Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
Thanks to all reviewers, luv ya! ;)
Nothing to clarify this time, yay! But I have some news that some might not like. I had to split this chapter too, again! Wasn't expecting that. But I promise that interesting things are happening in this one, and I'll post the other in a couple of more days.
From the things that were hinted at, one happened in the last chapter –the whole Abraxas half-Veela thing and knowing a bit what the red flower was– two things are happening in this chapter, and the final most important ones will happen in the next one! So everything's going to be covered ^^
That said, I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!
Part I: Chapter 17
Harry had seen the enormous Quiddicth pitch before, a week ago when Dorea Black, the Captain of the Slytherin Team and one of its Chasers, had held the tryouts. He had seen the proceedings from a distance, of course, knowing that he wouldn't be welcomed on the stands among his housemates.
He had seen how Dorea had ranted, railed, and shouted with anger and vexation during the entirety of the tryouts, looking thoroughly frustrated with those few she had ended up choosing to fill the empty positions in her team, even though their abilities clearly weren't up to her standards.
Tom had been in the library at the time. He hadn't bothered to even observe, since the boy had quite scathingly informed Harry that he considered the wizarding sport to be an utterly idiotic waste of time, with wizards flopping and flying around, stupidly chasing after balls – for what purpose? Nothing but entertainment for the half-brained masses, Tom had said with much condescension and disdain.
The young Flying Instructor, Jocunda Sykes, with her long ponytail of white hair, led them all towards the very center of the Quidditch field, where there were several long lines of ancient looking brooms lying on the grass, with broken or loose twigs in their tails, sticking out in odd angles.
"Choose a broom and stand before it," Sykes commanded without beating around the bush.
All the first-years scattered around, though it was very noticeable that they all stuck to their own housemates. Harry found himself aligned in the midst of the Slytherins, with Tom at one side and Alphard Black at the other, while the Prewett twins and Algie Longbottom were right in front of him.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Miss Sykes at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped at once, so abruptly and instantly that it almost slammed him on the face. Thankfully, his reflexes were very quick, and with some surprise, he swiftly caught his broom's handle. A wide, joyous grin spread on his face the next second.
But he was only one of the few who had been successful in his first try. Felicity managed it in her second attempt, while Felix was glowering at his broom, which just rolled and flopped around the lawn.
Algie Longbottom wasn't having much success, and he was now bellowing 'UP!' at the top of his lungs. Neron Lestrange was yelling too, but it sounded more like a snarl, as his broom wavered back and forth in the air, out of reach, as if afraid of the boy and not quite certain it wanted to be caught by him. Thaddeus Avery was grunting at his, which refused to move.
Myrtle Mimbletinon was by far the worst; her shrill voice quavering as she tremulously called her broom, looking afraid of it, as if expecting it would jump and bite her.
Only Alphard Black, Abraxas Malfoy, and Tom had succeeded in their first try, like Harry. Alphard Black looked happy about it but not surprised, while Malfoy and Tom seemed merely satisfied but clearly also indifferent after their success.
Half an hour later, after Sykes had helped everyone with how to call their brooms –spending most of her time with Myrtle, who didn't look at all happy with her broom in her hand- she then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips and postures.
"Not like that, Mr. McLaggen!" snapped the slim, young witch at the Ravenclaw, when Tiberius kept ignoring her instructions.
The Slytherins, in particular, sniggered and guffawed at this, Harry among them since he didn't like the boy, as the Minister's grandson turned red and puffed out in indignation at being told he had been doing it wrong for years. Olive Hornby shot them all very dirty looks, offended in her crush's behalf.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground, hard," said Miss Sykes, a golden whistle in hand, tied around her neck with a thin cord. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and just stay there, hovering."
They all did so, with different degrees of nervousness or confidence, the moment the whistle sounded.
Harry felt himself soaring, for a moment feeling such a startling sensation of sheer joy and unrestrained freedom that he was extremely tempted to just let go and allow himself and the broom to fly wildly without any restrictions. Shockingly enough, he felt as if one with the ancient broom, though it quivered and vibrated as if taxed, and he just wanted to see what they could do.
However, he caught sight of Tom's dark look of warning, and with a gusty sigh, Harry restrained himself, merely hovering three feet above the ground, as Sykes had instructed.
