Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form. That honor belongs to JK Rowling, and JK Rowling alone.
Chapter 15
After getting ambushed by Cornish Pixies in Defense Against the Dark Arts, a particularly grueling Charms class, and constantly being badgered by Colin Creevey, Ginny Weasley, and Professor Lockhart, the weekend couldn't come soon enough for Harry Potter. Mercifully, he made it to the Great Hall on Friday night for dinner unscathed, and was eager to kick off his break from classes. He was surrounded by his Gryffindor classmates and recounting the bizarre events of the new school year with a constant smile on his face. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Harry! Been looking for you!" A familiar voice practically boomed from behind him. Harry fought the urge to submerge his face in the pudding in front of him.
"Hi, Oliver." Harry groaned, turning his head to meet the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain's eyes. "Let me guess – "
"First practice of the year tomorrow! Be in the locker room at dawn, Seeker." Wood winked before marching off, presumably to pester the other players about their upcoming practice.
"Yikes. Dawn?" Ron asked with a smirk. Harry sighed and put his face in his hands.
"It'll be alright, Harry." Hermione offered next to him. Harry groaned, and mumbled something incoherent about walking off the Astronomy Tower. "Oh, relax. We'll all be there to cheer you on, anyway."
Harry lifted his head in surprise. He turned to see Hermione, Ron, and every first-year Gryffindor nodding in agreement.
"Really?" He asked. Not waiting for a response, he tried to convince them otherwise: "You guys don't have to do that. It's the weekend, you guys should be sleeping – "
"We can still play Exploding Snap in the stands, Harry, don't you worry about us!" Seamus grinned. Dean and Neville nodded eagerly in agreement.
"Just don't fall asleep at the broom." Dean smirked.
"Plus, it's fun watching you fly." Lavender added. "We'll be there. All of us."
Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise at his friends' resolve. Even Ron and Neville – the heaviest sleepers he'd ever known – seemed eager to be there for him. He couldn't deny that it felt good to see how many people cared this much about him. It was like he had his own team off the Quidditch pitch.
"Thanks guys. That's really nice of you." He managed. They finished the meal amidst cheerful conversations unrelated to Quidditch, and they all walked merrily back to the common room and went to bed immediately.
Despite falling asleep much earlier than he usually did, Harry still felt like his eyes had been closed for only a minute before he was shaken awake by Wood. Groggily clambering out of bed, he pulled on his scarlet Quidditch jersey and robes before traipsing down the stairs. He heard his roommates reluctantly getting ready to walk down to the pitch as he closed the door behind him.
Once he reached the bottom of the staircase, he saw a familiar mane of bushier-than-usual brown hair spread out over an open book on one of the common room's many tables. The hair was attached to a slumped over body adorned in Gryffindor colors from head to toe. He gently poked Hermione's shoulder and she perked up almost instantly.
"You're awake!" She cried out, leaping to her feet.
"I certainly am. Are you?"
"I am now." She beamed.
"How long were you waiting for me?" Harry returned the smile.
"Doesn't matter. You're ready, right?"
He nodded, and the pair began their journey. They walked in a content silence, waving hello to the school ghosts and the occasional friendly painting as they strolled through the corridors.
As they cut through the same courtyard where they'd had their impromptu photoshoot a few days' prior, Harry recalled how he and Hermione had held hands on their way to class that day. He thought about lacing his fingers through hers once again, glancing from his hand to hers nervously.
He didn't realize how long he'd been staring at Hermione's fingers until they were standing outside the locker rooms. He glanced up to see Hermione looking at him expectantly.
"I'll…erm, I'll be in the stands." She managed. Harry nodded, and ambled into the locker room. Five of his teammates – the Weasley twins in particular – were on the verge of falling asleep in their seats. Wood, on the other hand, looked wide awake as he eagerly welcomed Harry and began going over a diagram with all kinds of lines, arrows, and crosses on it to represent plays.
