Chapter Three: Safe Inside
"Are you nervous?"
Harry glanced at Luna, who was walking on his right side. He hadn't said a word for almost a full hour, which seemed to be worrying his two best friends.
"Is his vow of silence supposed to help him?" Neville asked Luna from Harry's left side, talking around their mutual friend.
Harry glared at his friends, though he still said nothing.
They shared a laugh at his expense, before all three of them turned serious. They'd barely eaten dinner, and Harry couldn't deny that he was nervous. What helped was that Jack looked to be feeling the same.
Harry noticed that Jack and his pals kept trying to get him alone in the buildup to this meeting, and he suspected that they had sinister intentions. They wanted to make sure that Harry didn't show up at the pitch, but Luna and Neville hadn't left him alone since breakfast. Harry even set up significant wards around his bed because, really, he was practically sleeping in the Lion's den.
Harry was going to outfly Jack, and everyone was going to witness it.
They arrived at the pitch early. Well, what they thought was early. It was just gone half past seven, and the stands were already starting to fill up with students a plenty.
"Do you think the entire school is going to be here?" Neville asked.
"Probably," Luna answered. "If they know about the challenge; then they'll definitely be here. And, I suspect that Jack would have made sure the entire school knew. Though, I don't think it was a good idea. Now, everyone is going to see him get beaten."
That made Harry grin like a madman.
Neville let out a long breath. "Maybe you should start getting ready, Harry," he suggested. "Where's your broom?"
Harry pat his pocket.
"Why would you shrink your broomstick?" Neville asked incredulously. "Anything could go wrong with the expansion."
Luna looked at Neville. "It's built into the broom, Nev," she told him. "It's a sizing-mechanism."
"Oh."
Harry smiled at him.
Neville smiled back. "For the record, Harry; I hope that you do win tonight. I, for one, would love for you to wipe the smug smile off of Jack's face."
"I second that," Luna added.
Harry might have replied, but he didn't. He wasn't going to speak until Jack arrived. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait all that long for that to happen.
"Look who actually decided to show up."
Harry, Neville and Luna turned to look to their collective right and spied Jack and Ron approaching them, accompanied by Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins, Fred and George. They were all Seventh-Years, and so 'impartial' enough to officiate proceedings, apparently.
Harry eventually had to agree. He liked Lee. The twins were an entirely different story, but even he had to admit that he was rather biased when it came to them. He'd been on the receiving end of one too many of their sinister pranks, courtesy of their allegiance to his brother, and Harry would never forget.
Harry cleared his throat. "Why? Did you think I wasn't coming?"
Jack didn't reply, his jaw tensing. He rather turned to look at Lee. "Would you like to do the honours?"
Lee stepped forward and cast the Sonorus Charm on himself, so that his voice would carry to the stands. "Welcome, everyone," he said. "The rules today are simple. I'm going to release the Snitch, and the first Potter to catch it, wins. Fred is in charge of making things difficult for Jack, and George will do the same for Harry." At that, he turned to the two Potter boys. "There won't be any direct intervention, but don't be surprised if you find a charmed bludger headed your way. Are there any questions?"
If anything, Harry truly wanted to ask where Hermione was. He'd thought she would be here, if only to reprimand him for his obvious stupidity. Was Ginny watching? Maybe they were sitting somewhere in the stands together.
Lee waited another beat, before he spoke again. "Okay then. Get ready. We'll start in five minutes."
Jack and Harry exchanged a rather heated look, and then Jack was looking up into the stands and waving. The sound of the cheering was quite overwhelming, but Harry didn't allow it to affect him. He'd already resigned himself to the fact that his own support would be minimal, but still more meaningful. In fact, he suspected that he had only two supporters, and that was perfectly fine with him.
Harry turned towards his friends and smiled sheepishly, vaguely aware of the fact that Lee was explaining the afters of the challenge to the crowd. It was better that they knew now, so Jack wouldn't be able to back out. If he lost, he was off the team. Full stop.
"Is it too late to fake an injury?" Harry asked his friends.
Neville chuckled. "I think so, mate."
He exaggerated a sigh, as he retrieved his broomstick from his pocket and activated the sizing-mechanism. In one, swish and silent move, it was restored to its normal size, and Harry couldn't help his grin.
"If only Jack knew what was coming," Neville commented, somewhat darkly.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I think you've been spending too much time with Luna," he said; "you're starting to sound like her."
