Harry got up especially early on the Saturday morning so he could sneak off and have a little breakfast by himself, without anyone watching him or talking to him about the upcoming flying qualification event. They all meant well, but it was annoying. It didn't work, however, as Draco had had much the same idea.
"Just my luck," muttered Harry as he saw Draco sat at the table. The Hall, and the Slytherin table, was mostly empty at the awfully early hour, so Harry didn't have any other options for someone to sit with. He certainly couldn't sit alone as that would be an obvious insult to Draco. So Harry sat down next to Draco. "Morning," he said once he'd sat down.
"Good morning, Harry," said Draco after a few moments. "I hope you're ready for the flying later on, because I've been practising."
Although Draco's entire line of conversation had been exactly what Harry had wanted to avoid by coming to breakfast early, it wasn't as though he could just ignore it now that it had happened. So grudgingly, Harry thought about what to say.
"I reckon I'll be fine," he said. "It will be a bit different riding a Nimbus instead of the Firebolt, but it shouldn't be too hard to adapt. I've had a bit of time up in the air since we got back and I think I'm ready enough for the racing, at least. Of course, the hazard flying is a bit different…"
The barest hint of a frown started to appear across Draco's face at the mention of Harry's Firebolt, but it disappeared within moments. That Harry had a Firebolt, and Draco didn't, was a sore subject for Draco – Theodore had told Harry that Lucius Malfoy had tried to jump the queue for one over the summer but hadn't been allowed due to the massive backlog. The official retailer was only prepared to sell to professional clients, and the manufacturer was a single wizard and his apprentices, so he'd had no joy there either.
Harry – or rather, Sirius – had just about sneaked in with his order the previous year, before all the professional League teams made the switch. It shouldn't matter for the standardised competition, since everyone would be flying on a regulation Nimbus, but in the frees, the Firebolt would give Harry a major advantage over anyone with an older broom.
"The standardised races are where the real skill will show, of course," said Draco. "There's no relying on an equipment advantage there, it's purely down to the skill and talent of the rider."
Harry didn't disagree with Draco's assessment, although he knew it was meant to be a little jibe. Harry nodded along and nibbled at his toast.
"Mm," Harry said. "I don't disagree. Still, I bet some of the others will have brooms just as good as mine—the Firebolt isn't the only top-tier sport broom about, after all. Honestly it's the hazard flying that will be the real challenge. Racing is just racing." It was a bland and true enough statement that Draco couldn't have anything to disagree with, which was always a win in Harry's view. The pureblood boy could have been a professional contrarian, if he hadn't been set to inherit the Malfoy millions.
"It's not something we can practise easily, either," said Draco. "Bludgers, maybe—I've got a professional quality ball set at home that I use, of course, so I'm no stranger to those—but it's not quite the same as what they'll throw at us."
Harry ignored the little jab at his muggle family.
"Do you think they'll give us a better way of practising once we've qualified?" Harry asked instead. It was something he'd wondered since his bit of research on hazard flying after the announcement.
"If they want a winner from Hogwarts, they'd be stupid not to," said Draco. "Although, given the state of the place generally I wouldn't be surprised if they just left us to our own devices."
Although Harry's first instinct was to disagree, on balance he thought Draco might not be entirely wrong. Hogwarts staff did tend to have a rather 'sink or swim' attitude at times. He rather hoped that given the Triwizard Tournament's international nature, the teachers had reassessed, at least for that year.
"I'm sure Hooch will sort something out," Harry said. "Today's just the initial qualifiers though, isn't it? So I don't think we should expect anything too harsh."
"Probably just bludgers, yeah," said Draco. He finished up with his cereal and pushed his bowl away. "Well, I'm finished here. See you at the qualifiers later then, Harry."
"Yeah, see you later," said Harry.
He watched as Draco got up and left, then went back to his own breakfast in the relative peace of the early morning Great Hall. That had been far from the least unpleasant interaction Harry had ever had with Draco, and the other boy even seemed a bit more normal than he had in the summer.