Harry didn't absorb any of it, feeling his eyelids grow increasingly heavy until he felt an elbow in the arm. He blinked his eyes open to see Fred Weasley motioning for him to get up. Sure enough, Wood had finally concluded his lecture and the team was making their way towards the pitch.
Harry felt excitement surge through him as he grabbed his Nimbus 2000 and dashed to the exit. The moment he was out of the locker room and surrounded by fresh air he jumped onto his broom and took off into the air. The feeling of the wind whipping through his hair, the sight of the endless green beneath him growing more and more distant, it was like injecting caffeine into his veins. He spun around a few times, re-acclimating himself with flying once again. He heard a few cheers from below him and saw a crowd of seven Gryffindors clapping furiously in the stands. He grinned to himself and flew down to hover near them.
"Looking good, Harry! If you can keep your sorry arse out of the Hospital Wing we might actually win the Cup this year!" Seamus grinned. Harry tried to glare at him, but he couldn't stop himself from snorting.
"What's that clicking noise? Is that someone's broom?" Neville asked, looking around. Harry suddenly heard a flurry of CLICKs ringing out across the pitch, and groaned as he turned towards one of the highest sections in the stands. Sure enough, Colin Creevey was taking picture after picture.
"Secret admirer?" Pavarti asked with a giggle.
"Well, he's certainly not secret about it!" Lavender retorted, sending all of the Gryffindor crew into fits of laughter – except a dejected-looking Harry. "Oh don't look like that, Harry, everyone knows who your real admirer is!" Lavender managed to gasp out once the laughter subsided.
"Oh, don't bring my sister into this!" Ron groaned. Lavender, however, didn't acknowledge Ron's gripe, and instead gave Harry a look he couldn't quite read. He felt his eyebrows raise in confusion, but Lavender just smirked and turned back to Pavarti, giggling.
Harry thought about asking Hermione what was going on, but she had her nose buried in The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2 so far he couldn't see her eyes, only her cheeks – pink from the early-morning chill. He shrugged, and thanked his friends for showing up before flying off to join his teammates.
"Who's the kid with a camera? I reckon he's a Slytherin spy…" Wood grumbled as the team formed a circle in the middle of the pitch.
"He's in Gryffindor." Harry sighed. He earned a few confused looks at that knowledge. "I don't know him, but I saw him get sorted." He quickly distanced himself from the over-eager spectator.
"Plus, Slytherin doesn't need a spy." George Weasley said, his tone suddenly venomous. He pointed towards the locker rooms, where seven figures in green robes were marching out of the exits and onto the Quidditch pitch. Wood launched into a furious string of swears and rocketed over to them, bellowing about how he'd booked the field. Harry flew over along with the rest of his teammates and saw Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint brandishing a piece of parchment.
"Snape signed this. It says we can use the field because we need to train our new Seeker." The green-clad Chaser grinned smugly.
"New Seeker?" Wood spat incredulously.
Flint pointed triumphantly to the smallest of the Slytherin players, a pale-faced boy with blonde hair and a vicious sneer that Harry was all too familiar with. Draco Malfoy. The bespectacled wizard couldn't believe his eyes, but then he recalled Malfoy's father threatening to cancel his order for a racing broom in Diagon Alley. He groaned, along with everyone else on the Gryffindor team.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred muttered with disdain.
"No, Freddie, he's Lucius Malfoy's lapdog." George sneered at the Slytherin.
"Funny you mention Draco's father," Flint said, his lips curling into an ugly smirk, "you should see what he gifted the team." He, along with his teammates, lifted his gleaming broomstick to show the silver inscription: Nimbus Two Thousand and One. "The very latest model. Faster than the Two Thousand," he threw Harry a malicious glare, "and it wipes the floor with those Cleansweeps." He gestured to the Weasley twins' brooms.
The Gryffindor team was stunned into silence, while the arrogance oozing from the Slytherins was palpable.