The Hufflepuff blushed; he actually blushed, and Harry was left to wonder why that might be. Another time. He had something else to focus on right now.
Luna cleared her throat, and Harry turned his body to face her fully. "Not everyone deserves to know the real you, Harry," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and making sure that he was looking at her. "Let them criticise who they think you are."
All he did was nod.
"Now, go and give them hell," she said, putting on that innocent face that she so loved, basically fooling everyone.
Neville and Harry exchanged a look.
"Yes, Harry," Neville said, patting him on the back; "She did just say what you think she just said."
Lee spoke up again, getting everyone's attention. "Are you both ready?"
Luna released Harry and stepped back. Neville moved to stand at her side, and Harry tried to force away his sudden, overwhelming panic. He would be fine. He had much less to lose than Jack did because, truly, he already had very little.
"Move into position," Lee instructed, and Harry did as he was told.
He didn't even look at Jack as they both mounted their brooms, and stood poised for takeoff. His mother's face flashed in his mind's eye, and it just made him that more determined. And then terrified.
"On your mark," Lee called out as he raised the Snitch in his right hand, and the crowd started to bustle from anticipation. "Ready. Get set." He paused. "Go!"
The Snitch flew out of Lee's hand, Jack quickly only its tail.
Harry turned to his friends. "My mother never finds out about this," he said, before he too took off, shooting up into the sky at a dangerous speed, an excited shriek escaping his lips. He was practically a blur, and Luna gripped Neville's arm so tightly that it started to hurt.
Really, the entire thing was over in a blink of an eye.
Then it was best of three.
Best of five.
Lee called an end to proceedings after that, declaring the obvious winner.
Only one Potter left the Quidditch pitch with a smile on his face, and there had been three in attendance.
"Hey there, Potter," Hermione said, standing over said wizard, and getting Harry's attention. She'd spent all afternoon searching for him, given that he'd avoided eating his meals in the Great Hall like the plague. It surprised her, really, because she thought that he might have wanted to gloat, or even rub his victory in his brother's face.
But then she had to remember that Harry was not Jack.
Even Jack seemed rather subdued, and Hermione could only guess that it had something to do with James Potter, who was probably livid that his son had been ousted from the Quidditch team by the son he refused to acknowledge even existed.
When Harry looked up from where he was sitting at his usual table in the library, he was surprised to see a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Hey you," he breathed, matching her smile with one of his own.
"Mind if I sit?"
Harry cast a quick look around, noticing that the library was surprisingly empty. Well, it was Friday afternoon; what did he expect? "Sure."
It took her a while to settle down. She even pulled out a notebook of some sort and a clutch pencil with a ladybug eraser at its top. Harry found it rather adorable that she wasn't using a quill, but he said nothing.
"What are you reading?" she eventually asked, tapping the top edge of his textbook with the back of her pencil.
"Advanced Warding Techniques. Have to make sure my things are protected."
Hermione regarded him for a moment, watching him as if she were searching for something telling in his features.
"What's wrong, Granger?" he asked, sensing her anxiety.
"Nothing," she said quickly. Then she sighed. "Okay, that's a lie, and I told myself that I never wanted to lie to you."
"You did?"
She nodded, smiling slightly. "You're just different, Potter, and I'm pretty sure that deceiving someone like you would count as a greater sin than deceiving someone like me."
He frowned in confusion. What on earth was she going on about? "Umm?"
She gave him a small smile. "Are you going to try out?" she eventually asked, cutting to the real reason that she initiated a conversation with him.
Harry blinked. "Umm," he sounded. "To be honest, I haven't really decided yet."
That was a surprise to her. "You haven't?"
He dropped his gaze, trying to figure out how to explain to her his reasons. "James came to the pitch last night," he said softly, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. "Near the end, did you see him there?"
"No," she said, frowning at the fact that she hadn't seen the man who made life difficult for her best friend, and for the boy sitting in front of her.
But then, the previous night, Hermione had been more focused on Harry anyway. She was surprised by how much she'd wanted him to win, just to see his face light up with deserved happiness.
Because he did deserve it.
"He was mad... he looked so angry," Harry explained. "And I suppose that I feel bad about it, you know?"
Hermione quieted quite substantially, her movements stilling and her breathing shallowing. His heart really was too good and pure.
"Jack looked devastated, Granger," he said, his own face showing some of his own devastation. "It didn't matter to me, not really, whether I won or lost, because I've lived my whole life as invisible. It meant so much more to him than it ever did to me."
