The Prince-Who-Lived
Chapter Twenty-two
Harry got a letter back in two days later, with Sirius exclaiming excitedly about his discovery and their attempts. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, but Harry was still resenting Neville and Neville was not unaware of the hostility from Harry in turn, so they were both avoiding each other and anyone else. Alan was occupied talking with Blaise and nipping into the small apothecary. Finally, frustrated and feeling rather alone, Harry stuffed the already wrinkled parchment letter into his pocket and stalked up to the school.
The atmosphere of the empty school was surprisingly welcoming, and Harry felt a smile twist its way onto his face despite his dark mood. Hogwarts was as welcoming as his own home, even without the bustle and chatter of other students surrounding him.
The walk up to Gryffindor tower was as familiar as the way to his room back home, and he walked it without really seeing where he was going or what was there. Once he was up there, however, he spoke the password and stopped when the door opened. McGonagall was standing in the common room keeping an eye on many nervous-looking first and second years, and a smattering of older students, several of whom looked nervous or disgruntled. Harry stepped in, and Lee Jordan, the Weasley twins' friend, waved him over.
"Hey Harry, what brought you back early?" Harry gave him a silent look and raised one eyebrow. Lee looked disappointed, but waved it off and gave a wry smile. "Moody's decided to do a dorm search, paranoid old auror. He'll be having a few words with some students as they come back. He's searching up through the dorms, I think he's already been through yours. He comes down to tell McGonagall if he's got a question or something. You alright there?"
Harry wasn't alright, but he nodded quietly anyways and carefully blanked his face. There were several things in his stuff he didn't want found and while he doubted Moody would invade a journal or anything, he would certainly look at several of Harry's items with suspicion. Quite a few were of questionable legality for someone underage, and the rest … simply weren't on the right side of things. Most he had gotten from his father and were against ministry approval, but a few he'd gotten for himself recently, and a few were gifts from Alan and those were not legal. Well, at least they weren't in Britain. Most were in America, one of the reasons he'd felt safe having them; the ability to claim ignorance. He just hoped Moody would question him about them in private …
He was waiting long enough that he joined a game of Exploding Snap in the common room, with several others who spent just as much time staring at the stairs as he did. Finally, Moody clumped back down and turned to McGonagall, his magical eye scanning the room.
"All clear, Minerva. I'll need to speak with several students as they get back. Potter!" Harry jumped to hear his name growled. "Come with me."
Harry stood and left in Moody's wake, tailing him to a nearby deserted classroom. McGonagall followed as well, and Moody frowned, and she retreated with a bored look before he warded the room. Apparently she wasn't that concerned about James Potter's son, nor surprised that he had contraband.Once in and warded, Moody glanced around, and nodded.
"Good of you to be there, Potter. You had a few things I wanted to see if your father had given you or not. Might as well start; you'd probably make the biggest fuss anyways."
Harry blinked, but kept his face carefully blank, fidgeting only slightly in place. Moody summoned a desk over and put several books on it, along with his invisibility cloak, and a small necklace. Lastly, he held up a pale wand only a few shades darker than his holly wand. Harry blushed slightly, and turned aside.
"A second wand." Moody growled.
"It was a bit of an accident, …" Harry allowed, but he ducked his head as Moody glared. "It was my father. He let me keep it."
Moody chuckled lowly and gently laid the wand next to the rest of the items. "You also have this." Moody fingered the necklace, examining it with his fake eye as he pinned Harry with his real one. "I'd like to make sure you know what all you have. This tournament is rubbing me wrong, boy. And while I doubt you've got much to do with it, I'm an auror. And as such … I'd like to know where you got each of these."
Harry swallowed. Moody might let him keep them if he played this right. "Two of the books are from my parents, and the other two … I ordered them from a catalogue sitting around the library that I found." A catalogue Alan had sent him over the summer to mark what he wanted, and then he'd bought him two of the books he'd indicated. Harry had sent him a calibre in return; one like the necklace Moody still held that confused the ministry Trace on underage wizards, blocking small, simple spells. That had been a hurdle to find. And how he'd get it back from Moody …
"You aware these books are illegal over here?" Moody tapped the two American books and Harry rapidly shook his head. Moody grunted, looked over the items and smiled crookedly. "Well, you didn't do anything to the tournament with any of this, Potter." Moody picked it up, and tapped the necklace Harry had bought. It looked something like the necklace his parents had bought for him, to warn them if he was in danger, a small old-fashioned looking key but the calibre was smaller, and rougher. He then looked Harry over and then handed it back to him. "I must have been mistaken about this. I thought you kept your parents' necklace on all the time."
