Chapter Eight: Quidditch

The next few weeks following the attack on the Muggle village in the Black Forest flew by for Harry, who was discovering just how grueling and exhausting his schedule was between teaching, taking N.E.W.T. classes, and Quidditch. He was grateful for Hermione's help teaching the younger years and treasured the lesson plans they had spent weeks putting together at the end of the summer. His N.E.W.T. classes were challenging and the homework load was worse than 5th year preparations for the O.W.L.s. Harry, however, found himself eager to learn and putting a greater effort into his homework than he had in his previous years at Hogwarts. Nothing was going to keep Harry from becoming an Auror. Hermione was impressed by Harry's increased interests in academics and was relieved that all Harry ever asked of her was to look over his essays for any glaring errors, which there were very little. Ron, on the other hand, was not so keen on applying himself in his final year.

"Come on, 'Mione. Just the introduction, please. I swear, I'll never ask you for anything ever again," Ron begged.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her desperate boyfriend sitting across from her in the Common Room. She had heard this promise at least ten times in the last two weeks and she was beginning to grow weary of it. Though she wasn't having much trouble balancing her homework and her teaching responsibilities, it was becoming increasingly complicated by Ron's constant pleas for her help. Help that usually consisted of Ron paraphrasing her own work or Hermione staying up for an extra hour or two and writing Ron's essays while he listlessly flipped through his textbooks pretending to study.

"Fine but this is the last time, Ronald Weasley. You'll never pass your examinations if you don't start doing some of this on your own. Honestly, I don't know why I let you push me over all these years," Hermione grumbled, pulling out a fresh piece of parchment and starting to write.

"Because you're the most brilliant, kind person I've ever met," said Ron, giving Hermione a kiss on the cheek as he walked over to Harry, who was sitting in his favorite armchair working on a Charms essay.

"Ron, you really should try doing some of your homework on your own. I think Hermione is feeling a bit used at the moment," said Harry, looking up form his essay.

Ron sat down in the chair next to Harry and let out a soft laugh.

"Oh, if she didn't want to do it, she wouldn't. It's Hermione after all."

"She did have a good point about the N.E.W.T.s though. I mean, these are the ones that will define what we do after Hogwarts," argued Harry, angry that Ron was dismissing Hermione's frustration so easily.

"Easy for you to say," Ron snapped back, "You only have to get three N.E.W.T.s to qualify for Auror training because of last year. I still don't understand why Hermione and I weren't at least offered two free N.E.W.T.s as well. Bloody hell, we performed magic as well as you did. Just because we weren't the ones to kill Voldemort doesn't mean we aren't as good wizards. Besides, I don't know that I want to be an Auror anyway. Thinking I might follow in Wood's footsteps and try-out for keeper on one of the reserve teams for the Chuddley Cannons. Doesn't matter what I make on the N.E.W.T.s then."

Harry stared at Ron in disbelief.

"You know I didn't ask to only need three N.E.W.T.s to qualify for training! And it's not like I've been just sitting here on my arse enjoying the good life," Harry's voice was getting louder. "You haven't even tried to do your own homework! You just beg Hermione until she gives in. I don't know why she puts up with you. She deserves someone that actually appreciates her!"

"Oi!" Ron shouted, standing up. "If you don't shut your bloody trap, I will shut it for you. I don't care if you are Harry-freaking-Potter! You think you're so much better than everyone because you killed Voldemort, you saved the world, you're the golden boy of the wizarding world!"

By now, the entire Common Room was silent, watching Harry and Ron. Hermione was standing as well, unsure of what was happening.

"I HAVE NEVER THOUGHT I WAS BETTER THAN ANYONE!" bellowed Harry, shaking with anger.

"Really? Professor! Youngest Quidditch player in a century! Boy Who Lived! Boy Who Defeated You-Know-Who! Tri-Wizard Champion! Basilisk Killer! And however many other bloody titles you have!"

"Harry! Ron! Stop it!"

Hermione couldn't stand the shouting any longer. Rushing over, she placed herself between Ron and Harry, desperate to calm them down.

"Please, both of you! Fighting isn't going to help anything!"