"Harry," she breathed.
"So I haven't really decided yet," he said again.
"Merlin, you are so not what I thought," she said automatically, shaking her head as she forced away everything she believed she knew about him; everything Jack had told her about him. "Are you even real?"
Harry blushed. "You know, I think that's the first time that you've actually called me by my first name."
"Hmm?"
"Harry," he said; "you called me Harry."
"Oh," she sounded; "Do you mind?"
He shook his head. "That doesn't mean that I'm going to stop calling you Granger," he said cheekily.
"Is that so?" she asked, blushing slightly.
"Oh, definitely."
She let out a light laugh. "I'll get you to call me Hermione one of these days. I'm sure of it."
"Everybody needs a dream."
She regarded him for a moment, taking in all that she could. "I should let you get back to your work," she said, catching herself staring. "I have to go wrangle my boys to get them to work on their Defence essays. Are you done with yours?"
Harry nodded yes. Then, for a terrifying moment, he was tempted to ask her to stay, but the words didn't come out. They wouldn't.
Hermione hesitated, as if she were contemplating asking him something as well, but eventually decided against it and started to pack her notebook away.
Harry merely watched her as she stood up and pushed her chair back in under the table.
"I'll see you later," she said quietly, before she turned and walked away.
Again, Harry just watched her leave, unable to stop himself from thinking that he - maybe - was about to make his first friend in Gryffindor.
"You're not going to try out, are you?"
Sometimes Harry hated that Luna knew him as well as she did. He couldn't hide anything from her, even if he tried.
"It's all over your face," she said, eyeing him curiously as she temporarily abandoned her work in favour of interrogating her best friend. It was much later on Friday night, and the library was practically empty. Even Neville refused to work this early on the weekend. "What decided for you?" she asked.
"What makes you think I didn't decide for myself?"
"Because I know you, Harry," she said; "and you're kind and noble and sometimes I just want to slap you upside the head."
Harry chuckled involuntarily, then cast a look around to make sure he hadn't disturbed the peace of the library. The few people about hadn't even noticed. "Has anyone ever told you that you're rather violent?"
"You might have mentioned it a few times, yes," she said, smiling at him. "Though, I'm still not sure what you're talking about."
"Sure you're not."
"Seriously, Harry," she said. "What made you decide? Or, possibly, who?"
Against his better judgment, his mind flew towards a certain brunette witch, and he grimaced. Since when was Hermione Granger ever a factor in anything, let alone the future of his life in Hogwarts: his second home - or third home, if you counted Sirius' Grimmauld Place as a home, which Harry did?
"Harry?" Luna prompted.
"I think it was James," he confessed after a moment. "And Jack, I guess. I hate him, and he hates me and, as much fun as it is to see him squirm; it's just not the same when James is the one causing it."
Luna nodded thoughtfully. "They don't deserve your kindness, you know?"
"I know."
"It'll probably drive them crazy though, if they ever knew."
"Exactly."
Luna regarded him for a moment, before she returned her attention to the essay she was writing. From the crease in her brow, Harry could tell that it was probably Potions. That expression was reserved for Potions.
They worked for almost an hour, before Luna spoke up again, seemingly having made a decision about the situation as a whole. "I think you should do it."
"Do what?"
"Try out for the team."
Harry frowned. "Umm, Luna, but aren't you the one who practically flayed me when I accepted Jack's challenge?"
"I was, and I did," she said; "I still stand by it. That was stupid, but this is what I also know, Harry: you deserve this. You. You have to do it for you and only you. Not your mother, not even your House."
"And this is why I should try out?"
"I know you'll regret it if you don't," she said. "And you'll always wonder if you are actually good enough. It's one thing to beat Jack the way that you did last night; but making it onto the team will be bigger, and all I've ever wanted was bigger things for you."
The wizard took a long, deep breath. "I think you've been talking to my mother a little too much."
"Lily loves me."
"I bet she does."
"Will you at least think about it?" she asked. "Don't worry about other people, okay? For once in your life, be selfish. If you truly want it, go for it. The rest of us don't matter. Just you, Harry. You are the only one."
Harry was always surprised whenever he was forced to remember that she was younger than him. It was only by a little less than seven months, but it was still somewhat substantial, given the maturity that she showed. He supposed that losing her mother the way that she had shaped her in ways he would never understand.