Moody's expression belied the phrase, but Harry didn't even consider bringing it up. He just smiled, thanked heaven he'd tucked that necklace under his shirt, and pulled the calibre on. Moody turned away to step out, and Harry grabbed his books, second wand, and his cloak, and quickly disillusioning the spines of the books. Moody paused just outside the door, and looked at him.
"Longbottom has much the same things in his trunk. You better not be caught with those anytime in the rest of the year."
Harry nodded quickly and returned to the dorms, accepting the warning easily. That was not something he really wanted to run into anytime soon, and he got through the common room with a strained smile and a quick step. He was additionally grateful that Alan had had the animagus book. He didn't want Moody to know about that as well.
The thought made him wonder if Moody had ever attempted to become an animagus, but he let it go after a moment and moved his books back into his trunk, removing the calibre and putting it in the small pocket in the bottom corner with Alan's letters, where he should have put it to begin with. He didn't think Moody had found that pocket; there was no magic hiding it and nothing magical inside. Harry stood and pulled his parent's necklace from under his shirt and letting it dangle like the calibre had. Looking down at the slightly helter-skelter level to his clothes Harry frowned, and shook his head, setting to reorganizing it. He supposed Moody's search was valid, and, as Alan's friend, he could appreciate the thought, but he greatly doubted Moody had found anything worth the search, and had done nothing more than make the children wary. Where the value in the effort was, Harry didn't know. He wasn't so sure he cared, either. Dumbledore was just being placating with this, he was sure of it.
The thought put a frown on his face. Irritably, Harry pulled one of the books he'd ordered from America out and settled back into his bed to read, eyeing the diagrams with care. It was a karate book, with moving illustrations and small additional considerations of fighting in a robe (inadvisable; quick transfiguration was recommended) to manoeuvring on a broom and where the put your wand so as not to lose or break it. Not the most useful thing he'd ever indulged in, but satisfying in a strange way. It also passed the time until he got to listen to Ron and Neville come in and complain about the messes in their trunks.
IIII
By the time the weekend came around, it appeared that Neville had forgotten to be annoyed with Harry, and they were talking again. Their camaraderie, however, had no effect on the more recent news.
During dinnertime, just adjacent to their conversation, Lavender Brown gasped.
"Oh, no way! Parvati, look at this! You have to read this!"
Harry and his friends all stared at her until they saw the magazine was Witch Weekly. Hermione snorted.
"For crying out loud, she really could keep it down. Honestly, fashion tips are not that important."
Harry laughed quietly, and returned to eating, but eating was rather suddenly postponed when Melanie came up and waved a folded magazine between them and then threw it at Neville. Neville caught it with a frown.
"Melanie, we're eating …" He began.
Melanie looked distraught. "Neville, read that article! I can't believe – I hope that woman rots somewhere dark and dank! She can't print stuff like that, can she?"
"Melanie." Harry snapped. "What is it?"
"Rita Skeeter wrote an article about Prince, saying his mother was a – a – scarlet woman." Melanie whispered the taboo label, and then shifted, awkward. "Just … can you get the magazine back to me afterwards? Romilda is going to want it back."
Harry wasn't listening anymore. He'd pulled the magazine from Neville the moment Melanie said it was about Alan, and held it so that he and Neville could both read it across the table. He could tell people were reading it everywhere; the noise in the Hall had risen to a dull roar, but his attention was fixed on the printed vitriol before him.
THE PRINCE OF KNOCKTURN ALLEY
By Rita Skeeter
Finding our established school represented by the dark horse Alan Prince of Slytherin, this reporter sought to shed some light on his shadowed origins. The search brought me to the dark corners of the dubious Knockturn Alley, and the small room of an infamous young squib, Amber Callough. Amber Callough was one of the last of an old and failing pureblood line, with a single sister now living in America, married into the most ignominious Alfaerus line, currently under suspicion for their copious use of force at the recent Quidditch World Cup. However, Amber herself was living in Knockturn Alley by the most dubious of trades: selling herself as a petty prostitute. Apparently, however petty though she was, she was most popular with clients such as Horace Slughorn, Augustus Rookwood, and, more recently, the Hogwarts current Potions master, Severus Snape. Other characters were seen amidst and around her rooms, but time and discretion keep most of the clientele secret still. It is solid fact that she was popular, and she was most certainly not unable to keep herself in more comfort than she indulged in. Purchases are remembered for fine elf-made wine, and potions ingredients possibly for her many lovers.