"Stay out of this Hermione!" barked Ron, pushing her hand away from his chest.

"Don't touch her!" Harry growled menacingly.

"I'll do whatever I damn well please! In case you forgot, mate, this isn't last year. You're not the leader anymore. I don't have to answer to you," Ron retorted with an equally menacingly look.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on down here?" asked Ginny form the staircase.

"Ginny! Please, help me. I can't get them to stop," Hermione asked desperately.

With one look at the two boys, Ginny raced to Harry's side and cautiously grabbed his arm.

"Come on, Harry, just walk away. It's not worth it. You're both tired from the late-night Quidditch practices. You don't mean what you're saying."

Hermione implored Ron with a similar speech. Harry and Ron, both breathing hard and using ever last bit of will power not to trounce the other, backed away. Not taking his eyes off of Ron, Harry grabbed his things and let Ginny guide him upstairs. Hermione attempted to hold on to Ron's elbow to take him back to her table, but he jerked his arm away viciously. With a last look toward the stairs Harry had just disappeared up, Ron turned around and left through the portrait hole without a word. Hermione stood in the middle of the Common Room, her eyes filled with tears, unsure of whether to chase after Ron or see if Harry was okay. In the end, she decided to walk back to her table, ignoring the stares and whispers from the other Gryffindors, and went back to writing Ron's essay.

The next day, Harry left the dormitory before anyone else was awake, quickly eating breakfast and going to his office, still angry with Ron from the night before. Shortly after sitting down his desk chair, there was a knock on the door. Confused as to who could be coming to his office at this hour, Harry called for the visitor to come in. It was Hermione.

"Hermione? Why did you knock? This is your office too," Harry said, relieved to see her. He felt terrible that Hermione and Ginny had gotten caught in the middle of the fight between him and Ron.

"I know," said Hermione quietly, "I figured you were hiding in here from Ron so I didn't want to disturb you, in case you wanted some time alone."

"Thanks, Hermione. I appreciate it," Harry said. "Hermione, about last night… I'm sorry you got up in that mess. I don't know what I was thinking. I was a complete arse. I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"Yes, you probably should have," Hermione said, making Harry lower his head in shame, "but I appreciate you standing up for me. You just said what I wasn't brave enough to say to him." She let out a small sigh. "You know Ron didn't mean what he was saying about you. He was just mad and jealous."

"No, he meant what he said," Harry admitted wearily. "He wouldn't have said it otherwise, angry or not. Can't say I blame him, though. Face it, I do have a hundred bloody titles that make me sound a lot better than I am. I did get excused from two N.E.W.T.s when you and Ron deserved to be excused just as well. I mean, I wouldn't have gotten very far without the two of you. I honestly meant to talk to Kingsley about getting you both excused but then school started and then there was the Death Eater attack that took all of the Ministry's attention…" Harry was desperate to show Hermione that he didn't think he was better than anyone and that he deeply appreciated Ron and Hermione's help last year.

"I know, Harry, and Ron does too, if he would cool his temper longer enough to think straight," Hermione said bitterly. "I don't want to excuse Ron's behavior, but, and I swear if you tell him I told you this I will hex you, he's worried about what he's going to do after Hogwarts. He's not sure he'll get all of the qualifying N.E.W.T.s for Auror training and he thinks Quidditch is the only other thing he might be decent at but he's afraid he's not a good enough keeper to get picked up."

"But Ron's a brilliant keeper. He's come a long way since 5th year. He's at least as good as Oliver Wood, might even be better," said Harry, momentarily forgetting his anger at Ron. "As far as the N.E.W.T.s go, why do you keep doing his homework? Ron may be a bit thick some times, but he's not stupid. He could get the qualifying grades if he put his mind to it."

Hermione sighed and walked over to her desk, sitting down with an exhausted expression on her face. "He's miserable, Harry. He doesn't want anyone to know because, well, he's Ron. I don't know how to help him, besides doing his homework. I guess I keep hoping that if he at least reads what I write for him, something might stick that will help him with the examinations. Ron feels like he doesn't know what his place is anymore. Last year, he knew he was meant to help you find and destroy the horcruxes. We were the big players in a war. Ron loved the attention he caught afterward. All the interviews, the people who recognized on the street in Diagon Alley… Now, you and I are teachers, Ginny is captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Ron… Ron isn't sure where he fits in."