Which was why he was so happy that Luna had such a wonderful relationship with his mother. In fact, so did Neville. Lily Evans was the mother to them all, given that they all had varying degrees of parental figures in their own lives.
"I'll think about it," Harry eventually said. If he were to consider only himself, then the decision would be easy. He would try out in a heartbeat.
But things weren't that simple.
They'd never been.
And, if he did decide to try out, they truly never would be.
The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement on Saturday morning. It was the first time that Harry braved entering it since he'd viciously outflown Jack on Thursday night, and he received a rather mixed reception. When he'd first accepted the challenge; he hadn't considered what it would actually mean for Jack, and the fact that he was Lily's son made him feel conflicted.
Harry moved to sit down at the Gryffindor table, deftly ignoring the glares he was receiving from students he didn't even know. He couldn't tell if they were glaring because he'd gone up against Jack at all, or because he'd beaten him. Did it even matter?
Harry made sure to sit a little way's away from his year mates. He kept his head down and tried to get rid of the conflicted feeling that'd been plaguing him since he'd seen Jack with James on Thursday night.
Harry was going to try out, that much he knew, but he wasn't yet sure for which position. His decision would be defining; that much was for sure.
He ate quickly, suddenly too nervous to stomach anything more than a few pieces of fruit and a goblet of pumpkin juice. Perhaps he should have written to Sirius again. His godfather would know what to say about all this. But, alas, Harry was on his own now, and he had decisions to make.
The first thing Harry noticed when he arrived at the Quidditch pitch for the tryouts was that there were a lot of spectators. Clearly, lots of people wanted to see what all the fuss was about Harry: the other Potter intent on stealing the limelight from his far superior brother.
Or they just wanted to see him make a complete fool of himself.
Or hurt himself. Maybe he'd end up killing himself.
Was Harry actually the real deal?
As expected, Jack wasn't to be seen. Harry suspected that the boy would have shown up to put up a fight, but he'd managed to get himself a detention by talking back to the unreasonable Professor Umbridge. Even though Harry knew the punishment was unfair; Jack should have known better than to engage with the woman. For anyone watching close enough; they would have seen that she was stupidly stubborn and obviously out to make Jack look like he was even more of a lunatic.
Not that she had to try all that hard.
Harry supposed that the only thing that he had going for him was that he too was invisible to Umbridge, otherwise she would have targeted him as well. Though, the boy suspected that he definitely wouldn't have made it as easy as Jack had.
Parts of the Ministry were still hard-pressed to deny the return of Voldemort, including their minion, Dolores Umbridge and her puppeteer, Minister of Magic: Cornelius Fudge; but then there were the few Ministry employees who were resisting. James Potter was one of them.
Harry sighed.
His father was not his problem, because James made it abundantly clear that Harry wasn't his problem either.
Besides the many spectators, there weren't all that many students trying out for the team. With an almost full team already, it was no wonder that only a few people decided to show up. Harry recognised their faces but he didn't know all their names.
Angelina Johnson, the Quidditch Captain, wasted no time in getting their attention and calling a start to proceedings. "Welcome," she said, her face remaining expressionless. "As you know, we're looking for a new Keeper this year," she explained. "And now, owing to circumstances, it appears that we're looking for a new Seeker as well."
Harry didn't drop his gaze when Angelina, and the rest of the team, turned their heads to glare at him. If anything, it merely firmed his resolve.
"Separate into two groups then. Keepers and Seekers."
Harry, once again, was hit with that conflicted feeling. He kept picturing Jack's face, and... urgh.
"Why aren't you moving, Potter?" Angelina barked out at him.
Harry took a breath. "Is it possible to try out for both positions?" he asked, feeling the weight of his body shift. He didn't know if something had been placed on it, or lifted up. Either way, it didn't feel pleasant.
"Trying to monopolise my team, are you?"
"Just trying to determine where my skills will be put to the best use," he said simply. "And, if I'm any good at Keeper, maybe I'll consider letting you get your dumb Seeker back."
"Didn't you just prove that you're a better flyer than he is?"
"So? I might be a better Keeper than everyone here as well," he said.
"Like that could ever happen."
Harry turned towards the new voice. Ronald Weasley was all decked out in his Keeper protective gear, clearly ready to do battle. He looked positively psyched up, which was probably Jack's doing. Maybe Hermione's as well.
"The position is mine," the redhead said.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is that what Jack told you?"
Ron's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you just stay where you were?"
"Which was where exactly, Weasley?"
