Those- Who- Lived
Chapter Seven
September first came with as little fanfare as it always had, and Harry was shortly ensconced on the train after another tearful goodbye from Nanna. She still insisted she was going to wither away without her brother with her, and no amount of hugs or reassurances seemed capable of convincing her otherwise. Harry wasn't sure whether to look forward to having her at Hogwarts, or to start worrying about it himself. He might never get a moment's peace! He was starting to wonder if he really should have just let the hat put him in Slytherin and be done with it. But no, that wouldn't have been good either…
A sock smacked into his face, and Harry turned back to find Neville looking at him with a wry smile, offering up a pack of Exploding Snap cards. "Care to stop thinking and get your backside thrashed, Mr. Potter?"
Harry grinned back. "I believe it is you who should be afraid for your rear, Mr. Longbottom."
The compartment door slammed open then, and a red-faced Ron looked inside with a tad fearful face. "Er, guys … my sister doesn't have anywhere to sit. Can we, er, she come and join us? Just for right now, on the train. I looked, all the other compartments are full and, well …" His face was something Harry knew well enough. He didn't want his sister to be sitting alone with strangers. He could appreciate the thought.
"Sure thing, Ron." Harry piped up. "Nice to have you here Ginny. Want to play Exploding Snap?"
Ginny nodded shortly, looking between Harry and Neville with slightly wide eyes. She was remaining very quiet, and only hesitantly joined in. Harry thought that really very odd, as she had never been this quiet before in their presence. However, it was Neville who gently indicated Harry should look over at her where she was sitting next to him. A short, sidelong glance as all he risked, and when he caught Ginny staring at him in turn, she squeaked, and scooted farther away on the bench. A question was half ready before he flushed himself and mentally used several words that would have gotten his and his godfather's mouths washed out.
Ginny apparently was suffering from a crush. Small wonder she was now quiet around him. He just hoped it would go away sometime before he really got tired of it. He much preferred the spitfire Ron had introduced him to a few years ago. He'd really been impressed when she'd gotten Padfoot with a simple prank that only needed the application of oil … to the floor and doorknob of the bathroom.
Ginny squeaked again and the hand blew. Yes, he really hoped she got over this fast.
IIII
Harry was glad he wasn't going to have to suffer through Defence Against the Poncy Git until later that day. He hurried through breakfast, eager to get away from anything that might remind him of the man, and Neville and Ron really didn't argue with him. Hermione, however, was refusing to talk to him. It wasn't his fault though! She'd asked if his parents had ever met Lockhart, and he'd taken one look at the glassy expression she was wearing and pinched her. He got walloped with her book for it, and for some reason, his reasoning of trying to cure her of an unhealthy interest just didn't go over well. He was highly disappointed such an intelligent girl was falling for such a ridiculous fraud, but he supposed she'd figure it out in time. He could only hope.
Herbology was first, and Harry joined the others waiting near the greenhouses. They were heading into class, which was to be in Greenhouse Three, when Harry felt someone grab the back of his robes, halting him. Professor Sprout glanced back out and frowned, but whoever had grabbed him spoke over whatever objections she might have.
"Do you mind if young Harry is a few minutes later, Professor Sprout? I've promised him a word." Harry could practically hear the man wink as Professor Sprout's expression darkened, but apparently Lockhart was blind as well as stupid; he just smiled so wide Harry heard it, and pulled the door shut, saying, "That's the ticket."
Once the door was shut, Harry pulled out of his grip and glared up at him with all the might he could muster. He planned to scathe him up one side and down the other, but Lockhart didn't even appear to be registering his indignant stance at all.
"Harry, Harry, Harry. How wonderful to meet you. I always thought your parents were charming and skilled aurors, and it's such a delight to be able to teach their son. I hope you won't mind me having to go over stuff you likely already know, but I wanted to make sure you knew I'd be willing to give you tutoring. And your friends, too, of course; doubtless Neville will be thinking the same things, struggling to hold back. You two must be top in your class."