Slowly, Harry's friends trickled into the Hall for breakfast, and by the time Harry was done eating, everyone else had gathered around him, and he was stuck. And of course, the flying qualifiers were the only thing anyone wanted to talk about, at least to Harry.
"Ready for later, Harry?" asked Tracey. "I'm sure you'll smash it, no matter what!"
"I've done all the preparations I can do, now," said Harry. "It should be enough to get through to the next round today, anyway—even if I am up against all the Quidditch players."
As far as Harry knew, all of the regular Quidditch players from last year, save those who had left school, had signed up for the flying competitions. It made sense, since they wouldn't have Quidditch to play that year, but it also made the fight for a place in the real competition later in the year that much more difficult for Harry.
"And I'm a little bit worried about flying on a Nimbus," Harry added quietly, "since I'm more used to how effortless the Firebolt is. But, that feels like kind of a silly thing to complain about…"
"I wouldn't feel too bad about that," said Blaise. "It isn't your fault you're stinking rich, is it?" he said with a grin.
"It was a present," protested Harry. "I would have bought myself a Nimbus 2001, otherwise."
"What time does the qualifier start, Harry?" asked Theodore. "Looks like some people are already going down to the pitch."
Harry glanced around the Hall and saw that some of his fellow competitors had already left the Hall.
"Ten, so there's still a bit of time left," he said with a look at his watch. "Although I should probably get going, as well. See you there?"
"Obviously!" said Tracey. "We'll be there."
"Yeah, see you later, Harry," said Theodore. "Good luck, not that you need luck."
"Nice one, guys," said Harry. He got up from the table and left the Hall, and headed for the Quidditch Pitch out on the grounds. When Harry arrived at the Pitch, he could see maybe a dozen or so other early arrivals milling about in little pairs and little groups. He spotted Ernie stood with a few other Hufflepuffs including Justin and Susan, so he headed that way.
"Morning, Harry," said Ernie once Harry had reached them.
"It's good to see you, Harry," said Susan. "We've not really had a chance to say hello properly this year, have we? Even Herbology's been a slog and it's not even Christmas yet!"
"Morning all," said Harry. "The teachers have been crazy so far," agreed Harry. "I reckon this Triwizard malarkey's got the teachers all in a snit, and that's why they're pushing so hard this year. Can't imagine they want to look bad in front of the foreign schools."
"I reckon that's the right of it," said Justin. "I suppose you can't really blame them—it's the first one in a very long time, and with Hogwarts hosting, they must want to put up a good fight."
"Are all three of you competing?" asked Harry. He didn't know whether either Susan or Justin were competent flyers, but he supposed anything was possible.
Justin shook his head.
"No, no—don't have the experience with it," he said. "Maybe if the Tournament had been held in a couple of years, but I only learned to fly last year, and I haven't actually got on a broom since we stopped lessons."
"We just came to support Ernie! But we've both signed up for the duelling instead," said Susan. "And Miss Evergloam said the Charms Club will be doing something this year so I'm hoping to be included there."
Harry remembered seeing all three of them at the duelling, of course. It seemed like almost everyone who was allowed to sign up for that had, although Harry expected the numbers to dwindle a bit as it got harder. Still, he hoped he would get to face off against his friends in a duel. That seemed like a good bit of fun.
"Hopefully we'll face each other in the duelling qualifiers, then," Harry said with a grin.
Ernie pulled a face.
"Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but I really hope not! I don't fancy my chances against you, honestly," Ernie said. "Not after that trick you pulled with Thomas." Justin nodded along with him.
"Well, I'll give it a go," said Susan. "It's like Snape said, if you can wear down your opponent and win the most points, it doesn't matter if you can't get the Disarming Charm to work." Then she smirked. "And there's more than one way to make someone drop their wand."
Harry could well believe she knew them, too. Susan Bones had more than a little streak of devious cunning hidden behind that warm and placid façade, and Harry knew she was prepared to use it.