"In a box."
Harry tilted his head to the side, wondering just how he felt about this boy. He was Jack's best friend, so he should have automatically hated him, surely. But that couldn't be said for Hermione Granger, so why would it be the same for Ron? It was true that the boy was more inclined to back Jack up, but Harry could remember seeing the redhead attempt to reel Jack in a few times.
And, unsurprisingly, that meant something to Harry.
"If you are the better Keeper, then they will pick you," Harry said flatly. "If not, wouldn't you want Gryffindor to have the strongest team?"
Ron merely scowled.
Angelina got the tryouts started then. She started with the Seekers, of which there were only two trying out. Harry was the overwhelming favourite, easily outflying the young Third-Year who dared to dream of emulating the great Jack Potter.
It was with the Keepers that things got a bit more tricky.
The thing was that Angelina didn't expect for Harry to be any good at Keeping, but the boy was just full of surprises, wasn't he? She and her fellow Chasers threw several plays at him, but he really was very good on his broom. Even Oliver Wood would have been impressed. She might have even gone so far as to say that Harry was better than Oliver, even at his prime.
But he was also a brilliant Seeker. Which left her with quite a dilemma; and a growing headache.
She even had the terrifying thought that he would probably be a better Chaser than some of the girls already on the team. He seemed to have such a keen understanding of the game that it seemed almost child's play for him to adjust his game to whatever position he was put in.
When Harry touched down after saving nine of the ten shots that the greatest Chaser force Gryffindor had ever seen sent his way; he was feeling something he couldn't remember feeling in such abundance before: pride. And he liked it.
"Potter," Angelina eventually said; "let's talk."
Harry's heart rate quickened as he walked towards her, glaringly aware of every eye on him.
"Did you know you were that good at Keeping?" she asked pointedly.
"I might even be good at Chasing," he said; "who knows?"
Despite herself, she laughed. "You're quite cheeky, aren't you?"
"My mum calls it charming."
She shook her head, still rather amused. "Your brother is a great Seeker," she said, and Harry's face fell. "But you're better, as I'm sure you now know," she continued, ignoring his predicted reaction. "Were you serious when you said that you'd consider letting Jack back on the team, given the aftermath of your ridiculous challenge?"
Harry shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, buying himself some time. "As in, he'd play Seeker?"
She nodded. "And you'd be our new Keeper."
Harry thought about it for a moment. If they wanted the best team, and Angelina clearly did, this would be the best option, given the personnel that they had on offer. It was strange for him, wielding all this power. He definitely liked it.
"Potter?" Angelina prompted.
"Okay," he said. "Okay." Then his face split into a wide grin.
"What?" she asked.
"Oh, Merlin, please let me be there when you tell Jack that he has to play on the same team as me? He's going to shit a brick!"
And, really, all Angelina could do was laugh.
If Harry were being completely honest, he would have to describe the first few days after he made the team as trying. Somehow, in such a short time, he was supposed to adjust to his new role in the team, and in the House.
Jack, of course, had let out a flurry of swear words when Angelina informed him of the new positions, and Hermione had to reprimand him quite harshly, even for her. Harry made a mental note not to curse so freely in front of her. Her slaps looked like they hurt.
What bothered Harry the most was that, now that he was on the Quidditch team, he suddenly held some kind of status. It actually disturbed him. Girls were suddenly interested in him and he had to evade their advances as best he could, while still trying to be polite. It just didn't occur to him that being nice to a girl could be seen as so much more than what it was.
"Hey, Mr Popular," Luna teased him as she met him in front of the door to the library, when he stopped by to see her on his way to his first practice with the team the second Tuesday of term. He was, admittedly, a bit nervous about it, but he was trying not to think about it too much. He would drive himself crazy if he did. "Girls keep staring," she said, glancing about the corridor.
"All the time," he said, sounding exasperated. "I just wish that they'd stop."
"I thought you would like it," she said, continuing to tease him and enjoying it a little too much. "Or is it that you want one specific girl to be leering at you, huh?"
Harry panicked. "What?"
"Although, you do remember that Ginny already has her own jock, right?" Luna continued, not noticing the alarm on his face.
"Oh," he breathed. "Right. Ginny."
She frowned. "Don't tell me that you're over your crush?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure that I am," he said; "but would it be so terrible if I was?"
Luna regarded him for a moment. "It wouldn't, no," she said. "I would just be surprised. If I recall correctly, isn't Ginny Weasley going to be the girl you end up marrying?"