His brother was doing well too, but just like Abraxas Malfoy, only remained floating in midair without looking particularly thrilled, or eager to do more.
Tom had the same hard and joyless expression he had wore when Mr. Hutchins had taught them how to swim during the trips to visit Old John Bryce at Southend-on-Sea.
An expression that indicated that learning such provided no fun to Tom but, rather, that he made himself learn it and be good at it because it was an ability that could prove to be useful. And of course, if others knew how to do it, Tom wouldn't lag behind.
Alphard Black, on the other hand, and Felicity Prewett, had faces that shone with excitement and happiness, as they flew around in small circles. Neron Lestrange, too, after taking command of his old broom, seemed to be quite a good, experienced flyer as well.
Jocunda Sykes was peering up at all of them, her eyes shrewd, as if taking particular notice of those who were talented.
"I don't want to learn how to fly!" abruptly wailed Myrtle very loudly, letting out a terrified moan while she merely hovered a few inches off the ground.
"Very well, then dismount off your broom," barked Jocunda Sykes impatiently, "and just stand to a side and keep quiet, girl!"
Myrtle instantly did so, dropping her broom as if it was hot coals and hastily running as far away as possible from the rest of the hovering students, as if fearing that one of them would plummet down and crash on her.
"What is she doing here?" suddenly said Priscilla Pucey, sounding surprised yet also excited and pleased, hovering a few inches away from Harry as she addressed her question to the rest of the Slytherins.
Harry turned his head around, following the direction of the girl's gaze, and caught sight of Dorea Black striding towards Jocunda Sykes, with Dolohov trailing after her – that enormous, muscled third-year boy that Dorea had angrily berated at the Welcoming Feast.
"Oh, 'Rea always likes to watch the first-years' Flying Lessons," piped in Alphard Black, grinning widely and waving his free, left hand at his aunt.
"True," interjected the handsome Orion Black, rising slightly and quite unsteadily in order to participate in the conversation. "She does it every year. Wants to see who among the first-year Slytherins show some natural talent in flying. For the Quidditch Team, you know."
"But first-years aren't allowed to play Quidditch," snapped Capricia Carrow crossly, who unlike her friend Priscilla Pucey, hadn't grown to respect and worship Dorea Black. Capricia, most of times, looked bitterly envious of her.
"She's looking for future players, of course," pointed out Alphard, rolling his eyes at the girl. "Didn't you see how awful the new players were at the tryouts?"
"What is the Slytherin Captain doing here!" one of the Gryffindors suddenly groused angrily, apparently finally catching sight of her, which caused all the other students to take notice and start muttering and whispering sharply amongst themselves.
"Miss Black, what a pleasant surprise!" exclaimed Jocunda Sykes the moment the fifth-year girl reached her.
That warm welcome only made the Gryffindors whisper all the more furiously, about Sykes –who was also the Quidditch Referee- being biased in favor of Dorea Black and thus the Slytherin Team, about blatantly having favorites, the unfairness of it all and whatnot.
If the Flying Instructor heard them, she gave no sign of it. Sykes looked quite unconcerned as she smiled at Dorea Black. They did seem to be friends of sorts, as much as a teacher and a student could be such. And perhaps it wasn't all that strange, since Jocunda Sykes was relatively young - in her early twenties, from what he had heard.
The Slytherins were those closest to where Sykes, Dorea Black, and Dolohov were now standing, and thus they could overhear their conversation.
Jocunda was eyeing Dorea knowingly, as she murmured, "Want to see which of your housemates show some promise, do you?"
"It would help me," grumbled Dorea Black, a frustrated look on her face. "You should have seen my team's tryouts…" She let out a heavy sigh, before she smiled beautifully at the older witch, as she said cajolingly, "I'll treat you to a bottle of Ogden's on the first trip to Hogsmeade."
Sykes snorted and then arched a white eyebrow at her. "You already owe me twenty galleons for losing to Gryffindor last year."
"And yet a Quidditch arbiter shouldn't bet on the games she referees, should she?" intoned Dorea pleasantly, slightly smirking, though it looked playfully taunting instead of scolding or threatening.
Jocunda Sykes scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. Then her brown eyes narrowed as she glanced at her students, still hovering on their brooms several feet off the ground.
"Alright, I'll lend you a hand," she then said to Dorea. "You'll owe me two bottles of Ogden's Finest, mind you."
