Welcome to the Jungle
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Glee. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Part One: Fifteen
Chapter Forty-Seven: parts of You
They place third.
It's not enough to earn themselves a place in the Euro Challenge finals in Washington DC, but out of the 25 Ohio schools that had participated, it's not a bad showing. Disappointing, certainly, but they'd still had the opportunity to present in front of representatives of the European Union, and Harry can't complain.
"So, are you still going to shave your head?" Leanne asks Puck.
Puck had declared (dramatically) that if they don't advance to the next stage of the Euro Challenge competition, he'd shave his head in a style of Leanne and Flora's (their sophomore teammates) choosing. The girls had already decided on a mohawk cut, and Harry's been struggling to imagine it ever since.
They're clustered in Harry and Puck's hotel room, ostensibly to bury their sorrows in junk food, and it's not a bad time. Puck's somehow smuggled in a bottle of vodka they've mixed with lemonade, and Mr Sinclair has (mercifully) been pretty lax with the bed checks.
"Hell yes," Puck emphatically replies, "It's going to be epic!"
Flora sighs wistfully, and combs a hand through Puck's hair. SHe's a little tipsy, and Harry makes a mental note to cut her off the vodka. "Your hair's so nice though. I love these curls."
Leanne nods her agreement. "They're really nice, Puck. Are you sure you want to?"
Puck nods, "I'd probably have shaved it anyway."
"I'll make the appointment then," Flora acquiesces, "It's a group outing, isn't it?"
Harry and Puck aren't particularly close friends with Flora or Leanne, but over too many hours of research, discussion, planning, editing, and practising, they've developed something of a rapport. It probably wouldn't happen often, but Harry can't imagine it'd be a chore to spend a few hours with the girls, and moreover, Harry doesn't want to end the Euro Challenge on an even worse note than third place.
"Of course," Harry confirms, "Someone will have to make sure he doesn't back out."
Puck squints at him, mock affronted. "Are you questioning my badassness?"
Harry's pretty sure there isn't a correct answer to that, so he pours himself another drink (solely lemonade), shoves a handful of chips in his mouth, and pretends he hadn't heard the question.
"Your mum's going to kick your arse."
"Nah, she's all for expressing one's self and shit," Puck answers, "As long as I can still wear a kippah for Passover next week, I'm good."
Harry eyes him dubiously, unconvinced, but doesn't argue. "If you say so."
"What happens if you can't?" Leanne asks, curious.
"Dad will be here, so if Mom doesn't beat him to it, then he'll shave what isn't already gone."
Pucks' Dad, Mr Dubois, is visiting for Passover with his new girlfriend. Puck's not particularly enthused by the prospect of another woman in his father's life, but on his own, he'd come to the conclusion that it wasn't any of his business, and so long as everyone remained happy, then he wouldn't complain.
Harry doesn't pretend to understand it. Mr Dubois and Ms Puckerman are pretty amicable - apparently they're friends, even - but spending a holiday with your ex-wife and current girlfriend seems a little excruciating.
It's none of Harry's business, in any case, so he doesn't dwell on it much.
"Well, just in case, we'll have to take a lot of photos," Leanne says decisively, "No one would believe us, otherwise."
"Put them on Facebook," Flora agrees.
And unsurprisingly, Puck doesn't argue.
-!- -#-
Under the supervision of his mother, Harry drives home. His parents are pretty supportive of his determination to receive his license as soon as possible, and subsequently, Harry's already clocked 25 practice hours behind the wheel. He's completed his eight hours of driving lessons, too, and although it hasn't been completely smooth sailing, Harry's enthusiasm hasn't waned.
"Have you heard from Dad?"
"Yes," Lily answers, "I speak to him every day. He's helping your grandparents settle in to Cardigan and whatnot. Everything's all right, so far."
Harry nods his acknowledgement, and a knot of worry he's nursed all week loosens. He's still concerned, about his father and grandparents alike, but they speak no more regarding the matter. Instead, Lily updates Harry on her and Kate's uneventful week in Lima, on her most recent phone call with her unpleasant sister, Petunia, on events at the Steam House in his absence. She quizzes Harry on the Euro Challenge, commiserates with Harry about their loss, and then distracts him with an impromptu singalong to Whitney Houston's 'Greatest Hits' album. It's a riot, and Harry's still smiling by the time they make it home.