"I'll bear that in mind," said Harry.
Madam Hooch arrived just then at the head of a strange procession of long, thin wooden boxes which floated behind her – presumably the brooms sent up by the Ministry for the competition. In one of her hands Hooch carried her own broom, and in the other, a box Harry recognised as the special one which contained the bludgers.
She stopped abruptly when she saw that a few dozen students were already waiting for her.
"Alright, spectators can head on into the stands," she said. "The first few events are spectator-friendly, but you'll have to leave at the end of the day so don't get too comfortable. For the rest of you, I'm going to sort you into cohorts before we begin. The cohort you get placed into today will be your cohort for every qualifying event held today except for the second and third round of speed racing qualifiers. These cohorts will not be the same for any event held tomorrow, or indeed, next week as the qualifiers continue."
"Ooh, good luck, the both of you!" said Susan to Harry and Ernie. "We'll be watching from the stands!"
"Yeah, good luck," said Justin as the two of them left for the Pitch interior.
Hooch started to sort the students into groups of ten. Some of the groups she left unfilled, presumably waiting for students who had yet to arrive at the Quidditch Pitch. Hooch made fast work of it, although she did frequently get interrupted by students who thought poorly of others in their group, and by the occasional group of spectators arriving to watch.
Harry spared a few moments to give his friends from Slytherin a wave as they arrived and entered the stands but returned to scoping out his competition immediately after.
As best as he could tell, Hooch had tried to group flyers of similar skill together, although most groups had some very mismatched flyers in them as far as Harry could see. Harry had thought that Hooch would have wanted to group similarly skilled flyers together, but he supposed she knew what she was doing. Several of the groups of students contained one or more Quidditch players, although not usually those from the same House team. Harry wasn't surprised at all to see that the Quidditch players formed, in his estimation, the core of several of the most skilled groups of ten on the field.
Of course, Hooch had to account for the fact that everyone would be flying a regulation broom, which changed things a little, but in the main Harry thought all of her choices made perfect sense.
"Macmillan, you're to go here," directed Hooch, "while Belby, I want you in that group over there. Spinnet, you're in this one, and Diggory, you're to go over there…"
"Potter, go stand over in that group," said Hooch eventually, pointing to a group of four others who had already been placed into their cohort. He recognised a couple of them and wouldn't have really rated them as flyer – one of them was Seamus Finnegan – but he didn't complain. He reminded himself that Hooch had to know what she was doing, and that even though he'd been stuck in a group with at least one poor flyer, that didn't mean she didn't rate his skills.
And, although it was a rather uncharitable and unsportsmanlike thing to think, Harry thought that it would at least mean an easier qualification for him, too. He'd prefer a proper fight for a place, but in the end the real competition would be against all the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.
Once all the aspirant flyers had arrived and been sorted into their cohorts for the qualifiers, all twenty or so groups of them, Hooch made an announcement.
"Now that we're all present and accounted for," said Hooch, "we can get right on with the day's work. Now, I'm going to be taking you into the Pitch in your groups of ten to run the first round of speed racing qualifiers. Once inside you will be given a Nimbus 2000 from the boxes you've no doubt seen floating behind me all morning. Each broom is brand new and, I should say, perfectly attuned for what we'll be doing today, so I shall hear no complaints about broom quality—I've checked them myself, and if that's not enough for you, we've had the professionals in from each of the four National teams to give them a once over, too. From each cohort only two individuals will progress to the next round of speed racing qualifiers."
At that, a murmur of discontent rang out through the gathered students. Harry could see why – only two from each group sounded a little stingy. But then, there were quite a lot of people gathered in front of the Pitch, and not that many spaces in the competition, so it made sense.
"Any questions?" asked Hooch. Then she paused before continuing. "Questions not about the number of students able to progress to the second round of speed racing qualifiers, of course."
Nobody had a question which was allowed to be asked and so Hooch led the first group away to qualify. Harry felt a little disappointed that he wouldn't get to watch his competition fly in their own qualifiers, but he supposed he would get a chance to fly against any of the good ones, assuming he managed to qualify himself.