Dorea agreed to the deal with a satisfied look on her face, just before Jocunda Sykes turned around and loudly announced, "We'll be having a short race among those of you who have shown to be experienced flyers. I'll call on the names of those chosen to participate. The rest of you will come down – you just have to lean forward slightly on your brooms, for that. Fifty points will be awarded to the winner!"
Excited and eager murmurs broke among the students, as Jocunda's gaze slowly swept through all of them, as she began calling, "Miss Prewett, Mr. Black – not you, boy." Orion did look mightily relieved at that, as she added, "Alphard Black, I meant. Mr. Riddle - Mr. Harry Riddle, that is." The witch let out a gusty sigh, clearly a bit exasperated at having several students with same surnames. "Mr. Lestrange, Miss Carrow, Miss Abbot, Mr. Wright, and Mr. Longbottom."
She then gestured at the air above her. "Come and form a line here. The rest of you, come down and dismount from your brooms."
They all did so, though Harry took a moment, since Tom came to hover at his side and whispered sharply, "Is your arm hurting?"
"No," lied Harry smoothly, since it was throbbing painfully, already exerted too much, yet, obviously, he wasn't going to tell his brother that.
Tom didn't look as if he entirely believed him, but in the next second he smirked at him. "Then go for it. Win."
Harry shot him a surprised look, not having expected that.
Was it for the points? No, it was for more than that, he realized when he saw the calculating expression on Tom's face as his brother's gaze darted from Dorea Black to Alphard and Orion – precisely who had explained the girl's motives for being there.
Harry then understood Tom's reasons, though he himself wasn't quite sure if he agreed with them.
The next moment he shook his head, and beamed a smile at Tom, before he shot forward towards the starting line all the others had formed.
He would be doing it for his own reasons and nothing else. He wanted to fly as free as a bird, he wanted to experience that sensation again which he had felt for a very brief moment when he had pushed off the ground. The rest didn't matter much to him, at present.
"Mr. McLaggen!" suddenly snapped the Flying Instructor briskly. "I didn't call your name, did I?"
Harry blinked, seeing that, indeed, the boy had aligned himself with them – the only one of those who hadn't been called who was still up in the air.
"Well, you obviously made a mistake," proclaimed Tiberius McLaggen pompously, puffing out his chest. "I've been flying for ages! All my family members are excellent flyers-"
"I'm not letting you fly, much less participate in a race, until you heed my advice and learn how to grip your broom correctly and how to properly sit on it!" barked Jocunda Sykes irritably. "Now come down right this instant, before I serve you with detention with Apollyon Pringle and that nasty bird of his!"
The threat of being subjected to the sadistic Caretaker of the castle and to the vicious pecks of Rascal the Corvus, did seem to do the trick, since McLaggen quickly landed on the ground the very next second, even if he looked very resentful. Olive Hornby, though, was quick to solicitously comfort him, and that seemed to soothe the boy's wounded, overlarge ego.
"Now, it will only be one lap around the Quidditch field. At the blow of my whistle!"
It sounded three seconds later and they all shot forward, zooming above the heads of all the other students, and an exhilarated cry burst out from Harry.
He soared with joy as he sped forward, his eyes watering behind his glasses, his messy hair flattening back on his head, his robes flapping violently, his fingers freezing in the cold, his injured left arm painfully throbbing with the strain, yet he didn't think he had ever felt such happiness in his life.
He didn't even feel irritated with his broom, which tried now and then to willfully veer to the right, or which sometimes vibrated dangerously, as if about to sputter off and stop working, or which jolted with an abrupt burst of speed to then dwindled back as if its energy was suddenly ebbing away.
All the others had just the very same ancient model and they were having problems of their own. He could particularly hear Neron Lestrange hissing and snarling at his.
But as they flew by the three towering, golden hoops at one end of the pitch, it was already clear who amongst them were the better flyers.
Capricia Carrow was lagging far behind, along with the Hufflepuff girl, Astrid Abbot, and the Ravenclaw, Wenceslas Wright.
The Gryffindors, Felicity Prewett and Algie Longbottom, were clearly very good, but they were a few feet behind. The race was now headed by Alphard Black, Neron Lestrange, and Harry.
Indeed, from the corner of his eyes, Harry even saw Alphard's surprised expression as the boy looked at him. Though in the next moment, Alphard was grinning, apparently quite proud and pleased with Harry's unsuspected ability. On the other hand, Lestrange looked furious as he shot Harry very dark glares.