Harry dashed his hand between them and growled. "I'm sorry, Professor Lockhart," Harry injected as much venom as he could muster into the title, and apparently that registered, "But I have a class to be in and learning to do, not listening to you plump your own reputation. Good day."
Harry spun around and yanked open the door, slipping inside and slamming it shut. He turned around and quickly apologized to Professor Sprout. "Sorry ma'am. Trying to make sure no vermin get inside." His sickly sweet smile was met with an understanding look.
"No problems, Mr. Potter. The effort is understood. Please join your friends, and we'll begin." Harry gladly did so, and returned his attention to the front of the Greenhouse, were Professor Sprout stood, surrounded by her plants. Harry thought he recognized the plant, but he wasn't quite sure …
"We'll be repotting mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the mandrake?"
Hermione shot her hand straight into the air, and Harry fought down a soft laugh.
"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," Hermione returned. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed into their original state."
"Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor."
Harry smiled fondly, and nudged Neville, who just gave him an exasperated look in return, and then he shot his own hand into the air next to Hermione's. Professor Sprout gave Hermione a fond look, but called on Neville. Harry had missed the question, but the answer made it clear.
"The mandrake's cry is fatal to all those who hear it, or it is when it's mature."
"Another ten points to Gryffindor. Now, these are indeed all young plants, as Neville observed, and so …"
Class was pleasant enough. Hermione had a grand time from what he could tell, working off to the side with a curly haired Hufflepuff and Parvati Patil and someone else he didn't catch. He, Neville and Ron worked with a pleasant girl named Meghan Jones, and had little trouble with their plants. Harry remembered helping Remus with his own plants; he'd had a few Mandrakes one year, and had asked for help.
Transfiguration was next, and then lunch. Harry watched Neville flipping his spare button around, and settled down to eat.
"What do we have next?" Ron groaned.
"Defence Against the Poncy Git." Neville returned. He was flipping the button over his fingers, making Harry desperately want to hex him one, but Hermione interrupted.
"You are all being silly! I can't believe you could be so rude as to call what might be the most important class in school something so – so crass!"
"And is that why you've outlined all his lessons with red ink?" Ron snapped in return. Hermione glared once more, and stalked off. Harry snatched Neville's button out of his hands and threw it at Ron's head.
"Just because she's being crazy at the moment doesn't mean she's irredeemable. We'll just have to prove to her that Lockhart's a pansy." Harry returned. Ron glared for a moment, and then sighed, snagging his roll and standing.
"Fine then. Let's go get a seat so we can protect her from his evil."
Harry and Neville followed, Neville speaking up, "Lockhart's not quite evil though," At Harry and Ron's angry glares he raised his hands defensively, "Hold on, hold on. I'm just saying that Lockhart isn't evil quality. He's just an annoyance, a petty criminal. Not like Mr. Fear-My-Name of the seventies or Grindelwald."
Harry subsided and nodded slowly as they walked towards the classroom. "I suppose you're right. Lockhart's just annoying, not scary."
"But," Ron spluttered, "He's –He's manipulating Hermione! Making her head go weird! I won't stand for it!"
Harry looked at Ron a moment, and then nodded firmly. "You're right, that is intolerable. Where are your brothers, Ron? The twins? We need their help."
Ron looked at Harry several moments longer, his mouth hanging open loosely. Neville himself gave Harry an odd look before glancing around the courtyard. His eyes caught and stopped on the far corner, and Harry looked when he plucked at his sleeve. "Harry," Neville began, "You know how your dad said with Lockhart being so brazen his fans might bleed off the edges?" Harry paled drastically and looked rapidly around the courtyard for the nearest exit. "I can't find one that's not crowded, and that kid over there looks like he's stalking us with a camera."
Harry placed his head in his hands and moaned, and Ron glanced over where Neville was looking with a sickly expression.
"What's the problem?" Ron asked.
Neville gave a strangled smile. "Well, since my mom and dad are well known aurors and Harry's are the same, with all of them having an Order of Merlin of some class, we get a bit of fame from their reputations. With Lockhart here, everyone's on a fame kick and those that have any clout are going to get swamped and I don't want to be swamped with sycophants."
