to?"
"Maybe. But it's possible he's some long lost relation. Wouldn't that be nice!" she finished cheerfully as she traipsed off toward Ginny.
Harry stared blankly after her. "What a nutter!" he mumbled, heading to get some food.
Ron and Harry sat over in a corner, removed from the action of the common room, reliving the short match over and over again.
"He didn't even wait for us to score! It was like watching you play!" Ron exclaimed with a mouth full of meat pie.
Grinning, Harry said, "So it's okay for him to be a first year now?"
Ron glared at him.
"Hiya, Harry. I've been looking for you."
Harry turned around and beamed at Mark, who was also grinning from ear to ear. "Not bad for your first game!" he said, offering Mark a seat near them.
"Thanks."
"So, you came awful close to beating a Hogwarts record, and my record at that, after practicing for a week. I'd say you've got potential. You'll be talking my place next year, apparently."
"I hope so! That was fun."
"Hey, Mark, come sit over here with us!" someone shouted from with a gaggle of excited first years. Mark stood to leave but Harry stopped him.
"Before you go, can I ask you a few questions?" Harry asked, suddenly serious. Mark sat back down, gazing into Harry's face questioningly. Even Ron stopped eating long enough to listen in on the conversation; a forkful of meat pie poised a few inches from his mouth. He stared back and forth between Harry and Mark, a look of wonder on his face.
"Hermione brought something to my attention a little while ago, and it's been bugging me," Harry started in. Mark urged Harry on with a nod of his head. "I don't know if…well…I mean…" Harry stopped and took a breath. "How come you never talk about your dad?"
"Well, I never knew him. My mom left him before they got married. She says he was a complete nutter. Course, now we know he was telling the truth, but that doesn't matter much because he died before I was even born."
"What do you mean 'he was telling the truth?" asked Harry leaning forward in his seat.
"He said he was a wizard!" Mark exclaimed proudly.
"Wait. So start at the beginning. How did your mom meet him?"
"When my mom was seventeen she ran away from home. She didn't even go back when she found out she had two sisters. She says that her family pressured her too much," Mark said as if it were as casual as the talking about the weather. "She met my dad and they were going to get married but when he told her about what he was, she left him. A few days later she found out about me." Mark was silent for a moment.
"And…" pressed Harry impatiently.
The boy stared back quizzically. "Well," he continued, "my mum went to tell him and found out he'd been murdered. No one could quite figure out how, 'cause there weren't any marks on the body or anything. He just sort of died."
Harry glanced at Ron, whose eyebrows looked as if they had crawled into his hair they were raised so much. Harry turned back to Mark. "You said your mum had two sisters. What were their names?"
"Wait, Harry, you don't think…I mean he and you…It's not possible is it?" Ron stammered, pointing confusedly at Harry and Mark.
"And why couldn't it be true? Look at us! We look almost identical. How's that coincidence?"
"Maybe. Just don't get your hopes up."
"What are you two talking about!" laughed Mark. "Why should you care what my aunt's names are?"
"Because, Mark, my mum's last name was Evans, before she married my dad."
"Well, you're out of luck. I don't know my aunt's names. I've never met them and my mum doesn't talk about anything from her 'old life.'"
"Oh come on! You must have asked about them sometime," Harry pleaded.
Mark shook his head dolefully.
"Maybe if you hear them you'll remember. My mum's name was Lily and her sister's is Petunia!" Harry said desperately, near tears. He wanted so bad to not be alone in the world.
Again, Mark shook his head.
"Harry, leave him alone," Ron put in, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder.
Gloomily, Mark stood to leave. Suddenly he turned around. "Flowers! My aunt's names reminded me of flowers!"
Harry's head snapped up and a feeling of excitement welled within his chest. "Lily and Petunia…They're flowers."
"Lily…Lily…" mutter Mark, closing his eyes and wrinkling his brow. "Lil—That's it!" he shouted. The entire common room stared at them.
Ron stood and blocked Harry and Mark from view. "Nothing to see hear, folks." One by one the students turned around again muttering to one another.
"Come on." Harry stood quickly and practically ran toward the portrait hole leaving Ron open mouthed in the common room.
"Wait up! Where are we going?" shouted Mark as he caught up.
"Dumbledore," said Harry, breaking into a run. "If anyone knows what's going on here it's him."
They skidded to a stop in front of the entrance to the headmaster's office. "Fizzing Whizzbee," Harry panted, hoping the password hadn't changed since the last time he'd been here.
"Whoa," whispered Mark as the staircase appeared.
"And what are two Gryffindors doing out of the Common Room after that most… spectacular…Quidditch game?" sneered an ugly voice.
Harry whirled around and was face to face with his least favorite teacher. "We're here to talk to Dumbledore, Professor." Harry shot back. "There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"
"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter, for your cheek. Your lucky I don't make if more for leading a first year out after dark." With a swish of his cloak, Snape rounded a corner and was gone.
"Bastard!" Harry breathed as he shot off up the stairs, Mark close behind him. "Professor!" he shouted as he banged on the door with his fists.
The door opened to reveal Dumbledore. "Mr. Potter," he said, standing back to let them through. "Have you got something against my door that you insist on breaking it down?"
"Sorry," apologized Harry. "It's just, I was wondering, that is to say, we…well, we wanted to know, is there any possibility that we might be related?" Harry stammered, desperately trying to make the words come out in a coherent fashion.
Dumbledore sat silently behind his desk for a moment, gazing at the two boys behind his half moon spectacles. "Well, the resemblance between the both of you is uncanny, there's no doubt about that. But…well what makes you think you're related?"
Harry glanced at Mark before saying, "Well, like you said, we look a lot alike. He has my mum's eyes! But then there's the fact that he said he thought that his aunt's names sounded like flowers. My mum's name was Lily, that's a flower, and my aunt's name is Petunia, and so's that."
"Ah, so you believe yourselves to be cousins." Harry nodded. For a moment, Dumbledore turned his gaze to Mark, then again to Harry. He sighed and said, "I am afraid it is not so. You're mother, Harry, had only one sister. I'm sorry. It's obvious that you both wanted this."
"Are you absolutely positive. He said his mum ran away before mine was even born. Maybe you just did—"
"No, Harry, I am sorry." Dumbledore stood and ushered them to the door. "Now, I suggest you both get back to the common room. No doubt the Gryffindors will be celebrating their fine victory." And with that, he closed the door behind them.
"Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to get your hopes up," said Mark sadly.
"It's not your fault. It's just…I've never really had a family. I've never really belonged anywhere except here. It'd have been nice to find out I had a cousin." He glanced over at Mark.
"Well, at least were friends, right?" said the boy proudly.
"Yeah."