Just as they were halfway around the lap, about to reach the three hoops at the other end of the field, someone suddenly rammed into him, like a rampaging bull.
Harry let out a shocked cry of pain since they had smashed right into his injured left arm, and his broom dangerously veered to the right with the force of the impact, bucking wildly and nearly unseating him.
He careened sharply, spinning out of control, and he gasped when he saw he was about to crash against the stands.
"Lestrange, you bastard!" he distantly heard Algie Longbottom roaring with fury, while Felicity Prewett cried out "Harry!" with alarm and dismay.
Harry sharply pulled the handle of his broom upwards with all his might, gritting his teeth with the effort and employing every drop of strength, will, and determination, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.
He avoided colliding against the stands by a mere inch, turning upside down to dodge them, and then shot forwards with a burst of speed as he managed to turn himself up again. He appeared right behind Algie and Felicity but soon zipped past them.
"Go Harry!" shouted Felicity, letting out a happy laugh as he dashed by her.
Harry pelted forwards, starting to reach Neron Lestrange and Alphard Black, and his green eyes narrowed angrily. If Lestrange wasn't going to compete fairly, he saw no reason to stick to the implicit rules either.
He kept his right hand firmly clutching his broom's handle, and used his injured left arm, now blazing with piercing pain after the hit, to grasp his wand from his robes' pocket.
He certainly wouldn't attack Lestrange physically, as the boy had done, it would be too obvious. No, it had to be something subtle and that no one would notice or could accuse him of.
Harry grinned as the idea struck him. Well, he wasn't at the top of his year in Charms for nothing. And he remembered that very neat, useful spell he had been studying from one of the Charms books that he had taken from the library. It was perfect.
Surreptitiously, he aimed his wand at Neron Lestrange from the folds of his robes, and then whispered, "Confundus!"
In the next instant, the nasty Slytherin blinked, looking dumbly dazed, and then started precariously zigzagging like a disoriented bee.
In a few moments, even Felicity and Algie had passed him by, leaving Lestrange behind.
Suddenly, as he quickly stuffed his wand back into his pocket, he heard a bout of chortles and Harry snapped his head around, to see Alphard Black widely grinning at him over a shoulder. They were the only two who headed the race now, though Black was still a couple of feet ahead of him.
The boy winked, as he said loudly enough to be only heard by Harry, "I won't tell!" Then he added with a cheerful yet also challenging tone of voice, "It's between you and I, now. Let's see what you've got!"
The boy burst forth and Harry swiftly followed, clenching his jaw as he wrapped both his hands tighter around the handle, his knees clamping firmly on his broomstick whilst he completely leaned forward, his body flattening along the broom. His new posture, performed out of sheer instincts, helped much, since the broom apparently took it as some sort of command, and it shot forward like a bullet.
Harry let out a cry of thrilled joy as he gained distance, soon coming to be head to head with Alphard Black, who was wildly grinning.
They both saw that they were reaching the finishing line. At some point, Jocunda Sykes had evidently cast a spell, since there was a glowing, long red tape floating in midair, high above the heads of all the others who had been watching the race and were now loudly shouting, hooting, and cheering.
Both boys put all their efforts in it, panting and rushing forth at breakneck speed. In the next blink of the eye, Harry felt something pressing against his chest, and he stared down, seeing the tape plastered across his torso, its long ends flapping in the air behind him at his sides.
Harry beamed triumphantly as the cries of the students reached his ears.
"That was fantastic!"
"Amazing – best race I've ever watched!"
"He won by a full head!"
"Did you see how quickly he gained back first position after Lestrange knocked him to a side!"
"Never seen someone flying like that!"
"Fifty points to Slytherin!" boomed Jocunda Sykes, looking ecstatic, as Harry flew down to the ground and dismounted off his broom. "Very well done, indeed, Mr. Riddle!"
Harry grinned, his high spirits not even dampened by his housemates' reactions. The Slytherins weren't cheering him, they all looked rather sour. Well, except Tom, of course, who looked satisfied, and annoyingly enough, Malfoy, who was merely observing him.
Alphard Black, for his part, didn't look angry for having lost, but he had a rather odd, pinched expression on his face, as if he was constipated and had to dash to the toilets. Harry realized, in the next second, that the boy had such a weird expression on his face because Alphard was actually doing his best to suppress a grin.
