Harry Potter arrived back in the Gryffindor Common Room to find Weasley (the youngest) busy playing Dean in a chessgame. That was fine, desirable, even. But it left Harry without much of a clue what to do. Well, when all else failed, there was always grabbing a shower. He made his way up the stairs (avoiding a trap the twins had set), and set about scrubbing all the blackened cauldron grime off of himself.

It was twenty minutes before he felt presentable, and in all that time, he was trying to figure out how to shed Weasley and get some real work done. The boy was a leech, and liked to cling to Harry. Worse, he hadn't a thought about ever working on homework, or so it seemed. No, all was fun and games for Weasley - except that Harry found his fun and games boring. Harry tended to favor mindgames himself (next year he'd have to smuggle in some playing cards - with a smile as he toweled himself off, he thought of the twins trying to play against each other at cards. Specifically, poker.)

Since Ron was still playing chess (and Harry had made enough infantile mistakes to be partly banned), Harry wound up over by the Weasley twins, who at least wouldn't stare at him like he was some sort of beast or mascot. Quietly, they said to him, "Heard you made it!" The grins on their matching faces told him all that he needed to know - Ollie had told his two Beaters, and they were happy for him. "Here's the notes." One said.

"Read 'em, memorize them." The other responded.

"Ollie'll change them by tommorrow!" They both said together, and broke out in uproarious laughter. Harry smiled, but wasn't sure if they were serious about him learning them all. Well, it didn't matter, it was something to study, and Harry would find some time to get it accomplished.

Neville came stumbling in about two hours later, his fingers shaking. "How'd detention go?" Harry asked, as he gently guided Neville away from the clusters of people and up the stairs. Neville didn't deserve to be made fun of, not for having put that much effort in.

"I don't know how you do it, Harry." Neville said with a sigh, "And so quickly too!"

"Lots, and lots of practice." Harry said with a soft smile that neatly concealed his bitterness at exactly how much practice he'd had.

While Neville was getting his own luxurious shower, Harry slipped into his bed, pulling the curtains down and fastening them with a quick cantrip from Everyday Cantrips that someone had left lying around the Common Room. He opened the Twin's battered folder (did they not have enough money to get new ones, or were they really beating them this hard on a regular basis? With those two, it was hard to tell). His mouth curved into a small smile as he read on, learning as he went that he didn't really have any job at all to do. All Ollie had ever written for him was "Find the Snitch." Of course, Harry knew it was slightly more involved than that - he had to catch it, after all. But this meant that practice was going to be a breeze! And that was relieving, because he needed time. It felt like the year was sliding through his fingers, and that at any moment, someone might sneak up behind him and start to throttle the air right out of his lungs.

He needed to be prepared.

Thoughtfully, he started to review his plans for the morrow, lying down in his bed until he heard Ron tromple upstairs, at which point he stashed the folder in the space between the frame and the spring, and with an inward sigh, flung open the curtains. Ron cried as he saw Harry, "There you are! My brothers and I are going snipe hunting!"

Lovely, Harry thought, the gullible Gryffindor was being lulled into a trap by those gaily colored songbirds he called brothers. And, like the lovely friend he was, he was going to drag Harry in on it.

[a/n: Bridging to Sunday. Leave a review if you like it, or especially if you don't!]