"What's the holdup?" A voice called from behind Harry. He turned to see the seven Gryffindor second-years were marching over. "We came to watch the best Seeker at Hogwarts fly, not a bloody staring contest!" Ron roared when he caught sight of the Slytherins.
"What's he doing here?" Neville groaned when he spotted Malfoy. The blonde scoffed as Harry's classmates lined up alongside the Quidditch players, each of them glaring with ferocity.
"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Longbottom." Malfoy sneered, and he brandished his broom once again. "This alone is probably worth more than Weasley's whole house – "
"Can it, Malfoy!" Seamus glared, tensing.
"Maybe your team can raise some gold and buy some of these for yourselves. Why don't you sign some of those photos your friend is always taking, Potter?" Malfoy continued, his voice dripping with venom. Before Harry could retort, Hermione interjected, her eyes darkening with rage.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," she said sharply. "They got in on pure talent."
Malfoy's smug expression vanished.
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!" he spat.
Hell broke loose. Eager to defend their friend, the Gryffindor second-years whipped out their wands and aimed them at the new Seeker. Seamus and Ron were spewing profanities harsh enough to frighten a sailor. Fred and George had to be restrained by Wood and the three Gryffindor chasers – Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson – to prevent them from leaping onto Malfoy. Flint stepped in front of his new teammate protectively, but the sight of five wands and the furious Weasleys was enough to put fear in his eyes. Malfoy was sputtering incoherently, trying hard to appear brave and failing spectacularly.
Harry had never heard the word before, but it was clear it was something horrible. He looked to Hermione, who seemed equally bewildered and a bit hurt. He stepped towards her, gingerly lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her away from what was slowly becoming a brawl.
An hour later, Harry dejectedly threw his Quidditch robes into his trunk and skulked down the stairs to the common room. Hermione, Ron, and the rest of his year were occupying a slew of chairs and couches arranged in a circle. Harry slid on a couch next to Hermione, who had pulled her knees into her chest and was staring off into space.
"Ok." Harry sighed. "Someone explained what just happened."
Both teams had been kicked off the pitch by irate Professors Snape and McGonagall a few minutes after the altercation began. Snape had taken one look at the chaos and instantly gave Harry a detention, and if Hermione hadn't gripped his hand so tightly he was sure he would have decked the greasy-haired git. After Wood explained what had transpired to McGonagall, she gave Malfoy detention and docked Slytherin forty points.
Ron, who was sitting in an armchair across from Harry and Hermione, suddenly cleared his throat. "Well, you see Harry, and Hermione, the word…that Malfoy used, well – "
"It's one of the worst words someone can say against a Muggle-born." Seamus interjected, clearly still angry. He slammed his fist on his armchair before muttering to himself.
"Exactly." Ron sighed. "Some wizards - like Malfoy's family - they think they're better than everyone else because they're pure-blooded."
"But everyone with half a brain knows that's wrong!" Pavarti added, and Lavender nodded in agreement.
"Look at me, for instance." Neville, who was sitting on the armrest of Dean's chair, offered a small smile. "I'm a pure-blood and I can hardly stand my cauldron the right way up."
A few quiet chuckles were shared at that. Harry looked to Hermione to see she was still curled into a ball, her face now buried in her knees. He decided to inch closer to her, carefully wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She slowly lifted her head and her eyes were shining with tears. He felt his stomach plummet at the sight and gave her a gentle squeeze. She offered him a small smile and rested her chin on her knee.
"Hermione, if anyone even thinks about calling you that again, you know all of Gryffindor's got your back." Dean said, earning nods from everyone. "Especially if it's that prat."
"Plus, Harry's more than happy to knock Malfoy off his broom when they play each other, right Harry?" Ron smirked.
"Please, I'll send him into the Great Lake." Harry grinned, and Hermione's smile widened.
"Thanks guys." She managed in a hoarse whisper. "Really, thank you."