Harry frowned at him, shook his head, and then glanced away. Really, the boy was impossible. Alphard and his wishes for a 'secret friendship', and all his attempts at endearing himself to Harry, still angered and frustrated him to no end.
Several long moments later, the other participants of the race started to land. Neron Lestrange still looked a bit affected, given that he was uncharacteristically silent, with a dumb expression on his face instead of being in a towering rage, as he usually was. Capricia Carrow, though, looked fit to be spitting with fury at Harry having won.
"Well, that's all for now," said Miss Sykes, clapping her hands together. "The lesson is over! Leave your brooms on the ground, I'll take care of them. Off you go!"
It was then, as they all started to leave and Sykes gestured at him to remain behind, that he overheard a bit of the Slytherins' conversation as they made their way towards one of the exits of the Quidditch pitch.
Thaddeus Avery was snarling angrily, "Surely your aunt wouldn't dare-"
"Of course she won't," retorted Orion Black indignantly. "He's still nothing but a mudblood…"
Their voices dimmed with the distance, and Harry spun around, his green eyes wide and alarmed. Indeed, he finally caught sight of Dorea Black again, standing with Dolohov next to the Flying Instructor.
The Slytherin girl was piercing him with glimmering grey eyes, her lips curved upwards in a most ominous way. It made Harry shudder.
Sykes beckoned him again, now impatiently.
Very warily and reluctantly, Harry approached the three of them, dragging his feet.
"Right, I'll leave you to it, then," said Jocunda Sykes brightly, as she flicked her wand and all the brooms rose into the air. She jauntily took off without another word, a line of floating brooms trailing after her.
Harry glanced around him, fretfully. They were all alone now. Tom hadn't even remained behind, the bastard. Clearly he had done that intentionally, clearly his brother knew what would happen and wanted it.
He sighed and turned back to stare at Dorea Black. She smirked at him, her expression much like that of self-satisfied, gloating cat that had unexpectedly cornered a surprisingly juicy mouse.
Suddenly, she whipped out her wand, quickly flicking it as she muttered something under her breath. A leather ball materialized the next second, and abruptly, she hurled it at him.
Without a thought, automatically, Harry instantly caught it with one hand.
"Toss it back!" snapped Dorea briskly.
Blinking, Harry did so, right into the girl's hands. Dorea widely smirked, her grey eyes sparkling gleefully.
"Very fast reflexes and a good aim as well!" she declared triumphantly. She cocked her head to a side as she inspected him, her gaze travelling along his figure. "You'd make a good Seeker too, actually." She then shook her head. "But it's a Chaser I need."
Harry crossed his arms over his small chest, shooting her a rebellious look. "Do you?"
Dorea's grey eyes narrowed, and then she seemed to decide to be candidly honest with him, as she stated flatly, "Look, I need a Chaser for next year. I'm a Chaser myself, you see, but I'll need to replace the other two. Danila Donahue, one of my Chasers, is in seventh year, so I'm planning to substitute her with my nephew Alphard when she leaves Hogwarts – he's quite good, as you have already seen."
She threaded a hand through her long, wavy hair, as she then added with much frustrated irritation, "My other Chaser, Morticia Montague, was excellent – that is, until she took a nasty fall, last year during the first match against Gryffindor." She rolled her eyes with exasperation. "She broke her spine and now she's too afraid-"
"She broke her spine?" choked out Harry, his green eyes wide, horrorstruck.
Dorea blinked at him and then loudly scoffed. "Miss Nightingale fixed her in a jiffy, Riddle! There was nothing to fear." She snorted with disgust. "But after that, Morticia has never flown quite as well as before – prefers to keep herself safe now, rather than do risky maneuvers for the sake of the Team, selfish bint!"
She shook her head angrily. "During this year's tryouts, though, she was still better than the other candidates, so I had no choice but to keep her. But I will get rid of her next year!" She pinned Harry with a skewering, hard gaze. "I want to replace her with you, actually. You are the kind of Chaser that I want for the Team – small, lithe, fast, and a reckless, fearless flyer, from what I saw during the race. And you clearly have no problem with feeling pain, taking brutal hits, or playing rough, given that you recovered quite easily when Lestrange smashed into you."
