Harry went to visit Hagrid with Ron, Hermione, and Neville on Saturday morning. They stayed there for most of the day, catching up with him. The moment they got in his hut, Hagrid had started telling them about his 'good' news.

"The Skrewts are gettin' bigger!" he had said with an enthusiastic grin that Harry and the others could not return.

Hagrid then went on to talk about the Skrewts' eating habits and whether they would grow armors, fangs, or pincers. It wasn't really an enjoyable thought, but Harry couldn't help laughing at the horrified expressions on his best friends' faces that Hagrid thought Harry was as excited about the Skrewts as he was. He had almost invited himself to nights with Blast-Ended Skrewts, if not for the very handy excuse of piles of homework to finish. After that, Harry steered the conversation away from the Skrewts—he liked being on the safe side of things from time to time.

As was normal during that year, the conversation turned to the upcoming Triwizard Tournament. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville tried to get Hagrid to tell them about the method of selection of the contestants and the tasks they had to perform, but surprisingly, nothing came out of him. It was thus that they left Hagrid's hut still quite in the dark about the Tournament.

Harry headed for the Quidditch pitch, carrying his Firebolt with him. It was still five minutes to four when he arrived. He scanned the air for Ginny but didn't see any sign of her, so he figured that she was still making her way towards the pitch. He made his way to the stands and waited for Ginny to arrive.

"Hey, you're early," called Ginny. She was walking towards him, a Quaffle clipped under her arm. He checked his watch—four on the dot.

"I was at Hagrid's," he explained, gesturing to his friend's hut near the Forbidden Forest. He stood up to meet Ginny.

"I'll just go get a broom," she said, and headed towards the broom shed. Harry followed her.

"How's Hagrid?" she asked conversationally. "I haven't visited him this term."

"Still Hagrid," he replied. "He couldn't stop talking about the Blast-Ended Skrewts."

"You mean the Blasted Skrewts?" she said in mock vindictiveness.

"Is that what they're called now?" he asked, chuckling. She nodded at him with a gravity that only a child could muster, making him burst out in amused laughter.

Presently, Harry and Ginny stopped in front of the door to the broom shed. Ginny rested her Quaffle against a wall to prevent it from rolling.

"You know what I just realized?" said Harry. Ginny straightened and turned to face him. "You have to have permission to get a broom, and you can't open the shed with Alohomora, how did you get in this Wednesday? Actually, how do you get in?"

Ginny grinned mischievously at him and deliberately turned to face the door, as if to say 'watch and learn'. She took from her pocket a pair of what looked like straightened metal paperclips and started picking the lock. Harry's jaw dropped.

"How…?"

She looked up at him and started laughing softly. He must have been wearing a stupid expression. Realizing that it was still open, he closed his mouth.

"Fred and George," she said as a way of explanation. A click sounded and she twisted the doorknob. A moment later, the door opened and she went in to get a broom.

Well, of course it was Fred and George. Harry had seen them use it once. But Ginny? He thought he had found out enough about her during that Wednesday evening. He realized now that he had to rearrange that trunk again. Really, he should organize that trunk, who knew what other things he would find out about her. He ought to have seen this one though. There was a reason her grins were so mischievous.

Once he had gotten over his new-found realization of Ginny's mischievous streak, Harry realized something else. By that time, Ginny had chosen a broom, the same Comet 180 she had used last Wednesday. She walked out of the shed and closed the door behind her, not locking it.

"How come it opens with the paperclips and not with Alohomora?" he wondered.

"They didn't think people would use paperclips?" she ventured nonchalantly.

"They should have thought of everything," he commented. "They should have made sure that it was secure in every angle."

Professor Lupin, Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, his father's close friend, and easily his favorite teacher, had told him that. If you have to secure something, secure it from every possible angle.

"It's not like they were hiding gold or something," said Ginny. "And besides," she continued, a grin playing on her face, "I wouldn't have anything to fly on if they 'secured every angle'."

Harry was right. "Race you to the other end of the pitch?" he challenged, gesturing to the goalposts. "I'll give you a head start."

She scoffed. "I do not need your head start," she said, pretending to be insulted and glaring mockingly at him.

"You sure?" he asked lightly. "Firebolt versus Comet," he reminded her, waving the Firebolt around to emphasize his point.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, then at the Firebolt. She seemed to be considering her options.