Kate's there with Colin, cuddled up on the back patio, doting on Frodo and Sam and being generally cutesy. They've been together for two months now, and in that time, it's become abundantly obvious that Colin more or less worships the ground Kate walks on.
It'd be disturbing, perhaps, if it wasn't entirely reciprocal, but nevertheless, Harry's baffled by it.
How can 14 year olds be so rapt up in each other to the exclusion of everyone else? Not unhealthily, thank God for small favours, but it's as though they're completely oblivious to the attractive qualities of other people, and Harry doesn't get it. He's not sure he's ever felt like that.
"Why aren't you pissed that they were home alone?"
"Because I've had a very open conversation with your sister regarding their relationship, and she's not at all prepared to have sex," Lily replies frankly.
Harry grimaces. He has no intention of being an overprotective brother, but honestly, "Too much information, Mum."
"You asked."
"I'll never do that again," he mumbles, helps himself to a punnet of strawberries, and approaches the door, "I'm off."
"Where are you going?" Lily calls after him.
"The park!"
As part of Ethan Summerby's birthday celebrations, Cedric's organised an informal soccer game at a park near their school, and Harry's actually looking forward to it. Invitations are open, but most of the people attending are soccer enthusiasts and friends, and it's a new, refreshing change from the usual Saturday night party he's come to expect from the student body of William McKinley High.
Fred and George Weasley had been onto something when they'd mentioned, early on in the school year, how repetitive such parties became. Too bad Harry hadn't really understood the fact at the time.
-!- -#-
There's already a game in play by the time Harry arrives, but Cedric's flipping burger patties on the barbecue. His dad's close by, in conversation with someone else's dad, and Cedric looks kind of bored.
"Hey," Harry greets his friend, "Great turn out."
Most of the two WMHS soccer teams have made an appearance, as have assorted friends and family members. Viktor and Fleur are there, cuddling under the shade of a maple tree, lost in a world of their own. Between school, their respective commitments, and life in general, Harry hasn't seen much of them lately, but they look all right - happy, if a bit worn out - and it's good to see.
"Hey," Cedric replies, pleasantly surprised, "You made it."
"I did," Harry confirms, "Mum just wanted to come straight home, so…"
"How did the competition go?"
"Third place. We're not going to DC, but," he shrugs. Maybe it's just that he's so tired, but Harry can't find it in himself to be too cut up about it. He'd done his best, and although it's trite, it's all he could have done.
"Third is still pretty awesome," Cedric concludes. He flips a few more patties, and Mr Diggory watches him with a gimlet eye. Cedric remains unfazed. "How was it, otherwise?"
"Pretty good," Harry answers, "What about you? How's your break been?"
Cedric shrugs. "Can't complain. Been waiting for the ACT scores to come back, but I don't know, I'm not too worried. I'm sitting the SAT's in June, and they're my main priority."
Sitting the ACT's and SAT's both seems like a horrible idea to Harry, but each to their own, he supposes. He's got no idea what he'll do at that point, himself, but he's got time to think about it, and more pressing is the question of whether or not he'll sit his O Levels at the end of his Sophomore Year. His parents haven't insisted on it, but they've expressed that it's something they'd like he and Kate to consider for themselves; particularly if either of them are interested or invested in a future in the UK.
harry, who is more or less expected to return to the motherland at some point in the future, has begun researching the requirements and expectations of a student sitting the International O Levels, and they are rather demanding. A lot more than the standard US high school curriculum, in any case.
"Have you started looking at colleges?"
Cedric nods. "I want to have a short list by summer, but I guess we'll see if I actually manage it."
"Good luck," Harry offers his friend a quick, encouraging squeeze on the shoulder, and Cedric gives him a brief, tired smile.
"Thanks, man."
Harry wanders the gathering, greeting friends and acquaintances as he goes. Leanne's side by side with Katie, giggling over a few upperclassmen on the impromptu soccer field. Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Frankie are clustered around a picnic bench, mowing their way through potato chips, pretzels, crackers and the like, and critiquing the soccer game between mouthfuls.
On the impromptu field, boys and girls play indiscriminately, Fred and George, Lee, Ethan, Angelina and Alicia among them. There are others, Padma Patil, Terence Higgs and Graeme Montague to name a few, and it seems as though they're having a blast.
Harry helps himself to a can of soda from one of the coolers, drops into a seat beside Ron, and knocks fists, clasps hands, and offers waves in greeting. Cedric's organised a great party, and with soccer, food, and company on the table, it's an ideal way to end his (entirely too brief) Spring Break.