In the light of Amber's many consorts, Alan's true parentage would be most dubious, but with his recent growth the suspicion falls mostly onto Severus Snape, with their most stunning similarities. Alan is a prodigious student in Potions, and, as seen in the picture captured above, possesses many of Snape's most distinguished characteristics. With grace likely drawn from his mother, Alan Prince would certainly fall into an eligible list for Witch Weekly, despite his having taken the dubious 'Loony' Luna Lovegood to the Yule Ball.
Other concerns in the boy's life are where he grew up for many years, and who raised him. Suspicion lays with an American childhood, most likely in the case of his aunt's family, the aforementioned Alfaerus, prominent purebloods in America. Such speculation is currently next on my list, but most should be watchful that the boy doesn't turn back to his roots.
Above the article, Harry stared at the picture caught of Alan. It clearly wasn't posed – probably one of Creevey's candid shots, sold unexpectedly. However, the Alan in the picture, while unaware at the time of the photo, was now shooting suspicious glances out of the frame from his profile, and awkwardly ducking his head as though he wished he possessed more hair with which to hide his face. Harry, however, was more focused on his indignation at the absolute callousness of Rita's article about Amber. Did she think she could delve into the past with such impunity? If Harry had been less incensed at her callous treatment of Alan's parentage, he'd be honestly concerned for the woman. The 'ignominious Alfaerus' would not take this lying down.
Harry relinquished the article to Neville and Hermione on the other side of the table, and glanced across the hall. He was unsurprised to find neither Alan nor most of his coterie, and, even less surprised to see Draco sulking amidst his own. However, Harry strongly suspected that this was only the beginning of the damage this article would do.
IIII
The next morning, Harry went hesitantly down to breakfast, and choked when he chanced a look at the Slytherin hourglass. It was completely empty. It had been riding low ever since Alan had been chosen as the school champion, but Harry had never seen any of the hourglasses absolutely empty this late in the year. A few others were exclaiming at it, and Neville came up beside him and winced.
"Ouch. Snape mustn't be happy."
Harry shook his head carefully, and led the way into the Great Hall. Just inside, however, he paused as he saw Alan, seated in his usual place, with a buffer of his coterie on either side and across from him. They usually were not seated so completely together; normally only Lucille Pupp and Blaise beside him at meals, but now he was surrounded by them on all sides. Alan looked pale, and tense, but that was only visible due to long association with him; his face expressed a deep calm that was completely out of place. There was also something seeming to be missing, but he didn't quite catch it until Draco came strutting into the room. He passed behind Alan and his group; Alan's coterie watched him, several fingering their wands as they rested in their hands. Alan did nothing but focus on eating, and Harry noted that his wand was not in his hands at all. It was surprising, as Alan was very cautious about his own defence. He didn't usually give such trust to his coterie; why he was doing so now escaped Harry completely.
He apparently paused too long in looking, as Neville quickly bumped his shoulder and moved past him towards the Gryffindor table. Harry followed reluctantly, still watching over at Alan where he was stubbornly eating his meal without paying attention to the low conversations going on all around him. The calm of the morning, however, shattered shortly as an owl came in with a burning red letter, landing before Professor Snape. Harry watched it with trepidation, and Severus' look made the smouldering look rather fitting.
The envelope leapt into the air, screaming in a woman's shrill voice.
"You sordid wretch! What a whoremonger, to be teaching our children! Can't even be bothered to keep an eye on your own, letting him grow up with foreigners with no manners, where he lies and cheats his way through life! What miserable, skulking foul talents you pass on, from father to son! Azkaban is too good for you, but I suppose it'll hold fine until you both find your way there! Death Eater scum!"
Ash fell into Severus' plate, but he calmly banished it without his face betraying a thought beyond his disgust. Alan hadn't even twitched at his seat, continuing eating without emotion. An exceptionally brave student called anonymously above the murmur,
"Callous, unfeeling Slytherins!"
Startlingly, Dumbledore answered, "Detention, Mr. Davies. You may join the Slytherins with Filch this evening."