"Sycophants?"
Neville began to answer, but the boy with the camera was closer now, and he fell silent, plucking at Harry's sleeve again. Harry looked up and, knowing the courtyard had yet to clear, gave the boy a sickly smile that seemed to go right over his head.
"All right, Harry? Neville? I'm Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor." He stammered, his camera still brandished, ready to click. "Could I possibly have a picture of you two?" His expression was hopeful. Harry felt ready to kill something, presently leaning toward Neville who had ducked behind Ron as Colin approached.
"Um, I'd rather you not … Why do you want a picture?" Harry hedged.
"So I can prove I met you." Colin wilted slightly at the negative answer. He blossomed again as he kept talking. "I've heard all about you, and Neville from the other students. You're really something. Your parents got all these awards, and you tried to save the school last year and succeeded! And if I develop the pictures right, they move! I never knew I was magical until I got my letter, and my dad's a milkman and he didn't know anything either. I'm going to send him a bunch of pictures so he can see. It'd be really good to have one of you, or Neville," His eyes flickered between them again, and rested on Ron and bugged slightly. "Him too! He's Ron, right? They say he helped you last year, him and a girl …"
Ron turned several shades of red at being noticed, and Harry glanced over with a slight frown, flicking to find Hermione sitting under a tree with her book. He was half considering allowing a group picture of them – they had gotten themselves a place with their antics last year, although he really didn't do much other than cause more problems …
"And could you sign it?"
Harry snapped back to look at him and firmly shook his head. "I'm not Lockhart, Colin, and I won't be signing pictures."
The denial came too late, though, and just to the side Draco Malfoy crowed, "Signed photos, Harry? You're giving out signed photos?"
Harry's dark glare did him little good, and Malfoy continued.
"Well then, everyone cue up to get your own photo. Maybe we should drag a few others in as well?"
"How about you sell your soul, Malfoy if you're so inclined to be a businessman?" Harry snarled. "Oh, wait. You don't have one!"
Malfoy glared back and sneered. "Just because you have aurors for parents won't keep you out of trouble, Potter! One of these days, you're going to get yourself in too deep!"
"As if you aren't already, Malfoy!"
Malfoy's eyes flashed, and he reached for his wand, as another voice cut in, one Harry liked even less than Malfoy. "What's this, what's this? Is someone causing a ruckus?"
Harry tried to slip back into the crowd, but the surrounding students seemed to be on Malfoy's side and clumped together. Anything to make him uncomfortable, Harry supposed. Ron and Neville had been stuck off to the side, and Malfoy looked only too glad for the attention. Harry could see when Lockhart noticed him; his eyes just seemed to light up several times over. Harry wanted to gag.
"Why Harry, are you being out of line? Tut tut, what shall we do? What started this pleasant little scuffle, hm?"
"Potter was giving out signed photos, sir, and took offence to me commenting on it."
Harry had never wanted to wring Malfoy's neck more than he did at that exact moment.
"Harry, Harry, Harry." Harry was beginning to think that line would herald every time Lockhart was about to start going off into his own little world. "Well, I shouldn't have asked. Who was it that was taking the pictures?"
As Colin stepped up, Harry glowered darkly at him, and quickly evaded Lockhart's grasping arm that tried to pin him to his side. The angle Lockhart had come in on was clear, and Harry felt pride be damned, he was getting out of there. He'd never been more glad for his seeker skills than at that moment as he darted out of the crowd and out of the courtyard, knocking aside a Ravenclaw girl and stammering an apology before he was back inside the castle. He knew he was going to absolutely hate Defence this year.
IIII
The bell came too soon for Harry's liking, and he grudgingly made his way up to Defence, slipping into the far back with Neville and Ron, and, surprisingly, Hermione. However, looking to the front of the classroom made Harry's jaw hurt, and he finally just leaned over to Neville and ground out, "Why the Hell did you leave me there?"
Neville sighed. "Every man for himself; All's fair in war."