Dorea paused and then an expression of glorious satisfaction spread on her beautiful face, as she disclosed with a smug tone of voice, "So I'm going to train you, Riddle, during this whole year – your arms and legs are too thin, but I'll make you exercise and develop lean muscles on them, don't worry about that. And by this time next year, you'll be superb! The Slytherins will have no other choice but to grudgingly accept you into the Team, even if they hate you for being a muggleborn. We'll be keeping your training a secret until then, of course, so we'll be meeting every Sunday at six in the morning-"
"I'm not doing it," bit out Harry, shooting her a mutinous look.
Dorea blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
Harry crossed his arms over his small chest once more, his expression surly. "Why should I play for those who despise me?"
The girl's grey eyes narrowed to slits, as she spat incensed, "You're a natural on the broom, Riddle! You belong in the air, you silly boy, and I'm not letting your abilities go to waste! Not when I know that with Alphard and you in my team I'll finally be able to thoroughly beat the Gryffindor Captain. He's stolen the Quidditch Cup from me these last few years, and finally I can make him rue the day he dared challenge me!"
Dorea's eyes gleamed most exultantly as she said this, her lips widely curving into some sort of half-dreamy, half-vindictive smile.
Then she took a step towards Harry, her voice lowering, as she pointed out tartly, "And I saw your face when you flew – you looked wildly happy, you little snot, or do you deny it?"
"I don't," said Harry grumpily, then he shook his head, "but still-"
"Still nothing!" snapped Dorea impatiently. Her light grey eyes glinted suddenly, as if remembering a good point, and she said very softly, "And you might want to consider, that if you become the excellent Quidditch player I fully believe you are capable of being, our housemates will come to have some respect for you."
The moment Harry opened his mouth to retort, the girl swiftly raised up a hand, as she added crisply, "Oh, it won't happen overnight, and they'll still hate you for being a muggleborn, but Slytherins appreciate outstanding talent, Riddle – and you clearly have that, on a broom. And you if help Slytherin House win the Quidditch Cup, and show that you are a very valuable asset to the Team-" she widely smirked at him "-then they'll stop harassing, attacking, and bullying you, Riddle, because they wouldn't want to harm one of their Chasers. Indeed, they wouldn't sabotage their own team's chances of winning matches. Do you see what I'm saying?"
"Yes," conceded Harry peevishly, that was no revelation to him.
Indeed, it was the first thing that had crossed his mind when he had seen that Tom had left him behind, alone, to deal with Dorea Black. What the girl had just said, he knew, was what his brother had instantly realized and considered. Obviously, that was why Tom had wanted him to participate in the race, after he had heard Orion and Alphard's remarks about Dorea's motives for observing their Flying Lesson.
Dorea's light grey eyes narrowed to slits, clearly not satisfied with the tone of voice in which he had replied.
"Given all the reasons I've given you," she demanded, looking angrily vexed and incredulous, "you still refuse?"
Harry took in a heavy, weary gust of breath, as he carded his fingers through his locks of messy black hair. He eyed her intently, and said shortly, "Fine, I'll agree to be trained by you." He pinned her with narrowed green eyes, as he added firmly, "But if, and the moment, I stop enjoy it and having fun, the deal's off." He shot her a dour look. "I couldn't care less about helping my housemates win the blasted Quidditch Cup. They've made me miserable. I'm agreeing to this for myself."
"Fair enough," said Dorea gravely, giving him a considering look. Then she smirked, in a very self-satisfied manner, and gestured at him and Dolohov. "Come, let's leave the pitch. I'll show you where I'll be training you on Sundays. It's a vast stretch of lawn at the other side of the Black Lake, a spot that can't be seen from the castle – perfect to keep our practices a secret. The hour will help in that too, of course, since we'll be there at the crack of dawn."
Harry groaned at that, which was echoed precisely at the same time by the enormous, muscled third-year boy who had remained silent the whole while, like a mute protector standing and towering behind Dorea.
"Oh, yes, I forgot," Dorea said when Harry and the other boy glanced at each other when they had groaned at the same time. "Harry Riddle, formally meet Antonin Dolohov – Slytherin's Keeper."
The huge older boy now shot him a very nasty, malevolent glare, full of contempt and jealous bitterness too, it seemed, but the expression vanished the next second when Dorea slapped Dolohov up the head, as she snapped, "I'll have none of that between my players! You know how I value teamwork, and that requires respect, Antonin, both ways!"