From a glance around at the roughly two hundred students attempting to gain a place in the speed racing, Harry thought he stood a very good chance. It was just a matter of waiting for his turn to fly.
"So, you any good on broom, Potter?" asked one of the others in his group – a fourth year Ravenclaw Harry knew by sight but not by name, who had been talking with Montague just moments before.
Harry shrugged.
"I'm not a very experienced flyer," he said carefully. Some things were better kept close to the chest, after all. "I enjoy it, though."
"I heard you live muggle in the summers," said another of the upper years. "So no brooms or nothing. Hoping your fame will grab you a spot, eh?"
"It's true that I live with my muggle family during the summer, but I was planning on trying out for Quidditch this year anyway," said Harry, although he did wonder where people were getting all this information about him. Was there some sort of 'Harry Potter newsletter' doing the rounds? He supposed it could just be down to the normal ebb and flow of rumours throughout the school, especially since everyone already knew his name and a basic collection of things about him, and he hadn't ever been secretive about the fact that he lived with his muggle family. Still, it was always a bit unnerving.
"I don't recognise either of you from Quidditch," Harry said instead, "so I can't imagine you're big flyers either."
Finnegan sniggered a little, at least until the Ravenclaw fourth year shot him a dirty look. Montague barked out a laugh, complete with a snort.
"Yeah, well, we'll see in a bit, won't we," said the Ravenclaw before he turned away to chat with some of the others in the group.
"I saw you fly last year, you know," said Finnegan once the older students had grouped up away from the two of them. "You were good, 'specially for someone who'd never touched a broom before, so I wouldn't pay them no mind."
"Er, thanks," said Harry. "To be honest, I wasn't going to—people say all sorts of things when you're—er—well…" He had been going say 'a public figure' but stopped himself when he realised how that would come across. Still, all sorts of people did say ridiculous things to him all of the time, so it was true even if it made him sound a bit of a ponce. "People say all sorts of things to me, so I'm used to it."
"Must be mental sometimes, being 'Harry Potter'," said Finnegan. "Er, no offence, I mean."
"Well, you're not wrong," muttered Harry. With the ice broken, the two boys kept up a little conversation until, after a few more cohorts went into the qualifiers, it was finally their turn to fly.
Hooch came back out at the end of every qualifying race to call in the next set of flyers, and when it was finally time for Harry to fly, he found that he didn't even feel nervous. That did change once Hooch walked them all through to the Pitch enclosure and handed each of them a brand-new Nimbus 2000.
Harry ran his hands of the polished shaft of the broom and hefted it to get its balance. It felt different in his hand to his Firebolt – heavier, and with a slightly different weighting – but at its core a sport broom was a sport broom, so the difference wasn't massive. Still, Harry knew the technical specifications of both the Firebolt and the Nimbus 2000 almost as well as he knew the alphabet, and it was like night and day. Having become so used to the superior handling, speed, and quality of the Firebolt, Harry worried that he'd overcompensate or even underestimate the Nimbus 2000's capabilities.
Still, with the broom in his hand, Harry walked out onto the pitch to fly competitively in front of a crowd for the first time. The stands were packed a little fuller than Harry had thought they would be for the first round of qualifiers. Although not quite as packed as for the Quidditch matches the pitch usually hosted, a fair portion of the school population had decided to attend. Perhaps that wasn't so odd, considering that there would be no Quidditch this year and this was essentially the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament at least as far as the flying was concerned.
It was louder than Harry had thought it would be, a low buzz of indistinct noise.
"Alright, form a line along here," said Hooch, pointing to a long white line that had been painted on the grass. "Speed racing is simple—the simplest thing we'll be doing today, which is why we're getting it over with first of all. At the whistle, I want you to kick off and do laps around the pitch. You can see the markers all set up, floating in place. What you're going to want to do is pass through each of the markers. If you miss one, you will have time added. They will move around, so do pay attention. The markers are all big enough for all ten of you to fit through at once, so I shan't be listening to any complaints about that. This is as fair a test of your skill on a broom as we can devise given the circumstances, as you all have exactly the same equipment. Questions?"