There was a well of silence, and then conversation began slowly once more. Harry felt absent, and hollow, unsure of where to take his feelings now that such a gap had opened. This article was going to make everything absolutely miserable.
Fortunately, the first class of the day was Herbology. Most of the Hufflepuffs were as upset with the utterly sordid nature of the article that the discussion was at a minimum around the supremely pleasant Hufflepuff head of house. Unfortunately, the next class of the day was Care of Magical Creatures, with the Slytherins. Harry was not looking forward to seeing Alan and Draco in close quarters. Hopefully they'd have gotten their animosity worked out the class before …
Viewing the scene as Harry came upon the gathered students, Harry felt little hope of it. Blaise, as well as Theodore Nott who normally remained neutral in Slytherin, were both keeping their eyes on Draco, their backs to Alan who was calmly facing front, his wand again nowhere in sight. Hagrid was eyeing them in concern, as Draco kept his eyes on Alan's two defenders, apparently oblivious to the hostile glances coming his way from the girls Daphne and Tracey behind him. Seeing the Gryffindors approaching, Draco smiled maliciously, waiting until they could hear.
"My word, Alan, are you so concerned with your looks you refuse to engage anyone in a fight anymore? Looking to take after your mother's line of work?" Behind Draco, Crabbe and Goyle laughed thickly. "I suppose your looks are a little on the fringe of being unacceptable -"
"Enough!" Hagrid growled. "I don't want to hear another word. You'll leave him alone, if I have ter separate you on purpose."
Harry and the Gryffindors nervously took their positions beside the Slytherins, and, after they'd settled, Harry was surprised to see Alan move and walk in front of them, to stand beside Hermione, as far from the Slytherins as he could, blankly watching Hagrid with deliberate focus. Blaise followed him quickly, along with Daphne. Theodore looked between Draco and Alan, his face tight, and remained where he was, relaxing slightly, once more on the fringe of the 'acceptable' Slytherins, Tracey Davis beside him. Hagrid watched it for a moment, and shrugged, turning back to the crates at his feet, which were full of nifflers.
The lesson turned out to be of a fortunate set up, as Alan purposefully remained sequestered with the Gryffindors, Blaise and Daphne buffering him on either side. A short look from Harry put Dean, Seamus, and the Gryffindor girls aside from Hermione and Sophie Roper opposite them, placing Gryffindors between the three Slytherins and the rest of their housemates. Harry wasn't too sure why none of the Gryffindors were complaining, but he was grateful for it. There was no excuse for what Rita had written, and he wasn't going to let Draco get his way.
Once the nifflers had dug up all the coins, however, and Ron had gotten his chocolate, Alan could no longer hide among the Gryffindors and rejoined the Slytherins. Harry, Ron, and Hermione paused at the door, mostly at Harry's initiative and watched them walk up. Alan had come to the bottom of the stairs, Draco coming up behind him when Draco glanced at Hermione and called once more,
"Alan, were you looking for customers among the Gryffindors? I thought they were all poor, although Hermione might have money to spare, as a mudblood. You can never tell with them, no galleons or –"
Draco never finished. Alan seemed to stiffen, and then the ugly look Harry had been expecting all day tore across his features, and he darted from his group to deck Malfoy hard across the face. Draco staggered, and Alan paused, stepping back as he struggled to regain his composure. Draco straightened slowly, watching as Alan turned to walk away, and he spat blood at Alan, catching his trousers. Alan turned slowly to regard him, a dangerous look on his face. Draco faked an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have implied you'd lower yourself to fuck mudbloods; you were probably more interested in the Potter wealth, weren't you?"
Harry felt that was a stupid mistake; he mustn't have been paying enough attention to remember that Harry was standing at the top of the stairs. Then again, Alan didn't give Harry much leeway; he stepped forward, and kicked Draco in the face, his face strangely calm in a way it shouldn't have been, not with the anger that had been there before. Landing and balancing himself as Draco sprawled across the grounds, his goons backed off by Alan's coterie where even Theodore lent a hand, Alan regarded him carefully.
"Draco, you were the whole fucking reason I surrendered my wand to my dad. I don't like using brute force, but Merlin, Mary, and Mordred, you really drive a man to drink if you can't shut up for even five minutes. I'll make this short: I am no whore; just because that's all you can think of as a profession doesn't mean you need to shift it off on me. Stop tossing pointless, repetitive insults, and I won't be forced to hurt you again." Alan turned his head slightly, and heat re-entered his gaze. "So back the Hell off."