Harry punched him in the shoulder with a token irritation, and went back to glaring at Lockhart ahead of him, who was beaming over the class as everyone settled. Once it was quiet, he cleared his throat and picked up the nearest book to himself, Travels with Trolls, where his portrait beamed at them in almost the exact same manner as he himself was.
"Me," He said, pointing and winking along with the portrait. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, third class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award. But I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon banshee by smiling at her!"
"Could've fooled me." Ron muttered. Beside him, Lockhart seemed to be waiting for laughter, but only a few titters and smiles came his way.
"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books," Neville muttered something Harry thought would get his mouth washed out, "Well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about – Just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in …" Harry and Neville looked at each other and gagged.
The test papers were handed out, and Lockhart returned to the front of the room, and said, "You have thirty minutes. Start – now."
Harry gagged as he looked at the questions, and Neville beside him moaned in time with Ron. This was the stupidest quiz he'd seen since Nanna had tried to quiz him on her birthday gift when she was five. A glance down the list made him grin wolfishly. Nanna's quiz had been a little better: She'd asked some questions not related to herself.
Harry scribbled down several nonsense answers, and tossed the paper in with the rest of them. Neville was pantomiming some mockery or other, and Harry just sighed sadly.
"And I had so looked forward to this class. Why am I cursed with horrendous teachers? Why can't my mom and dad get the job rather than all these bozos?"
Neville thumped his head on the desk sadly. "No clue. I'm wondering the same about my parents. Hell, Arthur Weasley would do better than Lockhart. No offence, Ron."
Ron shook his head, "No problem. It's true."
"There wasn't a single question on there that was anything really … real in regards to defence." Harry whined. Hermione scowled at the end of their desks, and gave Lockhart a look Harry wouldn't have wanted directed at himself. She looked ready to pick him to pieces. It was kind of frightening …
Lockhart began dissembling about the quiz once more, and Harry put his head down hard on the desk. He despaired of anything interesting happening in this class.
That was about two minutes before Lockhart had the smart idea to release the pixies. However, Harry wasn't his father's son for nothing. As soon as Lockhart had pulled out the cage, Harry had nervously organized his stuff for a quick retreat. Neville took one look at his actions and copied him, encouraging Ron to do the same. The cage was opened, and Harry swore before quickly ducking his books under the desk and slipping them into his bag.
"What kind of moron is he?" He growled, clutching his bag close so as to not have it ripped away. When the pixies did try and come his direction, Harry quickly froze them, much as Neville did from his place at Harry's back, his own bag clutched tight. Ron was defending Hermione and her books, and, after Lockhart made his astonishing blunder and lost his wand, Harry had had it.
"Neville, he's a moron. Five seconds to the door? Poke Ron."
Neville nodded shortly, and elbowed Ron, passing on the idea. Ron nodded enthusiastically, and grabbed his own bag, and several of Hermione's loose books, while Hermione grabbed the rest of her own with a militant expression towards the destructive creatures. When Neville poked Harry in return, Harry quickly darted past the other students to the door, Neville and the rest following quickly. Naturally, the rest of the class noticed and thought it was the greatest idea of the month. Harry and his friends were out in the corridor first, and the bell rang shortly thereafter. Harry grinned at the successful escape, but Hermione quickly began analyzing the lesson.
"I'm sure it was some hands-on demonstration he had going, releasing those pixies."
"Hermione," Ron whined, "Lockhart didn't have the faintest clue what he was doing!"
"But all of his books …"
"Are likely rubbish." Harry snapped. "How about this? Dark Arts are usually spells from behind and poisons in food, right?" Hermione nodded. "Well then. Lets see how he fares when I ask the twins to 'test his reflexes'. Potions in his drinks, harmless of course, and spells on his chairs and out of nowhere. For, say, a month." Hermione looked caught between the rule breaking, and the desire to validate her opinion. "My parents did the same. He got caught in their spells every single time. He's not going to fare any better against Fred and George, I bet."