"How do we know which marker to go through? They're all shuffled about and moving," asked one of the fifth year girls in the group.
"The markers each have numbers above and below them," said Hooch. "They're ordered from one to thirty, naturally, and when you pass the final marker, you'll begin back at the first. Understood?"
Harry nodded along with everyone else. It did seem simple enough. He'd thought it would be more a simple race— first one to the finish line, that sort of thing – but he supposed this sort of set up was more traditional for wizard races. He put the low murmur of the crowd, watching above the stands, out of his mind and instead gazed at the markers to get a better idea of the course. The fifth year had been right: they were set up a little higgledy-piggledy, with some sharp corners and more than one set of markers mismatched in height, but Harry knew that the Nimbus 2000 was a good enough broom to handle them. Assuming its rider was up to snuff, of course.
With a bit more understanding of what they had to do, Harry felt quite certain that his main competition within his own cohort was Montague. He was a Chaser for the Slytherin team, and a flyer quite used to tricky manoeuvres.
"Now then, brooms down, then up after the whistle for kick off as quick as you can. You've all got a spell timing you, so don't worry about that. Three laps, then land back where you all started. And remember—good luck and have fun!"
Hooch waited for the students to place their brooms on the ground, and then counted down to one, before she blew the whistle she always kept around her neck.
In an instant Harry had his broom back in his hand. He shot up into the air and guided his broom towards the first marker, feeling the rush and the exhilaration of magical flight. The first marker hovered lazily in the sky, swaying gently from side to side. Harry pointed his broom at it. He was aware of his competitors in the sky around him, but most of them he left behind soon after ascending.
The difference in skill was already clear to Harry. Finnegan was right at the back of the pack, evidently struggling to get the most out of his broom. Some of the others had been delayed kicking off and were still lagging behind.
Harry wrenched his attention away from what the slower flyers were doing and instead locked his eyes on the upcoming marker. There wasn't a pattern to how the markers moved. Some jerked side to side quickly, and others spun around at a steady pace. The problem was, they'd been arranged so that the flyers had to make difficult manoeuvres to navigate them. He was keenly aware of Montague flying in a tight arc towards the marker, pushing every last bit of speed and manoeuvrability out of the Nimbus.
Harry kept an eye on the large Chaser and directed his broom forwards. He clung low to his broom and passed through the first marker, Montague right beside him, and then made a sharp turn to the left to pass through the second. With the Nimbus not quite as responsive as Harry's Firebolt, Harry lost precious seconds around each corner.
Still, at least Finnegan and a few of the others trailed behind.
I'll have to watch that, Harry thought. If he treated the Nimbus like the Firebolt, he'd fail to qualify.
Montague flew closer and closer towards Harry, coming almost too close for comfort. Thankfully, Harry had attended Slytherin Quidditch team training sessions the previous year, and he knew Montague's tricks: he wanted Harry to panic and veer off, giving Montague space. If Harry didn't, Montague would go so far as to ram him – it was his favourite tactic to remove an opposing Chaser from play. Perhaps that was an illegal move in racing – Harry didn't know – but he didn't want to risk it, either.
So instead, Harry moved his broom closer towards Montague, and inched it ever closer as they competed to be first through the next set of markers. He didn't quite know what his endgame was – he didn't have the bulk to ram Montague – but he felt like giving in would be the wrong move. He kept pace with Montague, and with the fourth-year Ravenclaw boy, through the next few markers, until Montague pulled away due to Harry's distraction causing a near-miss of a marker.
Harry dove down towards the next marker, marker twelve, mindful that any missed marker would add time to his laps. Instead, he tried to find the shortest possible route between the markers to make up for lost time. Markers thirteen and fourteen orbited one another, trading places every few seconds, although they fortunately didn't move up and down or side to side. Montague passed through them easily, leaving Harry behind.