If there was any anger at Ron left in Harry, it disappeared as Hermione spoke. How had Harry not known Ron was feel so dismal? Guilt welled up in Harry, as he realized how little time he had spent with Ron this year, other than on the Quidditch pitch and at meals. He couldn't remember the last time the two of them had spoken to each other without Hermione or Ginny around. Harry and Hermione sat in sad, thoughtful silence, neither sure what to say now. Harry absentmindedly rubbed his scar. Though it had not physically pained him since the night Voldemort died, it still managed to bring emotional pain to him and his friends with everything it represented.

"How long do you think it'll be before Ron speaks to me again," Harry asked, gloomily.

"Give it a day or two. It's not like this was your first fight ever. It might not be a bad idea to try and see if you can get some time alone with Ron, maybe in the dormitory or the Common Room. He won't admit it, but he misses his best mate."

"Yeah. Right. I'll see what I can do."

It was another three days before Harry found himself alone with Ron in their dormitory. Prior to then, they had, on the few occasions when they had found themselves in the same room with other people, kept a tense silence. McGonagall, who had allowed Ron and Hermione to take Transfiguration with Harry on Tuesday's nights, had felt the stiffness between Ron and Harry, but choose not to say anything about it. Instead, she let them out early, which allowed Ron and Harry to return to an empty dormitory. Ron, upon entering the room, drew his bag beside his bed and began to loosen his scarlet and gold tie, keeping his back to Harry. Harry deciding to get the awkward conversation over with, stood between Ron and the doorway, preventing Ron from leaving.

"Ron, we need to talk."

"Nothing to talk about," Ron muttered, refusing to look Harry in the eye.

"Yes, there is," Harry said firmly. "Look, mate, I was out of line with what I said the other night. And, well, I'm sorry."

Surprised, Ron said, "Oh. Uh. Right. I'm sorry too, Harry. You weren't completely off your rocker with what you said. Just didn't want to admit it. Haven't really been myself lately, I guess."

"We're good, then? Don't think I could survive my 7th year without my best mate," said Harry, holding out his hand.

Ron smiled and grasped Harry's hand, giving it a firm shake. Then the two boys burst into laughter at how awkward and formal the situation had become. Taking advantage of their time alone, they sat down on their beds and filled the other in on how things had really been going. Most of what Ron said fell in line with what Hermione had told Harry a few days earlier. Harry shared his fears about teaching, Auror training, and how much he wished he wasn't always going to be remembered and referred to as the Boy Who Lived and the Boy Who Defeated You-Know-Who. Harry and Ron talked for a few hours, undisturbed, and then headed down in the Common Room to let Hermione know they had finally reconciled.

The morning of the Quidditch match with Slytherian, a few weeks later, Harry, Ron, and Ginny stood side by side, looking from the entrance to the Quidditch pitch at the hundreds of students dressed in green, silver, scarlet, and gold. Though it had been over a year since their last Quidditch match, they were feeling quite confident that they would be able to beat the Slytherian team quite easily. The oldest member of the Slytherian team was a 5th year named Jasmine Tether. The rest of the team was made up of 3rd and 4th years who had potential to be good Quidditch players but compared to the veteran Gryffindor team, they stood little chance of winning. Still, Ginny had scheduled a practice every evening, with the exception of Tuesday, when Harry and Ron had Transfiguration, so they wouldn't let their guard down too much.

"Alright, everyone," Ginny said, turning around to face the team, "this is it. Just because we're facing a young, inexperienced team doesn't mean we can go easy. We play hard. We play fair. We win. Got it?"

"Blimey, remember the speeches we used to get from Angelina before games? I'm glad Ginny knows how to keep things short and to the point," Ron whispered to Harry.

"No joke. Though, Ginny heard me complain enough about Wood's speeches and then she had to deal with Angelina's as well, I imagine she's trying to make it a point to keep 'em short," Harry whispered back.