Draco watched sullenly as Alan finished, and Alan, satisfied, turned and entered the Hall with a faint nod to McGonagall as she watched him walk by. She had apparently seen everything, and felt no need to speak up, simply eyeing the Slytherins with contempt. Alan's coterie, plus the apparently new addition of Theodore Nott, followed. Pansy simpered and helped Draco stand, bringing him into the doorway. Harry stopped her where she was. Draco looked at him with disgust, an expression that Harry's calm words quickly changed.
"Insinuating that I both buy whores and fuck men in one fell swoop, Draco … that's an offence I could call you out on." Draco paled. "Stop bringing me and my friends into your stupid rivalries, Draco. Either them or me. I think you've got your hands full fielding Prince's hostility, don't you think? Or is that what Pansy's for? Thinking?" Harry gave him a contemplative look, before shaking his head in a dismissal. "Either way, practice it elsewhere." Harry gave him a falsely warm smile, and then turned and smiled honestly back at Neville where he stood waiting for them just farther inside. Harry walked past him into the Great Hall, and he fell into step beside him with a wry smile.
Neville shook his head solemnly. "I never thought I'd lose out on that much drama not taking Care of Magical Creatures, but, by Merlin, just about everything happens there, doesn't it?"
Harry shook his head. "You have no idea …"
IIII
Four days later, things had died down to the point that Harry found himself joined at the table in the back corner of the library with a tired looking Alan. Harry frowned; Alan was looking tired far too often this year. Last year, it had mostly been Harry getting tired, with his proclivity for engaging in several activities at once and dealing with a temperamental Hermione with her unwise decision to take too many classes. Of course, picking occasional public fights with Alan hadn't helped. Now, due to events beyond Alan's control, he was getting worn down. A quiet acknowledgement was all Harry allowed, determined not to press him. Alan, however, didn't need to be pressed.
"This is ridiculous." He said quietly. Harry closed his book and looked over at him. Alan was looking at him, tight lipped. "All from such a stupid article. God, I hope Geoffrey's idea works; that bitch deserves it for fucking this up."
"Geoffrey's pissed at Rita?"
"Merlin, Mary, and Morgan, Harry, all of Salem is pissed at her over that. Even Hogwarts has some moral indignation; else I'd have had far more trouble. So far it's only been a few Gryffs, some Ravenclaws, and Slytherin. And a Hufflepuff or two. But shit, man."
Harry frowned. "The Gryffindors seemed solid enough during Care of Magical Creatures."
Alan gave Harry a small, wry smile. "You didn't see your face then, Potter." He drawled. "Merlin's drawers, you had Draco cowed with that look of righteous fury. I'm pretty sure most of them took it as moral offence, rather than fury for my sake. I …" Alan's face changed to an incredulous look. "I suppose I should thank you for being a buffer, Monday."
Harry frowned. "I could do no less."
Alan snorted. "Gryffindor."
Shaking his head, Harry dismissed it with a rude gesture, and then puzzled out a question he'd harboured for a time. "McGonagall saw you deck Malfoy and said nothing. Why?"
Harry got another look from Alan that showed his cynical amusement at the situation he was in once more. "McGonagall said nothing because it was all just tit for tat. Draco insulted me; I retaliated. Since Slytherin has no points left to take, and won't have any for the next month, that's moot and Draco's already got detention, alternating teachers, for the rest of the year. You weren't there; there was half a firefight in the dungeons the evening the article came out, between Draco and I." Alan smiled wryly. "The lack of points is half my fault. I think there's nothing else to do to him. Snape has threatened to start him in on detention for next year, and possible send a scathing letter home. He doesn't want to do that last though." Alan sighed. "I suppose even that would be a little too cruel."
Harry couldn't help but nod, his mouth dry. He'd overheard Draco receive a dressing down from his father second year, after he'd just lost a Quidditch match to Gryffindor; during which Lucius had struck Draco. Harry didn't want to consider the beatings he was likely subjected to when he did misbehave. Chances are, he'd be in enough trouble as it was. Harry forcibly shook his head, and regarded Alan again.
