The Great Hall that night was full of gossiping students, each glancing at the Boy-Who-Lived in between discussing the latest rumour. Was he really the new Seeker? The youngest in a century? Some claimed he had saved a girl falling off the Owlery with a hundred metre dive, whilst others claimed it was all a lie to cover up the fact Gryffindor had nobody competent to play Seeker this year. Harry just ignored the rumours, only confirming his new status to those who asked. These people, invariably, had then sprinted away to tell their friends, excited to know the truth of the rumour mill. Finally, Gryffindor's famed Chaser trio had come over to learn the truth of the matter. Now, Harry was telling the story to the spellbound girls.
"Then, everybody goes silent. Suddenly, McGonagall is behind me, spluttering with what I figured was total fury, right? So, she he takes me to Wood, and suddenly she's telling me that I'm going to be Gryffindor's next Seeker!" He finished with aplomb, ignoring the glare Hermione was sending him from further down the table.
"Wicked." Ron breathed, in total awe of his friend (despite this being he third time he'd heard the tale) as the three Chasers gave a little squeal of excitement.
"This is brilliant! Nobody'll be able to stop us this year!" Johnson crowed, her fist pumping a little as she looked at Spinnet triumphantly. "Told you the twins were telling the truth!"
Spinnet smiled tolerantly before replying. "Hey, don't look at me like that, its not my fault! How was I supposed to know the one time they tell the truth is when Harry ruddy Potter becomes the youngest Seeker in a century?" She grumbled, flipping the bird to the Weasley twins, who were grinning happily at their teammate.
Bell, meanwhile, looked over the moon with the turn of events. "I can't believe it. If you had told me this time last year I'd be Chaser, and I'd be playing with Harry Potter, I'd get Pomfrey to bring you back to St. Mungo's where you bloody well belong."
Harry grinned, genuinely a little touched by the trio's enthusiasm. When he had made Seeker in his second year, the announcement had been treated with varying degrees of scepticism, jealousy, and accusations that the whole thing was political. They were right, of course, everything in Slytherin had been political, but it still hurt a little.
"Meeting our newest member, ladies?" The voice of a terribly smug Oliver Wood said from behind Harry.
"We would've done it earlier if you'd told us, Wood." Johnson said accusingly, albeit with a mischievous glint in her eye that suggested she wasn't serious.
Wood blanched a little as he chivvied Ron out of the way a little, sitting next to Harry and opposite the girls. "McGonagall told me not to tell anyone! It was meant to be a surprise, but, well.." He had the decency to look a little abashed. "I had to tell somebody, didn't I? And they told somebody, who overheard it, and now.." he gestured helplessly to the unusually ebullient hall.
"Well, at least Dumbledore'll have to lift the first year rule now that everybody's heard about it, right?" Bell opined optimistically, before looking at Wood nervously. "He will have to, right? He can't just let Harry sit on the sidelines, can he Ollie?"
Wood made a calming motion with his hands. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Katie. Professor McGonagall has a knack for getting what she wants."
Harry nodded sagely. "I'm just glad I'm not getting expelled. Or worse, detention with Filch."
The little group Harry had around him laughed uproariously (apparently they found his joke far funnier than he did), drawing the ire of Hermione. If looks could kill, she'd be as dangerous as the Dark Lord.
"Or with Quirrell." Bell complained. "I don't think you'd be able to get the smell out for weeks." She wrinkled her nose, to the further amusement of her compatriots.
With that change of topic, Harry saw an opportunity. He wanted to unmask Quirrell, and relatively quickly. But he certainly didn't want his reasoning to be "I came back from the future." He'd end up in St. Mungo's or in Azkaban, and that was assuming that old fool Dumbledore didn't rip his secrets out with Legilimency and change the timeline to his liking. He may have been the most powerful wizard of his age, but a skilled political player, he was not. Hence, he needed a reason to suspect Quirrell, and the more people he got asking questions about the man, the easier it would be to make his deduction seem…organic. With that in mind, he began to speak.
