Quidditch
Harry flew on the pitch with the team and circled up high as the balls were released. Ginny Weasley shot up higher and circled.
Harry was circling slowly, looking for a golden glint when he saw something that didn't belong. On the Gryffindor stands, at the very top, a large black dog sitting. A very large shaggy black dog. A Grim. Harry's heart started to pound. Bugger. His vision started to narrow, his chest aching. He concentrated on finding the snitch. Look for the golden ball, not the black omen of death, he thought to himself.
He was concentrating too hard, as a bludger hit his right arm. That really hurt. And was oddly wobbly, and felt gratey. A broken arm then. He tried not to put pressure on it and flew about looking for the snitch. The commentator mentioned he'd been hit.
"Must have been a glancing blow" they boomed.
Finally, Harry saw a glimmer of gold by the Gryffindor goal and dived as fast as he could. Which meant pulling up, and his broken arm had him feeling nauseous, but he grabbed the snitch, ending the match. He looked at the score, now he wasn't in a hurry. Two hundred and ten to one hundred and eighty. Far too close. Was that including the snitch? Harry sat on his broom in mid-air, no hand free. The score didn't jump up, so that was including the snitch. He held the snitch in his broken arm and flew down and landed. Someone in team colours slapped him on the arm. He reeled in pain, but got the snitch into his working arm and handed it to Flint. "Well done Potter" said Flint. Harry nodded.
Ginny Weasley landed and came over "Well done Potter" she said, looking windblown. "On the same broom as you it'd be a fair match"
"Then I'm lucky it's not" said Harry politely "I have to go."
Ginny stuck out her hand. Harry gave a weak smile "Got to go" he said, not trying to shake her hand, broom in his only working arm and went to the broom shed, racked the team broom and started off for the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was quite helpful. "I'm starting to think you like my company" she joked.
By the time Harry got back to the common room, there was a party going on. Harry was tired, ached and smelt bad enough he could smell himself.
"Hey it's Potter" yelled someone. Harry shielded reflexively.
"Yeah, Seeker!" someone old yelled drunkenly.
Harry weaved thought a crowd of happy Slytherin students to the dorm entrance, dodged around a fourth year girl he didn't know the name of who seemed to want to talk to him, and headed to his dorm. The dorm room was empty, and Harry went to the bathroom, dumped his quidditch uniform and had a hot shower. The bandage on his arm where his arm-bone had stuck out was waterproof. Harry got dressed in ordinary Saturday clothes, had some calming draught, just to take the edge off, grabbed his book-bag and headed for the common room.
"Hey Potter where'd you go?" asked Flint loudly.
"Infirmary. Broken Arm" said Harry.
The room stilled.
"You caught the snitch with a broken arm, and went off to get it mended?" asked Flint.
"Yes, now I have assignments" said Harry.
"Hard Harry!" yelled Flint. "A hard bastard."
"Thank you" said Harry awkwardly, and went to leave.
"Which arm?" asked the other sixth year player, the one who'd slapped Harry on the arm.
"The one you slapped" said Harry drily and pushed his way to the exit.
The library was quiet and peaceful and Harry worked on his assignment for Arithmancy.
He was very hungry by lunchtime. He ate lunch at a depleted Slytherin table.
"Potter?" asked Lilith Moon.
"Yes?" Harry replied politely.
"You're not celebrating the Quidditch victory?" she asked.
"I have many assignments due on Monday" said Harry "I'm glad I caught the snitch."
"Did you really have a broken arm?" asked Moon.
"Quidditch is a rough game" Harry answered. "I hope you enjoy your lunch."
And he didn't get hexed and Moon probably didn't do voodoo.
The Library was peaceful that afternoon, a few Gryffindor moping in and busying themselves with assignments.
Dinner was quite nice, and the Slytherin table was still diminished.
Harry had finished his Arithmancy assignment, his potions assignment and was working on history.