There was silence for a minute or two, with Harry absent-mindedly rubbing Hermione's shoulder as he thought about the different ways he could hex Malfoy into oblivion.
"Well!" Ron said suddenly. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm – "
"Hungry." The other seven Gryffindors sighed in exasperation. Ron bristled as he stood up, his ears turning pink.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am hungry." Ron crossed his arms.
"Shocking…" Hermione mumbled, earning snickers from her house-mates.
"Well, I'm certainly glad it was my appetite that got you back to your right self." Ron grinned. "Instead of, oh, I don't know, each of us telling you we'd jinx all of Slytherin into a different dimension for you."
"Is he still talking?" Lavender mused as she looked at her fingernails, eliciting outright laughter from several of her classmates.
"I'll be at breakfast." Ron huffed sarcastically, and most of the Gryffindors followed him out. Hermione made no effort to move off the couch, and Harry decided to stay with her.
"I'm sorry, Hermione." He finally said. "I'm the reason you were down there, it's my fault that – "
"Harry, it's not your fault Malfoy's a git." Hermione sighed as she slowly uncurled herself. "Yes, if you didn't have Quidditch practice I wouldn't have been there. I wouldn't have been around Malfoy, and he wouldn't have called me that." Harry winced, and felt his stomach drop to the floor once again before she continued. "But you seem to be forgetting it was my idea to be there in the first place."
"Well – "
"Honestly, Harry, being insulted by that smarmy bigot isn't the problem, anyway."
"You being called the worst word in the magical world isn't a problem?"
"Alright, true, that was not ideal. But, the real problem I have is that Malfoy thinks like that. That there are a lot of wizards who think like that." Hermione sighed and leaned her head on Harry's shoulder.
"So it's the mindset, then?"
"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." She responded, her tone now deadly serious. Harry was taken aback by his friend's sudden change in demeanor. Her eyes had darkened with a steely determination, and her features hardened intensely. It wasn't like she had changed into a completely different person, but it was like she unlocked something. It was like every ounce of tenacity she ever showed in the classroom was channeled into a newfound ferocity. To Harry, she looked badass.
"Whoa…" Harry said before he could stop himself. He had barely registered what Hermione had said, instead found himself transfixed by her resolve. She lifted her head and turned to him inquisitively, and he felt his entire body flood with panic. "S-sorry, just, that's a good saying." He stammered, and Hermione nodded distractedly. She returned her head to his shoulder, and Harry's panic was replaced with a calming sensation that made him feel like he was sinking into the couch cushions.
"I like it too." She said after a peaceful silence. "It's from Letter from a Birmingham Jail, by Martin Luther King Jr."
"That's cool." Harry muttered, his attention solely on the brown hair that tickled his cheek. Hermione exhaled, and somehow leaned closer into his side. Harry swore she nuzzled her head against his shoulder, and he felt his heart rate spike.
"Aren't you hungry? I know you were only flying for a few minutes, but still. You haven't eaten."
"I'm fine where I am. You?"
"Never better."
A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you aren't disappointed with the length of this chapter. It's the shortest one since Chapter 5, but I didn't want to drag this out or add on another unnecessary event to the Quidditch incident and the aftermath. I thought this sequence should stand alone. Hopefully y'all enjoyed it!
If you haven't gathered by now, the story I'm writing has a much closer-knit Gryffindor crew in Harry's year. I wonder how it will affect future events…and our two main characters and their dynamic. Anyway, enjoy a comforting Gryffindor gang and more importantly, a comforting Harry! Also, the image of all of Harry's classmates getting ready to sic Draco in the name of defending Hermione was too good not to write once I came up with it.
I may sound like a broken record, but I don't care because it's worth repeating: thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, following, and favorite-ing this story! All of you are outstanding, and you mean the world to me. If you like this story so far, please do let me know via review/favorite/follow! It just makes my day. Thank you all, and stay safe!