"I heard that you two!" Ginny glared at Harry and Ron. "If you would like me to rant for another 10 minutes I can, since it is clear you two aren't listening anyway."

"Sorry, Ginny," Ron and Harry muttered as the other members of the team laughed.

"Boys. I swear. Come on, mount your brooms, it's time to go," Ginny commanded.

Harry swung his leg over his broom and tried to focus his mind on the match. With a nod from Madame Hooch, Harry, along with the rest of the team, kicked off and soared into the stadium. The crowd was so loud, you would have thought the Gryffindor team had just won. Taking a lap around the field, Harry looked into the stands and saw Hermione standing with Neville and Luna. Luna was wearing a rather large gold lion headpiece. Hermione was holding a sign that said "Fight, Fight Gryffindor" and Neville was waving a scarlet and gold pennant wildly in the air.

It was a perfect day for Quidditch. There was a cool breeze from the northeast blowing just enough to keep the players cool but not so strong as to affect flying or Quaffle passes. As Harry looped around the Gryffindor hoops, the Slytherian team entered the pitch. Pausing over the middle hoop, Harry felt sorry for the Slytherians. They looked so small compared to the Gryffindor team. The Slytherian seeker, Brian Mason, a third year, kept looking every direction, as though he thought the Snitch had already been released.

"Oi! Harry! Get in position!" Ron shouted at him, flying towards the hoops.

Harry shook his head.

"Get your head in the game, Potter," he thought to himself.

He flew towards the center of the field and waited for Madame Hooch to release the balls. The fans died down as Madame Hooch walked towards the trunk holding the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Golden Snitch. The grey, spiked hair flying instructor and Quidditch referee, in her official black and white robes, gazed up at the players with her yellow, hawk-like eyes and a fierce smile on her face.

"Alright, I expect a fair match today!" she shouted up at the players. "And make it a good one, Hogwarts has gone too long without a Quidditch match, let's not disappoint the fans."

Harry's respect for Madame Hooch grew with her passionate words. He knew she loved Quidditch and he could only imagine how hard it must have been for her to go an entire year without referring a single Hogwarts Quidditch match. Harry tightened his grip on his broom handle, ready to fly. Madame Hooch placed her thin silver whistle in her mouth and gave the ball box a kick. The two Bludgers and the Snitch flew from the box with enormous speed, as though they were just as eager to be back on the Quidditch pitch as the players. Bending down, Madame Hooch picked up the Quaffle, took a deep breath, blew into the whistle, and threw the Quaffle high into the air.

Ginny reached the Quaffle first, ducking under one of the Slytherian Chasers and raced towards the Slytherian hoops. The Slytherian Keeper, a 4th year named Jansen Flume, had a look of sheer terror on his face, as Ginny approached, Quaffle in her right hand, ready to throw. Just as she was about to score, out of no where, Kendra Holtz, a 3rd year, flew up from under Ginny and took the Quaffle from Ginny's outstretched hand. Harry, who had been circling above, looking for a glint of gold, was impressed by the play, considering Ginny's speech about keeping up their guard. He had to admit, it was a bit satisfying to see the look of shock and disbelief on Ginny's face as Holtz stole the Quaffle. Suddenly, there was a loud cheer from the crowd. Turning his head, Harry saw Ron holding the Quaffle. Apparently, he had just made a brilliant save.

"Harry! Quit watching the Quaffle and find the damn Snitch!" Ginny called, taking her anger from being bested by a 3rd year Slytherian, on Harry.

Harry didn't respond. Instead, he threw a dark look at Ginny, and flew away. He knew Ginny was a good coach and a great Quidditch player but it was hard to take orders from someone not only younger than him, but his girlfriend as well. He did not expect favoritism or for Ginny to go easy on him by any means. Just like Ron, professional Quidditch was Harry's back-up plan if Auror training didn't work out. However, lately, it seemed as though Ginny was being extra harsh on Harry, making sure to point out Harry's mistakes obnoxiously loud, so that everyone on the team could hear. He had been meaning to talk Ginny about it, but their time was limited, at best, with Harry's hectic schedule. The few hours they did have together each week, he wanted to spend enjoying her company, not fighting.