"Okay," she finally said. "Thirty seconds…"

Thirty seconds wasn't really a fair head start. His Firebolt was light-years ahead of her Comet in speed alone, but he recognized a final tone anywhere. And from the little he knew of Ginny Weasley, he understood that when she said it's final, it is final.

"Okay, thirty seconds it is."

She grinned at him one last time before taking off towards the end of the pitch. Harry counted thirty seconds, then mounted his Firebolt and sped after her. Needless to say, he won the race. He hovered among the goalposts, waiting for her to get there, which took about a minute. He grinned smugly at her.

"I was handicapped," she defended. He didn't say anything, his wide, smug grin spoke for him.

"Whatever," she said flatly. Unable to help himself, he started chuckling. She gave him a grudging smile and started circling the goalposts.

"So, what are we going to do now?" he asked her. Usually, he would just fly around the pitch practicing his tricks.

"Shoot goals," she said in a stating-the-obvious sort of way. "Oh wait, I forgot my Quaffle." She turned in the air and started flying back towards the broom shed, where she had left the ball.

"Wait, Ginny!" Harry called after her. She checked her direction and faced him with a questioning look on her face. "I wanna try this out," he told her. He wanted to do the Summoning Charm, he had only just gotten it right yesterday, and he wanted to see if he could make it work from a distance.

"Accio!" he cried, pointing his wand at the direction of the Quaffle. For a second, he thought it hadn`t worked, but then the ball rose from the ground and started speeding in his direction.

"Yeah!" he yelled, catching the Quaffle. He held it up to Ginny, showing off. "I nailed it!" He hadn't really expected his Summoning Charm to work from that far, but he had done it. He wanted to tell everyone he knew, no matter how unimportant it seemed. "I did it!"

Ginny grinned amusedly at him. "Accio?" she asked, speaking the word as though she was testing its roll in her tongue.

Harry nodded at her, still beaming from his success. She took her wand from her pocket and pointed it in his direction. He thought that he had annoyed her and she wanted to hex him, but he realized a moment later that she was trying the Summoning Charm.

"Accio!" she cried, concentrating on the Quaffle in Harry's hand. It didn't move.

"Hey, that's a grade four spell, you know," he told her.

"Accio!" she cried again, obviously not listening to him. This time, the Quaffle rolled from Harry's hand.

"Whoa!" he cried as he caught the Quaffle that had fallen from his hands. He looked up at Ginny. She was wearing a thoughtful expression.

"You know, I could achieve the same effect by using Expelliarmus on you," she said. He looked at her in alarm, wondering if she was really going to do it, but she only grinned at him. Hopefully, she was just joking.

"Don't worry, I won't do it," she assured him. She turned her attention back to the Quaffle. She concentrated on it for a long time, wand at the ready. A few minutes later, she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and cried, "Accio!"

The red ball flew from Harry's hand and headed towards Ginny. She caught it smoothly, laughing like a child being tickled as she did so. He was dumbstruck.

"Okay," he began. That was it. He had had enough. "What can't you do?" he asked. It seemed so much easier than asking what she could do. The list of answers would probably be much shorter.

She looked at him, amused. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"It took me a week to get that right!" he exclaimed. He was slightly put off. To be outdone by someone younger than he was—it wasn't exactly a good feeling.

"Hey, don't take it too badly," she told him, the grin not leaving her face. "I just happen to be good at Charms," she added, not in a bragging way.

He grinned at her, satisfied with her answer. There were those kinds of people—his mum was one. He suddenly felt a little childish for resenting the fact that she had mastered the Summoning Charm in no time.

"Hey, check this out," called Ginny.

She swung her arm a certain way and threw the Quaffle at Harry. He was still thinking about her Summoning Charm though and was not ready for the ball that was coming towards him. He quickly held out his hand, but did not expect to catch it. However, the ball spun around his hand so that it was securely in his grip by the time it stopped.

"Whoa," he murmured, amazed. For a moment, he thought he had gotten better at catching things, but then he realized it had something to do with the way Ginny had thrown the ball at him. "How did you do that?"

"Here, I'll show you," she said. She flew towards him and gestured for him to pass the Quaffle to her. He did so, and she caught it deftly.