Hermione gave him a superior expression. "You have a deal. If he can't stop those two, then he's worthless. However, I believe you're only going to get Fred and George an undue punishment."
Harry laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. "I think the twins will just jump on the excuse, personally. They'd get in trouble anyways."
Hermione deflated some, and smiled weakly.
Harry grinned. Two points to him.
IIII
The twins were more than happy to oblige Harry, and Harry made a point to write home that evening to tell his father to send a note from 'Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs' to the Weasley tricksters, along with whatever joke ideas they had in mind. Harry spared a piteous thought for Lockhart for half a moment before he went back to malicious glee at what sort of havoc would soon befall the school. However, in the meantime, the twins had to prepare and there were still classes to attend. Saturday, however, proved woeful. Harry had never liked waking before the sun, and although he could admire Oliver's enthusiasm, he would only do so once he was properly awake, rather than simply functioning. Getting to the pitch, however, proved difficult as Wood devolved into a rant. Only once he got into the air did Harry wake up properly, and he smiled until they glanced down and found a gathering of Slytherins beneath them. Wood was livid.
"How dare you! I booked the pitch today! I booked it! So clear off!"
Flint leered at Wood. "There's plenty of room, I'm sure. Besides, we've got special permission from Professor Snape to use the pitch, owing to us needing to train our new seeker." The team parted, and Draco Malfoy sneered out at Harry from between them. Off to the side, Harry distinctly heard someone snort.
"I still can't believe you'd taken bribes over talent, Flint."
All eyes snapped to the side, finding a rangy, dark boy and the slim form of Alan Prince reclined against the nearest stand. It was the dark boy who had spoken. Harry thought it was Blaise Zabini. Draco bristled, as did Flint. However, as Zabini said this, Harry noticed that the brooms held by the Slytherin team were all uniform, and very clean. Behind him, where Harry knew Neville and the others had been, he heard a disdainful snort, tinged with incredulity. Harry felt he'd been listening to Neville too long to be able to hear that, but it was Ron who spoke up.
"What's going on here?"
Draco sneered, his face turning ugly. "Just taking a look at the niceties enjoyed by families of merit, Weasley. Nothing special."
"Families of merit?" Prince drawled. "Oh, so that's what they're calling it now. Funny, I'd thought merit had something to do with skill, or acclaim. Not pure cash. I must be behind on the times." The curious tone he used didn't sound outright insulting, but Malfoy coloured anyways, turning a dark look Prince's way. Clearly, the hatred between them was mutual. It almost seemed as though Prince had bought more of Malfoy's hatred that he even spared Harry himself. Flint was glaring between the two in annoyance, and Wood as well as losing patience. Hermione finally broke in.
"Look, what's the whole issue here anyways? I thought Wood had the pitch this morning."
"No one asked your opinion, mudblood." Draco snapped.
Harry was surprised at the reaction that occurred. He'd thought he was the closest to Malfoy, but clearly he was wrong. Because, somehow, it wasn't any of the Gryffindors who got their reaction in first, although Flint's move to protect Malfoy may have had something to do with it. Through the entire uproar that resulted from Malfoy using that horrible word, Harry saw that the one spell that made it through came at Malfoy from behind, from over where Prince was standing by the stand. Once the hubbub cleared down, as the Gryffindors noticed Malfoy's cursed state, it became clearer what had happened. Malfoy was now wrapped tightly in bandages from his shoulders to his hips, firmly pinning his arms to his sides. Bandages that refused to be cut, nor would they allow themselves to be spelled off. Flint was furious.
"Who did this? Which of you got through? You're going to be in so much trouble once this comes out. Hexing my seeker, would you believe it." Flint grumbled as he led Malfoy away. However, it was Prince who spoke after him.
"Well, if you want a seeker less likely to be hexed, I'm still up for the position. Maybe I won't be giving you nice brooms, but I can sure keep my mouth shut when it would be far more healthy to do so." Flint shot him a dark look, but Prince merely made a face and spoke to no one in particular. "Honestly. Inflammatory words in front of muggle-lovers. What kind of idiot is he?"