Five hours after dinner had the assignment done, and Harry went back to the common room.
Older students lay about looking tired. The room smelt of butterbeer.
"Hard Harry!" slurred a team member. Harry nodded.
The dorm room had more people; Crabbe and Goyle lying snoring, Nott looking groggy and Zabini looked dishevelled "Potter" he asked from his bed "Where have you been?"
"Library, assignments due" said Harry "I'm doing all the electives."
Sunday dawned on Harry Potter with an aching arm. The painkiller potion had worn off. A good day for assignments.
Nott was cleaning his teeth "Potter, what's the bandage for?" he asked.
"Broken arm. Bone stuck out" said Harry.
Nott went green. "You really are hard as nails."
"Not a bit" said Harry, showering awkwardly.
The third year girls were at breakfast en-masse.
"Potter, you were absent the victory celebrations" said Pansy.
"Assignments" said Harry "I have many assignments due" and he shut up. The girls looked at him oddly, then pretended he wasn't there and ate breakfast.
A week later, Sirius Black attacked the Gryffindor common room. Supposedly.
All the students were locked into the Great hall with sleeping bags.
Harry was out like a light as soon as his head hit the floor.
The next morning he sat up.
"How could you sleep on the floor" asked Pansy, who looked like she hadn't slept.
"My bed's not much softer at home" admitted Harry, then shut up, before he got hexed.
The news that Black was nowhere near Harry Potter had the Ministry finally agree to remove the Dementors.
Harry was disappointed, but he did find out what his mum sounded like. Hunting Black would have to wait.
"Today we're Learning about Hippogriffs" said Professor Grubbly-Plank leading the class to the edge of the forest.
"This ones' quite tame" said Professor Grubbly-Plank, with a hook for a hand and a peg-leg, leading the eagle-lion cross towards the class. It had massive front claws; longer than a man's hand.
It snorted and pulled but Professor Grubbly Plan ignored all that, and looked over his shoulder at it "Buckbeak, don't act up."
The Hippogriff stopped pulling, and acted… like a dangerous person. Harry desperately wanted to run as far away as possible. This damn thing was going to kill him. It was, he realised just-about the day Professor Trelawney had predicted for his death.
Professor Grubbly-plank explained how you bowed to the hippogriff, and if it didn't bow back, you left.
"Now who wants to volunteer?" he asked, and Harry felt his fellow students flowing away from him like water in a stream, going the other way.
"Potter" said Professor Grubbly Plank "Good, just bow to old Buckbeak"
Harry bowed nervously. The hippogriff stared at Harry; like Fawkes had, then bowed.
"Well, there you go. Now if you needed to, you can feed, chain or groom the hippogriff. Potter, go and stroke its beak."
Harry nervously approached the thing, its huge, sharp steely beak looking very dangerous. He patted its beak nervously. It exhaled, then inhaled sharply.
"Ah, Buckbeak is scenting Potter. A hippogriff will remember a scent for years. You can use them to find lost people; like post owls, only bigger, and you can ride them." explained Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Potter, hop on and have a fly, safe as houses."
Buckbeak lowered himself? To his haunches and Harry climbed half on, then took a handful of feathers to pull himself on.
"Don't pull the feathers!" yelled Professor Grubbly-Plank. A wee bit late. The pulling sensation incensed the hippogriff, who turned his head and smacked Harry with the edge, and point of it's beak. Harry was knocked onto his backside, a painful cut across his chest. Harry felt tingly. Not in a good way.
"Everyone back, I'll just get Potter to Madam Pomfrey" said Professor Grubbly-Plank. Harry was conscious as he was painfully lifted to his feet and helped on a very long walk. All the while, his shirt getting wetter and wetter. With blood, Harry realised.
A concerned looking Madam Pomfrey helped him to lie on a bed, then started casting spells and making him drink awful-tasting potions. Harry lost consciousness a little later. One of the potions…must have been a sleep one.