"Alright, so you know how the Quaffle is charmed to fall slowly downwards?" she asked rhetorically.

"Yeah…" he replied, wondering where this was going.

"The concept is to use that charm to let the Quaffle go right smack into your teammates' hand," she explained. "It's quite useful, especially when you're in a really fast-paced situation… You see, the charm only activates when the Quaffle is falling, but there's still traces left of it when it's not activated—that's what you use for this trick…. Well, I'm not really sure how it works—how that trace is being used, I mean—but you just swing you arm like this—"

She demonstrated it, swinging her arm in a clockwise-backwards motion.

"—and then," she continued, "at the last second—at the instance before the ball leaves your hand—you flick your fingers this way—"

She demonstrated the correct way to flick the fingers.

"—so that the ball spins towards the direction of your teammate. Anyway, what happens is the ball tries to find a solid thing for it to sort of rest on. And just so long as it hits your hand, it will spin to your palm. The Gripping charm is used in this too…. Somehow, they manipulate the air around the ball so that your teammate will always be able to catch it."

Harry looked at Ginny with a blank expression on his face. He was distracted by all the explanations about how the charms on the Quaffle, coupled with the spins applied to it, made it easy to catch for his teammate. She laughed at the look on his face.

"Okay, the technicalities aren't really necessary," she said, amused. "Just do it this way."

She demonstrated the trick again, this time without the confusing explanations. It made much more sense to him, now that it was just movements. It even looked familiar.

"Oh, I know that!" he exclaimed. "My Dad tried to teach me that trick when I was younger… I never got it. I found it too bothersome at the time. I was more interested in his broom tricks."

"Born to be a Seeker, huh?" she said half-jokingly.

"Born to be a Chaser, huh?" he parried, passing the Quaffle back to her. She rolled her eyes at him. "Did someone teach you that trick, or did you learn it on your own?"

"Charlie taught me," she replied. "Do I look like someone who would research about all those charms and stuff?"

Well, he wasn't sure. On the one hand, he knew that she was not like Hermione. She definitely did not go around the library researching charms. On the other hand, she really loved Quidditch and Chasing, so maybe she would research it. In the end, he gave her a shrug.

"Charlie taught me," she said again, just to be clear. She passed the Quaffle to Harry, who, ready this time, caught it expertly. "He's the only one among my brothers who knows that I sneak out at night trying each of their brooms—"

"You sneak out?" asked Harry. He was a little confused. "Why? Don't they know that you can fly?"

"Well, I guess they know—"

He passed the Quaffle back to her.

"—but they don't know that I really love it as much as they do. I mean, they don't know that I put a lot of time into it…."

"So Charlie's the only one who knows?"

"Yeah…."

She turned to the directions of the goal posts and shot the Quaffle. It went smoothly through the middle hoop. Harry went to retrieve the slowly falling ball.

"Charlie's really good, isn't he," he commented. He had played with Charlie that summer and he now understood why Charlie was a legend at Hogwarts.

"Yeah, he is," agreed Ginny. "When he found out that I could fly, he began teaching me about Quidditch. I got almost everything I knew from him."

"Ah…no wonder you're so good," Harry said half-jokingly, passing her the ball.

Ginny shrugged at him in mock-conceit, Quaffle in one hand. He laughed at her reaction, and she suddenly threw the Quaffle at him, not using her technique. His reflexes were pretty quick though and he was able to catch the ball smoothly. He mirrored her boastful shrug, making her laugh in amusement.

"So, who taught you?" asked Ginny.

"Flying or Quidditch?"

"Cooking," she said sarcastically. Harry ignored her comment.

"Dad taught me about Quidditch," he said. "As for flying, I'm not really sure," he admitted. "I've known how to fly for as long as I can remember, but most likely my Dad—"

"As if there's anyone else—"

"Well, Sirius claims that he was the one who taught me."

"And you believe him?" she asked incredulously.

"Actually, I like to think that I was born knowing how to fly," he replied. "It's inborn," he added grandly, shooting the ball smoothly through one of the hoops.

Ginny gave a disbelieving snort. "You are pretty good though," she conceded after a moment. "Even when you were in first year, Ron told me. Did you play too? I mean, before you came to Hogwarts? Where?"

Harry flew back up from retrieving the Quaffle.