"You do realise that I was twelve when I said that, right?"
"Age doesn't matter when it comes to love," Luna said, thoroughly enjoying being able to tease him this way. His blush was adorable.
Harry playfully bumped her with his hip. "I'll bear that in mind the next time I decide to profess my love," he said, shaking his head. "But they'll stop staring eventually, right?" he asked quietly.
"Definitely," she said. "Nothing lasts for long in this place. Jack's bound to do something to bring you down a peg or two."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. His brother had been rather quiet about the entire thing. Maybe he was finally accepting that Harry was now on the team, and that was that? Harry even chuckled. Fat chance of that.
"What?" Luna asked.
"Nothing," he replied. "But I've got to get to practice now. I'll see you later?"
"I'll be in the library until late," she informed him. "Probably trying to figure out how to reply to the letter your mother sent me."
His smile fell at the sound of that. When he'd talked with his mother over their charmed Communication Mirrors after he made the team; she'd been none too pleased with him. It wasn't that she wasn't proud - which she repeatedly told him that she was - it was that she was worried for him. It was one thing for James Potter to ignore the fact that he existed; but it was an entirely different thing to antagonise the bastard - which were her words.
"She'll come around, won't she?" he asked.
"I'm sure she will, Harry," she tried to assure him. "It'll just take some time. Just stay true to who you are, and everything will be fine."
He blinked. "Are you really that worried about me?"
"I'm always worried about you, Harry."
Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't.
"Good luck, okay," she said when he didn't respond. "Stay safe, all right? Try not to die or anything, would you? That'll be a terrible letter I'd have to write to your mother."
Harry chuckled. "Can't have me inconveniencing you like that, now can I?"
"I always knew you cared about me."
Harry met her gaze. "Of course I care about you, Luna," he said seriously. Then: "Is something wrong?"
"No," she said quickly. Too quickly.
"Luna?"
"Go and enjoy your practice, Harry," she said; "We can talk later, all right?"
Harry didn't move. "Luna?"
"Go." Her voice was gentle, but there was no hint of a question in her tone. It was basically a command, and he wasn't going to disobey.
"Promise we'll talk later?"
She nodded. "I promise."
Harry, admittedly, wasn't feeling at all appeased by his talk with Luna as he made his way down to the Quidditch pitch. He felt rather exposed, walking out in the open the way that he was. He was basically inviting an attack.
He arrived early enough at the locker rooms that he was alone when he got changed. He didn't actually have Quidditch robes yet, so he dressed as a Muggle would, when they were about to work out. The perks of living in the Muggle world, he supposed.
He was going to have to get himself a uniform, and soon. He made a note to write home as soon as practice was over. No. He shouldn't be writing to his mother about Quidditch. Sirius then. Harry would pay him back one day, when he made enough money. Or if his mother ever allowed him to access his Potter Trust Vault.
The practice itself wasn't anything to write home about. Jack and the Weasley twins didn't talk to Harry, which was perfectly fine with him. He mostly worked with the Chasers anyway, and Angelina seemed to find his snark funny. They worked on a lot of drills, fitness training and broom handling. Really, the entire thing exhausted Harry. As a result, he was practically dead on his feet when Angelina finally called an end to proceedings.
"All right, hit the showers," she called out. "Same time on Thursday."
Harry grumbled under his breath: "Thursday can take its time."
In the end, Harry would have to blame his fatigue. He was too casual; too comfortable. He stripped down and entered the showers, determined to run his complaining muscles under the stream of water and soothe the growing ache in his limbs. It was the only thing on his mind, really, and he seemed to forget.
Harry Potter forgot that he wasn't alone.
Because, suddenly, it was quiet. Too quiet. When Harry turned off the shower, he felt the first wave of panic. Something was wrong. He just knew it.
His first sign that his feelings weren't baseless was when he couldn't find his towel on the railing he'd left it on. Or any towel for that matter. If Harry weren't so worried about the sinister nature of the prank, he might have found it amusing. But it wasn't. It really wasn't.
And then, of course, his clothes were gone as well. Harry dropped his head, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of this. He was Muggle-raised, and he should have known.
"Of course," he muttered to himself. "It was too good to be true, wasn't it, Harry Potter?"
Harry didn't have anything to dry himself off with. He didn't even have his wand. They'd taken his wand. Take his clothes, whatever, but his wand - that was taking it too far. He suspected that the twins were the ones to get through his Wards. He was definitely going to have to find more potent ones.