"You said you'd given up your wand Monday …"
"I had, with only a minimal prompt from Severus." Alan nodded. "You don't want to know what sort of curses that prevented. All the times I wanted to do something horrible to Draco, I couldn't, and I was glad of it. Beating him up only means he had to see Madam Pomfrey at the end of each day. Rather than waiting seven hours or so for the curse to wear off." Alan gave Harry a dark look he hoped he never had to face for real. "I know a few more curses than you want to experience."
Harry set aside his book, and leaned forward with an inquisitive expression. Alan saw it, and smirked. Harry returned the expression almost perfectly, and Alan laughed. "Fine, I'll tell you about them. Seriously …"
"Nah, Sirius is at the Ministry right now, Prince."
Alan groaned and threw a wadded paper at him for the bad joke. Harry grinned unrepentantly.
IIII
Things died down slowly, with Draco often showing up at dinner with bruises and limping. Harry watched it with a feeling of immense satisfaction. Saturday, however, Alan showed up in the morning with a skip in his step, and a smile on his face. Harry couldn't imagine why, but he was happy to see it. Unfortunately for him, Neville noticed immediately and simply laughed quietly before sitting down beside him. The others were curious as well, but Harry finally shrugged it off and continued as is. Immediately thereafter, he left and smiled at Neville, egging him into a pick-up game of Quidditch. They made their way out onto the pitch, but were interrupted several minutes later, when Harry felt something coming up behind him as he scouted for the snitch they'd released. He fell immediately into a roll, and someone burst past him, ruffling his hair. Harry growled,
"Watch where you're going! Can't you see we're playing here? You want on the pitch, you ask!"
Above him, the broom halted, and Harry found himself facing a wickedly smirking Alan.
"But Potter, I want a pick-up game myself. I know you don't have a full team, so I only brought equal. Think your associates can match mine?"
Harry looked down, and found that Alan had brought his coterie with him; however, only a few were holding their brooms. They were matched pretty cleanly with his own friends, which Harry strongly suspected was purposeful. He'd only been playing with Ron, Neville, Hermione, Ginny and Melanie; Nanna was pouting in the stands, broomless. While Ron, Ginny and Melanie were easily capable flyers, Keeper and Chasers respectfully, Hermione wasn't much of a Chaser, and Neville was only passable as a Beater. At the time, they'd only been playing with the quaffle, three on two with Harry seeking the snitch for himself, but Alan knew how Harry saw their potential for a full team. In turn, Alan's team was equally mixed in talent. Alan was quite equal to Harry as a seeker, but Salvador Hopkins, a fifth year, and Tracey Davis of their year were not into Quidditch, simply passable flyers. However, Lucille and Daphne more than made up for Tracey's mediocrity as a Chaser, and Blaise was decent at beating. It made the field pretty level, and since only Alan and Harry were actually on the Quidditch teams, even with Ron as a reserve after Harry and Neville had bullied him into trying out, there was little to complain about if the parties were trusted. Harry knew Alan wouldn't play dirty - he'd play damn hard, but not dirty.
"Mercilessly, Alan. You think you're willing to play that hard on a free day?"
"Why not? Or is the Gryffindor scared?"
Harry straightened his broom and came level with Alan. "Scared of you, Alan? Hardly." Harry waved Madam Hooch over from where she was watching them with her hawk-like gaze, and she came with a frown. Gryffindor and Slytherin on the pitch together, even for a free game, wasn't an ideal situation.
"You two having problems?" She asked, brusquely.
"No." Harry answered easily. "We've agreed to a pick-up match, only one bludger because we've only got one beater each."
Madam Hooch looked between them carefully, and Alan merely nodded, looking superior. Harry had to fight to keep from laughing. Finally, Madam Hooch sighed. "Alright. Back to the ground, then, and I'll start you off."
Harry and Alan followed her down, and quickly Harry's friends gathered behind him with varying expressions. Neville looked curious; most of the others were irritated and curious, but they quickly turned to Hooch.
"Alright, Mr. Potter and Mr. Prince have agreed upon a match. It's a friendly match, so I expect clean play. Are all of you agreed to it?"
There was a chorus of nods from Alan's, and Harry looked between his friends, watching them exchange glances. Neville mostly just shrugged, and Ron had somehow managed to pick out Alan's Keeper and made a staring contest of it. Salvador glared back, and Ron fidgeted before nodding firmly. Salvador grinned, teeth white against his dark skin. Out of the stands, however, Nanna came running.
"I wanna play, Harry!"