Harry simply wouldn't – couldn't – countenance dropping out of the competition at the very first event. He took a chance and cut across the flight path of two of the other flyers in an attempt to make them brake, then shot up after Montague and the next marker. He shot through the next series of markers and caught up to Montague after the set after that. By then, both of them had managed a complete lap, and started the course again.
Montague's too fast around those corners, Harry thought as he watched Montague speed away on his second lap.
The second lap felt much easier for Harry. He knew the twists and turns, and that one particularly difficult ascent from an especially low-lying marker that liked to spin around, so he gained precious seconds simply from knowing where he was supposed to go. That was good. Montague remained, however, just ahead of him – but still tantalisingly close. Harry reckoned he could catch up by the end of the third lap, but only if he really pushed the Nimbus to the very edge of its capacities.
Before that, however, he had to shake that Ravenclaw off his tail. Rather infuriatingly, the older boy was about a single broom's length behind Harry and seemed to be closing in. Far too close for comfort but not so close Harry wanted to take his attention off Montague.
Harry pulled the Nimbus in, making a tight arc around to the next of the markers. He dipped down, then up once more, then shot through that one marker close to where the Quidditch goal hoops usually were. The roar of the crowd was a distant thing, something he could hear but didn't really register, especially as he came towards the last set of spinning, zigzagging markers.
With two laps finished, and most of the third behind him, Harry knew he had only a few more moments to lose the Ravenclaw behind him. He'd accepted Montague would just edge out the win – the older boy was much more used to flying, especially on a Nimbus, and was in front of him besides – but Harry was nonetheless determined to qualify.
The problem was, so was the fourth-year Ravenclaw. He'd made good time and come up quite close to Harry and had even started to copy Montague's technique. He came dangerously close to Harry's broom, close enough Harry worried that he'd clip the tail twigs and send Harry off course. Well, Harry wasn't going to have that – he dropped into a quick dive before coming up sharply right in front of the Ravenclaw, then slipped through the next marker before it spun around.
Harry's little feint worked – the Ravenclaw had to pull into a stiff brake that lost him time and allowed Harry enough space to stop worrying about him. Instead, he turned his attention back to Montague, who was almost finished with the course.
Harry slipped through the next set of markers with ease, but by that time Montague had finished all three laps and was coming down to land back where they'd all started. Harry pushed the broom forwards to join him only a few seconds later, which was enough to win him a place in the next round of speed racing qualifiers. Not as impressive as an outright first place, but at least he hadn't missed a single marker.
Only once he'd landed and dismounted from his broom did Harry realise just quite how loud the crowd was. He couldn't pick out any specific words, but he could feel the rhythm of the cheering, and it awakened something primal inside him.
This was what he wanted to hear. It was a far cry from the masses at the Quidditch World Cup, but it was a start.
"Nice one, Potter," said Montague once Harry had joined him. "D'you hit any markers on the way around? I didn't."
Harry shook his head.
"Nah, just about managed not to hit any of them. So I think we both qualified."
"Hope so," said the large Chaser.
The fourth year Ravenclaw was next to finish, and then the rest of the cohort finished in quick succession. Soon enough everyone had landed back where they'd begun, and Hooch was nodding to herself.
"Well, that was a good flight from all of you, but in the end, only two of you could qualify and I think you all know who it is—Montague finished fastest, and then Potter. I've got the exact times if you'd like to compare them, but it won't change anything. Now, several of you did hit markers on the way around, which has added time to your scores, but as none of you managed to finish before Potter or Montague that's irrelevant as far as the competition goes," said Hooch. "Those of you who aren't attending other qualifiers this afternoon can go, if you like, or go sit in the stands—it's up to you—but as I recall all of you here are signed up for other events. Do remember to leave your brooms where you found them, please. I don't have time to go running about looking for you. Now, for Potter and Montague, stay back just a moment while I explain what comes next."