"Alan, you know already." Zabini placed his hand on Prince's shoulder and gave him a fake conciliatory look. "It's the bad genes. Too many cousins, too shallow a gene pool."
Prince snorted. "Shallow, my ass. It's a bloody puddle."
Harry watched Prince curiously, and then noticed Wood's angry expression as he looked at the two Slytherins. Deciding to try and keep hostility down and get answers, Harry turned to them and shot, "Prince, why did you hex Malfoy?" Behind him, the entire team fell silent. Prince gave him a confused look. Had Harry not clearly seen his expression when the hex had come from his direction, Harry would have thought himself mistaken. But Prince had had a horribly ugly look on his face as Malfoy called Hermione a mudblood, and Harry had no doubt he was the source of that particular hex.
"I didn't do anything, Potter. You think I'm crazy enough to hex someone behind Flint's back? I'm not a Gryffindor." The emphasis on the word made the rest of the team behind Harry stiffen, and Harry growled at Prince in irritation.
"I'll bet you're just jealous." Ron spat. "Didn't get on the team, did you? Malfoy beat you out?"
Prince snorted. "Hardly. There were no tryouts. Draco's father greased a few palms and the little albino got right on the team. Had they allowed tryouts, Draco would've ended up flat on his face." Prince gave Harry a sidelong glance. "It's not like he'll even be a challenge for little Potter here. I'd bet even Granger could beat Malfoy on a broom."
"Big words for a little kid." Wood snapped. "But we're still on the pitch, and I don't need you two hanging around."
Again, Prince gave them a superior look that seemed part-and-parcel with any Slytherin. "You'll just be catching flack for being out here once Pomfrey cleans Draco up. How about a little interhouse deal?" Prince added. Harry looked confused, and Wood gave Prince a cautious look. "Snitch chasing. Potter versus I." Prince gave Harry a sidelong glance. "I want to see who's faster, and then Flint can hardly complain the outcome."
"And you get to show up Malfoy." Harry added. "How do I even know this is going to be valid?" However, Wood was shaking his head.
"It's valid, Harry. Two kids of each house can easily make such a deal, and since you're in the same year, it'll hold. I think. Besides ..."
"It will." Prince returned, looking supremely unconcerned. "I've got Snape's word on it."
"And of course, you have your head of house's ear." Neville drawled. Somehow, he managed to almost make his voice sound nearly as unconcerned as Prince's. Prince gave him a wolfish grin in return.
"Good grades and work ethic do manage to accomplish something, Longbottom. I'm sure pretty Granger could have Flitwick wrapped around her pinkie finger if she gave it any effort."
Finally, Wood threw his hands in the air and snarled, "Why not. It'll give Potter practice at least and it's not like you're on the team. Have at it. You want me to release the snitch on your word?"
"Certainly, Wood. Thank you." Prince returned. He quickly turned out his pockets and unshrunk his broom when he found it. Harry gave the ragged broom a sceptical glance. The handle was clean, but nicked and scratched enough to make him wince. The twigs were clean and streamlined, but were coarse and of many colours. And normally brooms did not like shrinking. Prince noticed the attention and shrugged, barely concealing a gleeful look.
"It's a custom thing, from my uncle. You ready?" However, as he said so, Alan pulled a small black band from his pocket as well, and Harry stared as he affixed it over his right eye, effectively blocking his sight. Outraged, Harry slapped his shoulder, earning a fierce glare.
"Why in the bloody blue blazes are you doing that? It want it fair, Prince! You're not giving yourself a handicap."
Harry got such an innocent look in return he almost missed the flicker of other emotion hidden beneath. He maintained his fierce look though. He wanted a challenge, not some idle disrespect Prince seemed insistent on providing.
"I'm not handicapping myself." Prince insisted. "Tis only fair."
Harry didn't let his glare up the slightest. Instead, he held out his hand firmly and snapped, "Being half-blind if not fair. If you're wearing that, then I get one too. We're doing this on fair ground, no less."