He searched the entire locker room from side to side, top to bottom, for anything at all, and the best article of clothing he could find was someone's discarded sock. That was never going to happen.
"Harry?"
His eyes widened. No! This wasn't happening. He had to be dreaming. This had to be a God-awful nightmare.
"Harry? Are you in here?"
He could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer. "Wait," he eventually called out, grabbing the closest thing he could find to cover up his privates.
Hermione rounded the lockers to find Harry standing awkwardly with an old, battered Quaffle held out in front of him, hiding his important bits. His skin looked damp and she couldn't ignore the sight of his exposed body, from the muscles in his legs and arms to his impressive abs.
"Granger?" he practically cried. "God, what are you doing in here?"
The sound of his voice brought her back to reality. "Oh, right," she said. "I brought your bag." She set his tog bag down onto the benches and turned around so he could get dressed. "Found it in the stands. This was a rookie error, Harry."
"What was?" he asked, as he cautiously moved towards his bag. He was struck with a dilemma. Did he put the Quaffle down? He couldn't unzip the bag with one hand. Not really.
"You had to know that Jack was going to try something," she continued. "I mean, isn't it hazing one-oh-one to steal the new guy's clothes during the first practice?"
Harry eventually settled for crouching down, and then dropping the Quaffle, so he was still hidden by the bench if she decided to turn around. "Oh yeah?"
"Don't you watch TV?"
"I read books," he said. "Not much of a TV person."
"Well, you should have known better," she said absently.
"Sorry," he muttered.
Hermione suddenly turned around, just as Harry lifted up his boxers. She didn't even seem all that bothered by the fact that he was half-naked. "Look, all I'm saying is that you have to be even more careful now," she said softly. "It's lucky that I managed to hear him discussing doing something to you with - " she halted. She was not going to tell him that Ginny might have known, and so condoned it. "Just, well, Jack's got the boys all riled up, and the hazing is just going to continue until you can't take it anymore and end up quitting the team."
"Never going to happen," he said gruffly, sliding his t-shirt over his head.
Hermione was mildly disappointed by his actions, but she didn't comment. "That's both good and bad," she said sadly. "But it'll get worse, you know?"
"I can take it."
"You shouldn't have to."
Harry reached into his bag for his jeans. "Why do you care so much?" he asked, finally voicing the question he'd wanted to ask for quite some time. Ever since she'd first told him to 'be careful' when she'd caught him staring at Ginny.
She eyed him. "Why wouldn't I?"
"But you don't even really know me?"
"Don't I?"
He gulped. "Not really."
"Well, then, we should probably fix that, shouldn't we?"
He sighed as he pulled out his socks and shoes from his bag and sat down on the wooden bench to put them on. "Why do you always answer my questions with questions?"
If Hermione were really to dissect her own speech patterns; she probably could have come up with an actual reason, but now wasn't the time. "Finish getting dressed," she said instead; "I have somewhere to be."
He blinked at her. "Oh. Umm. You can leave if you want to, you know? Thank you for bringing my bag."
She sighed, tapping her foot a bit impatiently. "Look, I'm sorry I'm being such a monster. It's just that Jack isn't going to like that I'm helping you."
He blinked. "Then why are you helping me?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"There you go again, answering my question with a question," he pointed out.
Hermione's gaze met his, and she visibly relaxed. "Besides this whole ugly clothing situation, how was your first practice?"
He managed a smile. "I didn't die, if that's what you're asking."
"I can see that."
Harry tied the shoelace of his left shoe, and then searched his bag for his wand, but it wasn't to be found. He thought he hid his panic well, but Hermione was watching him carefully.
"What's wrong?"
"My wand is missing," he said, as he stood up. "And my broom too. Bloody hell."
Hermione excused his use of language, mainly because she suspected she might have reacted the same way if her wand was missing. "Do you want me to get them for you?" she asked.
"No," he said kindly. "You've done more than enough, really. I don't want to cause more trouble for you and Jack. And plus, I think this is something I need to do myself. It's always been between me and my brother anyway."
She smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry that all of this is happening."
"Me too," he said. "And thank you."
Hermione offered him another small smile, and then she left him to fight his own battles, as she suspected that he could. Really, if Hermione had even an inkling of what was going to happen within the hour; she never would have left him by himself, let alone have left him unarmed.