Dolohov merely grunted, whether it was from reluctant understanding and acceptance or a complain and tacit rejection of her words, it was impossible to know.
Clearly unperturbed by this, Dorea Black carried on blithely, "And you know I'm giving you extra training because you've become a lazy lummox, Antonin. Furthermore, since you're the Keeper and need to practice your goalie skills against more than one Chaser, having Riddle training with us is very convenient. And he, of course, needs to practice with a Keeper and another Chaser too, so it works perfectly all around."
The moment they were out of the Quidditch pitch and started making their way towards the castle, Dorea pointed a finger towards the distance. "See the bridge that goes to Hogsmeade?"
Harry gazed in that direction. Indeed, very far away, there was a very tall and narrow wooden bridge, perched very high across one end of the Black Lake.
"Over that side of the shore, there's a large clearing – that's where we'll be training." Dorea shot him a glance, as she added curtly, "And you'll have to get a broom of your own, Riddle. I'm not having you practicing with the school brooms – they're useless. And you'll need an excellent broom for when you're part of the Team, so I suggest you owl-order one from Quality Quidditch Supplies-"
"I can't," muttered Harry grimly, his face paling.
Dorea halted in her tracks and fully turned around to face him. They were mere feet away from the immense oak doors of Hogwarts' entrance.
She skewered him with her gaze and then glanced at Dolohov, as she said shortly, "Leave us, Antonin. I want a word in private with him."
Dolohov didn't look at all pleased with this, he was frowning and scowling, but Dorea gave him such a dark, vexed look, that the enormous boy soon obeyed, only shooting Harry one last glower.
The moment they were alone, Dorea turned back to Harry, as she said slowly, "Lestrange has been saying that you and your twin don't seem to have much money – that at night, you don strange, threadbare sleepwear. Your muggle parents are poor then?"
Harry snorted at that, but then clenched his jaw and remained silent.
"Look, Riddle," snapped the fifth-year girl impatiently. "I need to know-"
"No, I don't have money enough to buy a broom," bit out Harry dourly, then he crossed his arms over his small chest, and added shortly, "And I can't have a broom, either, can I? My Hogwarts' letter said that first-years aren't allowed-"
"Why do you think I'm going to be training you on Sundays at six in the morning, at the most remote corner of Hogwarts' grounds?" said Dorea irritably. "So that no one sees you using a broom, Riddle!" She waved a hand dismissively. "Granted, I also want to keep your training a secret because I don't want to put up with our housemates' furious complains of why I'm training a muggleborn. But the point is that you need a good broom…"
She trailed off, musingly taping a finger on her chin. "Alphie got the new Comet 180 for his birthday, and it's a marvel. It's back at home…" Her grey eyes brightened. "Right, I'll tell him to write to Pollux and ask to have his broom sent to him – shrunken, of course, so that no one realizes what it is…"
"I'm not asking Black to lend me his broom," gritted out Harry incensed. "I would owe him for that, and he might use it as an excuse to-"
He broke off and clamped his mouth shut, glancing away.
Dorea's light grey eyes narrowed, and she suddenly took a step towards him, as she hissed out, "He'll use it as an excuse to make you be his friend – is that what you were going to say?"
Harry's head snapped around, to stare at her in surprise.
The girl scoffed. "What – you thought I didn't know what my nephew has been up to?" Dorea then pinned him with her gaze. "Besides my brother Pollux, Alphard is my only other relative that I actually like, and I'm in his confidence. He told me all about how he met you in Diagon Alley, and how he's been trying to be your friend-"
"Friends in secret!" snapped Harry hotly, glowering at her.
"You foolish little boy!" bit out Dorea, her eyes flashing angrily. "Pollux would disown his son in a second if he heard that Alphard was cavorting with a 'mudblood'! Is that what you want – for Alphard to be left without his inheritance, without a name, without a family!"
Startled, Harry blanched, his mouth hanging open, before he stammered, "No – but –"
"It's all the same with your kind," snapped Dorea with irritation. "You muggleborns don't have the slightest clue, and you go around demanding to be treated as equals without even stopping to consider how things are for us! Alphard is risking a lot by just trying to be your 'secret friend', and it's still not enough, in your opinion!"
Harry frowned, and remained silent.