Harry eyed her carefully, and then shook his head. "Nanna, you're first, too small, and second, you have no broom."
Nanna continued over, and planted her feet before Harry and scowled up at him. "First off, I'm bigger than you were when you came here and secondly, I can easily borrow one of the twin's brooms. Then you can whoop these Snakes with two bludgers."
Neville paled at that suggestion, but shrugged when Harry eyed him. They both knew Nanna was both an excellent flier and an enthusiastic beater. However, even being taller than Harry at that age, she was still quite small and with Neville as the other beater, she'd be foremost in running interference; Neville played beater because he wanted a beater's bat if he was going to be on the pitch. Alan cleared his throat across from them, and Harry almost felt relief.
"Well, we can't have uneven teams and I'm not sure if I have another player …"
"I can play." Theodore offered. Both teams looked over at him; Alan raised his eyebrows. "Chaser, so Tracey could move to beater. I'm not excellent, but against them I think I can handle it." He gave Harry and his a superior look; Harry didn't bother responding. Ginny could glare just fine. Harry looked at Alan, and then Tracey, who now seemed to be as pleased with the set up as Neville was. Maybe she was nervous about the bludgers too. Harry finally tried his last hope, looking beseechingly to madam Hooch. However, she wasn't much help.
"First years can borrow brooms if they desire to join in on a free game. Your parents never sent a letter denying that, Mr. Potter." She finished dryly. "It's your call." She gave the Slytherins another suspicious look.
Harry sighed in defeat, and then straightened. Nanna was a better beater than Neville was, really. It was just … his little sister. But Neville and Ron's little sisters were playing too, and she'd never give him any peace.
"Accio Fred's broom." Harry offered. The shed door bumped open, and the broom danced easily over, coming to a stop when Nanna happily grabbed it and climbed on.
With the teams settled, there was little else to be done. Everyone was quite certain of who was on their teams, so they balanced on either side of the box of Quidditch balls, and waited patiently while students hurried into the stands to watch. Pick-up games between Gryffindor and Slytherin didn't usually get Hooch's permission to occur, so students came from everywhere to see just how violent this game would get. Harry gave Alan his best cold game face, and got one right back. The snitch was already out, and Hooch waited, giving Harry and Alan another stern look before blowing the whistle and starting the game. Harry nearly fell off his broom when a young man's voice called out,
"And they're off, Prince versus Potter on today's pick-up game of the year! The quaffle starts out, and Potter's Miss Longbottom snatches it up to make the run to Prince's goal."
Harry didn't recognize the voice, but he strongly suspected it was one of Prince's coterie. However, it was still a Quidditch game, and Harry was now resting above the game to watch the play go by beneath him. Theodore had the quaffle now and was barrelling down the pitch to Ron, but he nearly lost his grip when Nanna beat a bludger straight across his vision. Taking advantage of his distraction in an unexpected tactical manoeuvre, Hermione skimmed by and batted the quaffle out of his grasp, dropping it into Ginny's waiting arms below. Hermione was forced to dive herself as she nearly ran into Lucille before she could get out of the way. Lucille herself went up and over, showing a sportsmanship unexpected in a Slytherin.
Harry's attention returned to his surroundings when Alan took a fly by on him, rolling away from a bludger shot from Neville. It wasn't exactly well aimed, but for a bludger, that wasn't necessarily a huge requirement. Harry dodged away from it, and it returned to the fray below, but Alan was now in Harry's area, and Harry took advantage of the moment.
"Interesting choice of game, Prince." Harry called.
Alan looked at him with an unguarded look of amusement, and turned it immediately into a malicious grin. "I felt we needed a Slytherin commentator one of these days. Malcolm has his sights set on edging out Lee Jordan, or at least taking over for him. Think he's any good?" Alan then fell into a dive, Harry copying him. Harry noted that apparently he'd gotten his Firebolt back, as they were completely evenly matched on the plow. A glance ahead put the suspicion of a fake-out in Harry's mind, but he kept up, wanting to see what Alan was really up to. It wasn't long before they were nearing the ground, and Harry watched Alan, knowing there was no snitch, and as soon as he pulled up, Harry arced away to the other side, returning to his careful scanning.