"Speaking of Quirrell….does something seem.. I dunno, off about him to any of you? He's always got that weird turban on, and the whole garlic thing…I mean, does he really think a vampire could break into Hogwarts?"
Everybody looked thoughtful for a moment, before Bell piped up. "Yeah, that is weird, actually. I mean, was he always this weird in Muggle Studies, Ollie?"
Wood considered for a moment. "I mean, he was always a total coward. The garlic thing is new, but its not exactly out of character for him."
Seeing the group's declining interest in the subject, Harry spoke up again. "Yeah, I guess…its just that whenever I go near him my scar starts hurting and itching…it could be nothing, I guess, but.."
The group looked at him silently for a moment.
"Woah. Maybe your scar can detect evil." Ron suggested, his eyes wide with the possibilities.
Wood snorted with derision. "Oh, please. Quirrell can't be evil, have you seen the man? He stutters worse than the school brooms. I'm surprised he can cast a spell he stutters so much."
Bell's look of concern showed her disagreement with her captain. "I don't know, Ollie. I mean, if Harry's scar is acting weird around Quirrell, it might be worth talking to McGonagall about it. Have you talked to her, Harry?"
He shook his head. "I don't want to bother if I'm just imagining things. Besides, I only ever see him in the DADA classroom, so it might just be something there instead."
Most of the group nodded, but Bell didn't look convinced. "Maybe…but if it keeps happening, promise me you'll go to McGonagall, okay?" Her anxious blue eyes locked onto his, until he looked away. He flushed a little with embarrassment. It was rare somebody cared so much, even if was (presumably) because she wanted to play Quidditch with him.
"Alright. If it keeps happening, I'll go to McGonagall." He mumbled, trying to stop his embarrassment from showing any further.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
With that, the team moved onto lighter topics, like their opposition team makeup, and strategies they could use. Ron looked like he was in heaven, and he even had a few decent strategies to offer that stopped him from being a total nuisance. For his part, Harry was content to let them talk, offering a comment here or there. It wouldn't do to seem too knowledgeable about the sport, after all.
A few days later, after a few well placed enquiries, an pair of owls came into the Great Hall in the morning with a package that could only be one thing. It landed, of course, in front of one Harry James Potter. A note followed a moment after, landing on top of the long, thin rectangular parcel. Harry, after giving the owls a well deserved cut of bacon, opened the note which read:
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.
It contains your new Cleansweep Seven, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch pitch at seven o'clock for your first training session.
Professor McGonagall.
Ignoring the curious looks the package was getting him, Harry silently showed the note to Ron and Neville.
Ron spoke up first, passing the note across the table to Lavender and Parvarti. "Blimey. A new Cleansweep? That's brilliant! I thought for sure she was going to get you the new Nimbus though." He added with disappointment.
She had, in fact, been planning to until Harry asked her not to. Whilst the Nimbus was undoubtedly a marvel of modern magical engineering, Harry had always preferred the Cleansweep brand. Whilst not as flashy, nor as capable of reaching such high speeds, they made up for it with slightly better handling. Plus, they were slightly better over a short sprint, with higher acceleration than the Nimbus. Besides, his father had owned a Cleansweep.
Neville, meanwhile, was absentmindedly rubbing at his arm as he stared at the parcel, undoubtedly thinking about what was inside it.
They went back to finishing their meals, but after a few minutes, Harry decided that the amount of goggling and whispers in the hall was quickly approaching critical mass. "Alright, I'm going back to the dorms to open it. Anybody coming with?"
Lavender and Parvarti shook their heads, clearly intending to share the news to Dunbar and her friend. Neville just blanched at the thought and went back to picking at his toast.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world mate." Ron answered, his tone of voice suggesting that was very literally the case.
They stood up quickly and hurried through the doors, eager to get upstairs and crack open the parcel. However, their excitement was quickly dispelled as, standing in the entrance hall, were two large lumps of muscle, and their master was not far behind. The two boys tried not to arouse their attention, and surreptitiously edged to the other side of the hall from Draco and his goons.