"I don't really play as in play—like in a seven-a-side team," he said, "but I always fly with my Dad at the—"

"Quidditch Centre," they said in unison.

"Of course," said Ginny. "How could I forget, you own the Potter Quidditch Centre."

"My parents own it, not me," Harry corrected her as he passed the Quaffle to her.

"Yeah, but it'll be yours someday," she said, easily catching the ball.

"Oh, don't remind me," he said darkly. He didn't really like the idea of managing the Quidditch Centre, of taking over the 'family business'. Sure, he worked there during summers, but it was only minding the store, or cleaning the equipment, or keeping track of the rent-time on the pitch. Management, however, was another matter, especially something as big as the Quidditch Centre.

"Don't you want it?" she asked, confused. "It's Quidditch!" she added, sounding as though it settled everything.

"Well yeah, Quidditch is fun, but I think business will take the fun out of it. I don't know…I'm just not a business type of person."

"Business isn't that bad. I've seen Fred and George at it. They make it seem fun, actually…. And besides, it's Quidditch!"

"Alright, when I get the Centre I'll let you manage it," he told her jokingly. "We'll even share the profit."

"No problem," she said, cottoning on to his joke. "Just let me know when you do get it."

Ginny threw the Quaffle at Harry, using her passing technique again. He grinned as the Quaffle spun on his hand.

"You should try that," she said, "it's really cool."

"Well, teach me then."

"I am teaching you. Here, pass that back—just do what I do."

Harry practiced Ginny's passing technique for a while. Sometimes, he got the swing right, at others, he got the flicking of the fingers. Sometimes, he could do both right (or at least he thought he did them right), but he just couldn't get the ball to fly smack into Ginny's hand.

"Argh, this is annoying!" he said after about the umpteenth frustrated try.

"Don't beat yourself up," she told him. "It took me about a month to get that right."

"Yeah, but you were still a kid then, weren't you?"

"I was nine."

"See," he said, sounding as though he had proved her wrong with something. "I'm fourteen now—much older than you were when you learned that trick."

"So?"

"I'm much older," he said again, "I should get it quicker."

"What does age have to do with it?" she asked testily. "Ron's older than me and I'm more mature than he is."

Harry snorted. He couldn't help but agree with her. He looked at her, amused. For the longest time, he had thought of her as a little kid, simply because she was a year younger than him. But it was all starting to change now. She wasn't a little girl. She was actually someone he could hang out with. Age really didn't have anything to do with it.

"Can we just not continue with this," he said, almost pleadingly.

"Are you quitting?" she accused.

"No! I'm just taking a break," he defended. "Hey, it took you a month, didn't it? I still have twenty-nine days."

"I thought that 'you should get it quicker 'cause you're older'," she quoted wryly.

"Well, age doesn't matter," he conceded. "You said so yourself."

Ginny laughed, passing the Quaffle to Harry. The ball changed hands from time to time. Sometimes, one of them would shoot it through the hoops and the other would retrieve it. Between the two of them, it was quite clear who was the better scorer. He might have a lot more flying tricks up his sleeve, but he knew he couldn't shoot the ball as surely and as smoothly as she did. She really was a natural Chaser.

"Let's get back?" Ginny said after a while, the statement more of a suggestion than a question. "I'm hungry."

Harry checked his watch. It was dinnertime, and he was hungry too. Looking around, he realized that the magical stadium lights were already on. It had been a cloudy day, so he hadn't noticed them being turned on in place of the sun's light.

"Yeah, I'm hungry too."

Ginny started flying towards the ground. Harry followed and landed smoothly beside her. He wordlessly tossed the Quaffle to her and they walked towards the broom shed, where she deposited the Comet she had borrowed.

"You coming here next Saturday?" she asked as she got out of the shed, locking the door behind her.

"Yeah."

"Let's come earlier," she suggested. "The Champions will be chosen next Saturday. We don't want to miss that."

"Oh yeah, it's already Halloween next Saturday," he said, just realizing the fact. "What time should we come here then?"

"How about two-thirty?"

"Two-thirty's fine," he said, nodding and grinning at her.

She looked up at him, returning his grin with her own, which never seemed to lose its trace of mischief even when she wasn't doing anything mischievous.

"Two-thirty it is," she decided.

Betaed by: PadfootProngs7