Across from him, Alan hissed and barrel-rolled, a bludger streaming by his face to belt into the ground. Nanna screamed her happiness, and turned to intercept the bludger going to Melanie. Belting it upset her flying almost every time she connected, but it was a simple matter to her to correct or use the change and to keep on going. The bludger she'd hit into the ground finally pulled itself out, and rejoined by fray, but by then Harry was already skirting the pitch to return to his high vantage. Going up put him past Malcolm where he was commentating.
"And the seekers, team captains both, try a fake-out that fails rather anti-climatically. Miss Potter beats a bludger, throwing Prince off course, and Potter picks up and takes back to the skies. We're sitting at forty-twenty, Potter's leading but we've got Pupp at the goalposts against Weasley, shoot … Weasley makes another save, leaving the score in place, and sending the quaffle to Miss Weasley."
The save brought a grand cheer from one of the stands, where a large number of students had gathered to watch the impromptu game. The glance showed him a spark of gold, and Harry leaned into his broom to shoot to the spot. Alan, above him, paused and then followed, and Harry put on an extra burst of speed, pressed almost flat against his broom. If Alan was going for it, it really was the snitch …
Behind him, Neville yelled in panic, and Harry gripped tight and gave a swift roll without even really thinking about it. Something grazed his fingers and he came up on the other side, glimpsing a bludger growing distant and hearing faint cursing from behind him. He smiled even as his eyes rooted on the hovering snitch once more. Neville must be having a heart attack.
Watching the snitch, however, gave him a good sense that Alan was closer, and, with equal brooms, he was most definitely going to get there first. The thought almost distressed him, but he pushed it aside. He could lose to Alan, but he shouldn't look that calm. Harry ground his teeth, and tried to work just another inch of speed from his broom – and Alan was forced to spin out of his dive as a bludger sped to where he'd just rested. Harry gained the space he needed; Alan swore behind him, and Harry reached to find the snitch gone over his head flying out of reach –
And into Alan's swift grasp.
Harry snarled as Alan grabbed it, surprised at the change, but the Slytherin turned it into a superior grin, and turned to fly back to the pitch, hand held triumphantly over his head. Harry dropped low to make it back to the pitch and his own team, upset at the loss, but not overly so. Neville looked simply grateful to be out of the air, and away from the bludgers, but Nanna looked disheartened alongside Melanie. Still in the air, Alan and his coterie were making quite a ruckus, and Hooch was watching them where they stood with a distracted look. Harry supposed she was surprised at the clean game; not a single of Alan's had tried to make a foul; in fact, they'd avoided them completely. There hadn't been a single foul at all. It must have been a school record, or something.
Harry turned back to Nanna and put his hand on her shoulder, smiling down at her, pleased for a moment that he still could, that she was shorter than him though not by much. "It's alright Nanna; you did good. That was your bludger that knocked him off his path, right?" She nodded sullenly. "I almost had it because of that; he was going to beat me there. He only caught it because it reversed direction right at him."
Nanna paused, and then nodded once more. Behind him, Harry heard the Slytherins land, and turned to watch them carefully. Alan calmly walked back to him and stopped midway between their teams. Harry pulled away and went to meet him, stopping with a fair space between them. Alan smiled wryly and mockingly bowed.
"A very well played game, Potter. Very well played game. I thank you for allowing it, and wish you better luck next year when we're playing for real."
"You only caught the snitch due to chance, Prince." Harry growled. "I don't know why you look so happy; your team was losing." It was a round-a-bout way to ask what had him grinning like a Cheshire cat. Alan, however, chose not to answer in any discernable form.
"I think beating the infamous 'youngest seeker in a century' is reason enough." He relinquished the snitch to madam Hooch as she walked up, and then turned his back easily and went off to join his own team, and the rest of his coterie. Harry growled, and went back to the others. Alan's answer was pointless; he couldn't see what on earth he'd meant with it. While the frustration was useful in keeping up appearances, it didn't make Harry feel that much better.
Silently, Harry led the others to putting up their brooms and heading back inside. His frown had eased quickly as the others spoke warmly of the enjoyable match; Hermione was feeling several times more confident about her ability to fly, and Nanna was ecstatic at the praise she was receiving for her beating skills. Melanie and Ginny were overflowing with praise, and Ron was simply happy to practice. Harry supposed he'd personally enjoyed it as well. Playing against Alan was a real challenge, one he didn't come across often. Enigmatic habits, or not, it was still true fun.
A/N: Thank you for so many reviews, will I be graced with more for this chapter as well? I hope you enjoy it!
Fire & Napalm