Changing tactics, Harry flew closer to the ground, now wanting to catch the Snitch just so the game would end sooner and he wouldn't have to deal with anymore "demands" from his "captain." As he continued to circle around the pitch, keeping one eye on the Slytherian's Seeker, Gryffindor scored five goals without much trouble. The Slytherian Chasers were, individual, talented, but they had not yet learned how to work together to get the Quaffle from one side of the pitch to the other. Passes were intercepted. Quaffles were stolen from poorly protected arms. The Slytherian Beaters were so focused on keeping the Bludgers from knocking them off their brooms, they didn't bother to try aiming at any of the Gryffindor places. In fact, they had hit their own players twice, nearly knocking out Jasmine Tether. Now, catching the Snitch would be showing some mercy to the Slytherian team, whose moral was dropping as fast as the Gryffindor score was rising.

Then Harry saw it, a glimmer of bright gold, buzzing around the middle hoop just below were Ron was sitting. Learning forward on his broom, Harry sprinted towards Ron as the crowd began to cheer louder. Harry's heart raced with adrenaline and his unwavering eyes squinted in concentration. He could sense Mason approaching from behind but his eyes never left the Snitch, which was now zooming towards the box where the professors were sitting. Steering towards the right, Harry leaned forward further, increasing his speed, dodging in and out of players and Bludgers. Mason was now alongside Harry, audibly begging his broom to go faster. The Snitch flew behind the box, forcing Harry and Mason to split apart, each going around one side, only to fly back around towards the center of the pitch, as the Snitch lead them on. Harry and Mason were side by side once again, gaining on the Snitch. At the same moment, they both reached out, stretching as far as they dared, fingers barely brushing the back of the Snitch. Suddenly, the Snitch dropped towards the crown and Harry and Mason immediately dove. As the ground sped towards them, Harry remembered his first Quidditch match where he raced the Slytherian seeker towards the ground in a game of chicken. It had been Harry who won, catching the Snitch in his mouth. Luckily for Harry, who now had a faster broom and more experience, was able to just outreach Mason and snatch the Snitch with his hand, before pulling up on his broom and landing triumphantly with his first in the air.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Madame Hooch shouted, blowing her whistle to signal the end of the game.

The crowd roared and Harry was knocked to the ground by Ginny, who had thrown herself at Harry in excitement. The rest of the Gryffindor team then jumped on top of both of them, shouting and laughing. For the first time, in a very, very long time, Harry felt like a normal student. His only thought, as he laid buried underneath a slew of Gryffindors, was that he hoped Sirius and his parents could see him now. What Harry didn't know, was that there was someone watching him closely from afar.

Nott stood, his gaze fixed on the Quidditch pitch. Based on the crowd's cheer, he assumed Potter had caught the Snitch somewhere close to the ground, out of Nott's sight. Hearing a branch snap behind him, Nott whirled around, wand drawn, ready to duel.

"Put your wand away, boy. It is only us."

The three hooded figures emerged from the shadows, their wands also drawn.

Nott gave them a small nod, and slipped his wand back into his robes.

"News?" he asked them briskly.

"We have found the family. They are not protected by Muggles or magic. We can easily attack and leave before anyone in the Muggle or wizarding community has the slightest inklings something happened," the smallest figure said with pleasure.

"When would you like to attack?" said one of the other figures.

"Tonight. It must happen tonight," Nott said earnestly. "I need to get out of these woods and Potter just managed to win his Quidditch match."

"What does Potter's match have to do with any of this?" the largest of the figures asked.

"Right about now, I imagine Potter is feeling like nothing can go wrong, that all is right in the world, and that there is hope this year will be a good year for him and his little friends at Hogwarts. His moral will be at its highest and therefore, will fall to its lowest when the news reaches him by morning of what has happened," Nott explained impatiently.

"I see. Let us move out then. We should be able to get to the house by nightfall."

Nott turned back towards the pitch, his body surging with energy, and softly said, "Enjoy your victory for now, Potter. You won't be feeling so victorious tomorrow."