Hooch dismissed the other students, all of whom looked as disappointed as Harry imagined he would have been after a failure to qualify, and then turned towards Harry and Montague.
"Good flying, the both of you. Perhaps a little aggressive for a racing bout, but, well, there we are," said Hooch. "We have you both signed up for other events, so you'll be wanting to stick around for the duration today, unless you've reconsidered. The second round of speed racing qualifiers won't be held until next week, so you've both got a little time to rest and work on your technique before then. And again—good work to the both of you! Some of those corners were devilishly hard, and you both managed them easily! Now, I've got to say, it will get more difficult from here on, especially in the hazard racing, but I'm sure you can both manage."
"Thanks, Madam Hooch," said Harry. "Are we allowed to go sit in the stands as well? My friends are there watching, already, and I'd like to watch the other qualifiers…"
"Yes, yes, of course, Potter," said Hooch. "Well, best be on with you both—I've got a lot of work to do and a limited amount of time to do it!"
Harry nodded and walked away from the pitch with Montague. They both headed towards the stands, although as their friends were sat in different parts of the pitch enclosure, they parted ways early on.
Harry pushed his way through the crowd of spectating students in search of his friends. Justin and Susan were sat at the far end of the stands Harry currently searched through, but he was looking for his fellow second year Slytherins just then. He saw them sat amongst a cluster of other Slytherins and hastened towards them.
"Oh my God!" said Tracey once he'd reached them. "That was brilliant! Do you know if you got through?"
Theodore and Blaise moved aside and carved Harry out a space on the benches.
"I got through," Harry confirmed. "Only two from each group can go through though, which is a bit harsh I thought."
"I didn't realise you were that good at flying," muttered Blaise. "I thought it would be much tighter than that. No offence. God, you were only a bit behind Montague and he's been flying for years!"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," said Harry with a grin. "I'm through to round two of the speed racing qualifiers, anyway. There's still a load of other events to go today, and next week at least apparently. Hooch made out that she's going to be busy for the foreseeable."
"Well, you did very well, Harry," said Daphne, "so you should be really pleased."
"So what's left for today, then?" asked Tracey. "Is it just more speed racing or will you be flying again today? Can we stay and watch?"
Harry shrugged.
"It's the speed racing until all the groups are through, then I heard someone say we'll be doing relays and sprints. I'm here all day, I think, but if you lot want to go, I don't mind," Harry said, although he did hope his friends chose to stay. It was nice knowing someone was sat in the stands cheering for him.
"Of course we'll stay! Don't be silly," said Tracey. "And it's not like we've got anything else to do, is it? I mean there's always homework, but…"
"Oh, but we could get ahead of that Arithmancy essay Vector set us," said Daphne. "I'm not saying that's what we should do instead, Harry, but… well, you know what I mean."
"Thanks, Daph. Your support is much appreciated," Harry said. "I hope I can count on you to be this enthusiastic when I'm flying in the real competition!"
Daphne pulled a face, and Harry laughed. By then Hooch had led the next group onto the pitch, and Harry settled in to watch the rest of the qualifiers. They went largely how he expected them to: dominated mainly but not entirely by the Quidditch players, with a decent smattering of unknown challengers sneaking through to the second round.
Harry was pleased when Ernie just managed to snag a place in the second round from his qualifier, although Harry did think that the group overall had been poor. Still, a win was a win and he was pleased for his friend. Ernie could always put in a bit more practise after hours to get up to scratch.
It was well into the afternoon by the time Harry got to fly again – after a quick lunch break – although he jumped at the opportunity. Hooch had them attempt relay races in the cohorts she'd sorted them into earlier that morning – unfortunately, as a closed practise after sending away all the watching students. It felt a bit dull flying without the crowd watching, at least after that morning's excitement, but Harry soon found a nice rhythm and got lost in the flying. Hooch kept them at it until it was dangerously close to dinner, and by then Harry was glad to get the chance to eat.
After a day full of flying, food and rest were the only things on Harry's mind.