He actually accomplished something he thought nigh impossible. Prince looked stunned. "Wait, what?"
"You're not handicapping yourself! Either take the bloody thing off, or I wear one as well!" The others on the quidditch team were watching them in shock, but Harry maintained his stance staunchly, defending his right to a challenge. Finally, Prince fished another black cloth out of his pocket after some searching and handing it over with a confused expression, and a murmur Harry hoped he'd misheard. It had sounded dreadfully like, 'Maybe you belong in Gryffindor after all.' With the patch in place, Harry gave Wood a thumbs up.
Still flustered from the argument between the two boys, Wood took a moment to call out, "Three, two, one – Go!" He released the snitch, and both fliers took off, Harry pulling ahead quickly, watching the snitch intently with the half-sight he had. With his depth perception put off, however, he was having slight difficulty following the motion of the snitch, and he nearly lost it as it darted across to his new blind side. Harry nearly crashed into Prince as the other student mis-corrected his own drift to follow. Harry had never been so fond of his natural skill on a broom as right then. He was certain he could fly blind if he didn't have to worry about possible obstacles. However, he had lost the snitch, but apparently Prince had not, and he was pelting across the pitch. Harry took off after him, but was surprised to find himself making no headway on the other boy's pace. Their brooms were completely matched for speed at this rate, and if he wasn't mistaken, Prince was gaining speed slowly and steadily as well. Harry caught up due to another rapid change in direction from the snitch, bringing it back his way, and up. Harry whipped after it, and then checked on Prince for a moment, one that turned into two as he stared.
Prince was still stopping; apparently his custom broom lacked the manoeuvrability of Harry's Nimbus, and he took time to turn. This made Harry wonder about his rather strange decision of a handicap for this match, and then his attention returned to find the snitch out of his immediate sight. Frantically, Harry scanned the pitch, and found the snitch darting off towards the stands to his far left, opposite the spectators on the ground, and he whipped after it, Prince copying him below. Due to differing angles, Harry maintained a lead on Prince, even as he slowly accelerated to match Harry's pace, and suddenly they were neck-to-neck in the chase towards the snitch, with Prince inching inexorably forward. However, the snitch was only a hand span away, and Harry inched forward and lashed out, snatching it from the air and braking sharply, letting Alan's lesser brakes pull him down several feet away. His expression when he looked over at Harry was unreadable, but Harry knew his own was split in a grand smile. He whipped off the patch and held it out to Prince in turn.
"That was wonderful, Prince! Great chase!"
Prince gave him a wry smile. "It was. Gotta tell my uncle this is a substandard broom. I'm not about to have something second best. He'll have a fit, I'm sure." He accepted the patch back, and gave Harry's hand a firm shake. "Thanks for the game." Prince left first, floating back to the gathered Gryffindors, and, beyond them, the doors inside. Harry found more people in the crowd then there had been before, and he smiled as he saw Snape wearing a sour expression, standing behind the Gryffindors. He didn't even make it out of the air, though, as Fred and George mounted and flew up to him with wide smiles.
"You got it, Potter-kid!"
"Snape gave up the pitch to us, so we've got more game to play."
"Malfoy's still stuck in bandages too."
"Looks like whoever hexed him knew what they were doing."
"So we get to play on, and listen to Wood rant. Hope you didn't want lunch."
Harry grimaced. Quidditch was all well and good, but Wood was insane. He really was going to be working clean through lunch, even as Neville and the others made their way to the stands. Really. He liked lunch.
A/N: Well, the seventh book came out, and I will continue this story with few corrections, none of which affect for the posted chapters. I appreciate you reading this, and please review. It makes me happy. There will be a chapter posted next week to make up for a three week vacation I'll be taking during which I will most likely not be able to access my files. Trust, however, that I will still be posting every two weeks: I'm finished up to twenty-one chapters, of which more than half are currently being betaed and I should have them back before I need them. The pace of posting ensures that I don't feel pressed to write fast and substandard. Thank you for following my story, and a hug to everyone who has reviewed.
F & N