Harry knew if there was one thing other than fits of pique his once-friend was adept at, it was fits of raging jealousy for something he couldn't have. Unfortunately, their attempts to avoid the trio's attention were unfruitful. Malfoy nudged Crabbe and Goyle, who stalked over, staring dumbly at the two Gryffindors.
Harry was expecting a cutting remark, or at least a query as to the parcel. What he did not expect was for the Slytherin to not even say hello, and instead try to grab the parcel far Harry's hands.
Harry jerked the parcel back furiously. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Going around grabbing people's parcels, honestly?"
Malfoy coloured red, although Harry couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment at being called out or anger at not getting what he wanted.
"That's a broomstick, isn't it Potter?" He snarled, jealously and spite warring on his features. "First years aren't allowed them! You'll be in for it this time."
"Whats the problem, Malfoy?" Ron spat, putting his body between the two. "jealous Harry's got something your father can't buy your way into?"
"You're one to talk, Weasley. I can't imagine your family's ever been able to buy their way into anything." Malfoy sneered back.
"What's all this, children?" A tiny face spoked up from behind Malfoy's elbow. "Not arguing, are we?" He asked meaningfully.
"Potter's got a broom Professor! And I bet he was sneaking away to his dorm to open it!" Malfoy crowed, his eyes glaring triumphantly at the two boys.
"Yes, yes that's right." Flitwick said, beaming at Harry. "A new Cleansweep, wasn't it? And don't worry, Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances. You know, Mr. Potter, your father used to ride a Cleansweep as well? A Model Five, I believe. I'm sure you'll live up to his legacy." The little man(?) said kindly.
"I hope so sir. Thanks to Malfoy here, I have that chance." He said smarmily, eliciting a bark of laughter from Ron.
Flitwick, clearly a little confused by that comment, and the rapidly reddening face of the Slytherin, decided the safest course was to dismiss them both. "Very good, very good. Well, best run along now, boys. I look forward to seeing you in class!"
With that, Harry and Ron ran up the stairs, their good humour restored and their eagerness to get back to the dormitories redoubled.
"'Thanks to Malfoy here, I have that chance.'" Ron guffawed as they reached the top. "Brilliant stuff, Harry."
Harry was caught up in a moment of surreality for a moment. Here he was, with Ron Weasley, laughing about making fun of Draco Malfoy. And it wasn't for a prank or a plan, either. It was just because…well, he was actually enjoying the redhead's company. As if to put an exclamation point on his little moment, Hermione Granger, her face thunderous, looked disapprovingly at them and the parcel.
"I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules?" She demanded sharply.
Ron reacted first "Well somebody had to do it, and you didn't look like you were stepping up."
Harry reacted a moment later. "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." He quoted without looking at her. Let her chew on a taste of her own bookish medicine.
Hermione was taken aback for a moment, but quickly revered. Nothing would stop her when she had her mind set on something. "And I suppose you think breaking the rules is a good thing? You good have been hurt! You could have been killed! You could have lost us House Points or gotten a detention! Honestly!"
"But instead he taught Malfoy a lesson, and saved Neville's Remembrall! Besides, if he had done something wrong, McGonagall would've punished him! Now how about you get over the fact you're not the teacher's favourite and leave us alone! Maybe if you cared about your housemates more than the rules you'd have some friends!" Ron retorted, anger creeping into his voice every word he said.
Hermione's eyes widened a little. Then, she turned her nose up, and without a word, stalked past them down to the Great Hall. They didn't notice the tears in her eyes.
"Honestly," Ron said loudly, hoping she was still in earshot. "she needs to get her priorities in order. House points? Any real Gryffindor would stand by their friends no matter how many points they lost."
Harry avoided looking at the fleeing girl, looking at his friend instead. "That's pretty harsh. Not untrue. But harsh."
Ron cocked his head in a rare moment of thoughtfulness. Then he shook his head. "Well its not my fault she's insufferable. Maybe if she actually cared about people they'd care about her back." He said insightfully, before ruining his illusion of wisdom. "Now, lets get upstairs. I want to see that broom!"