"For some unfathomable reason," carried on Dorea in a sharp tone of voice, advancing on him, "my nephew likes you and is interested in you. And I want to see him happy for once in his life." She flicked her hair to one side, with frustration, as she added, "He's always been the odd one out, and doesn't really have friends of his own. His cousin Orion has always been Abraxas Malfoy's closest friend, along with Lestrange, and doesn't pay much attention to Alphie, and my nephew's other cousins and siblings are older and have their own little cliques of friends."
Harry's expression slowly softened as he considered all her words.
Dorea paused, to then pierce him with her light grey eyes. "Alphard is simply different than all of them – better, in my opinion." Her eyes narrowed. "But he's still a Black, and when a Black does you the great honor of extending a hand in friendship, no matter the conditions attached to it, you should have the good sense of accepting and bask in the great compliment that is being bestowed upon you and in the fruits that such a friendship will bear."
Harry scowled for a moment, her proclamation making him feel a bit insulted and indignant at first, but then gazed back at her, pensively, as he mulled about the whole matter.
"So you will give him a chance," demanded Dorea, drilling her gaze into him, "won't you?"
"Maybe…" muttered Harry slowly, hesitantly. Then he let out a weary sigh. "Fine, yes."
"Good," said Dorea shortly. "So that's settled. And I'll tell Alphie about the broom and he'll be more than happy to lend it to you."
And with that, she marched off into the castle.
When Harry reached the dungeons and slipped into the common room, he caught sight of Dorea and Alphard seated together in one shadowy corner. They were whispering among themselves, and then Alphard noticed him and shot him a beaming grin.
Harry stared for a moment, seeing the boy's joyous expression making him feel rather guilty for having rejected him all that time. Then he felt extremely awkward, not knowing quite how to respond, and merely gave him some sort of forced, uncomfortable smile – which he knew had to look pained and weird.
Then he just glanced away and hurried off to the dormitories. As he had expected, he found Tom waiting for him.
No sooner had Harry crossed the threshold, that his brother demanded, "Did Dorea Black-"
"Yes," breathed out Harry, plopping himself down on his bed.
He winced and gently clutched his throbbing left arm. While he took the salve and a new roll of bandages from his nightstand, he told Tom what had happened. He left out the part regarding Alphard, though, knowing his brother wouldn't be particularly thrilled about that.
"Perfect," said Tom smirking, the moment Harry ended the narration. He looked extremely pleased with the situation. "It's just what I wanted."
His brother was so content, in fact, that he gently tended to Harry's injured forearm again, helping him peel off the bandages.
Harry paled and cringed when he saw the state of his arm. The charred skin was no longer just red, but rather bubbly with an ugly puce color. The first application of the salve had cured the boils, since they had vanished, but it was clear that the strain of having used his arm when flying –and being hit by Lestrange- had also worsened the burned parts.
At the sight, Tom clicked his tongue in a chiding manner, but evidently his good mood wasn't dampened.
He applied the salve on Harry's arm again, very tenderly, as he intoned placidly, "I still think Quidditch is nothing but a waste of time, but you becoming part of the team, and thus gaining some respect, as Dorea Black said to you, will work quite well with my plan. Even if it will only happen next year."
He shot Harry a very smug smirk, as if he had been the mastermind behind it all, and Dorea and Harry had just been the puppets that had danced when he had pulled the strings.
Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yes, Tom, I did it all for you and your great, magnificent 'plan'." Then he glowered, and grumbled darkly, "Whatever it is. If you just told me-"
"Not yet," tutted Tom, undaunted by Harry's miffed glare. He finished bandaging Harry's forearm, and then moved to his desk, grabbing his schoolbag.
Harry frowned at him. "Where are you going? I thought we could work on our essays for-"
"Not a chance," said Tom coolly, as he began stuffing his schoolbag with quills, inkbottles, and parchments. "I'm off to the library." He glanced at Harry, seeing his annoyed look, and added loftily, "I'm very busy, little brother. I'm working on many things, as you know-"
"I don't know," snapped Harry crossly, scowling at him.
"You know the important parts," pointed out Tom nonchalantly, arching an eyebrow at him. "You know what I'm researching, don't you? That's good enough. When I discover something important, I'll let you know."
And with that, he left the room, leaving Harry behind, alone and sulking.
Harry stood up and kicked his trunk in anger, then he winced and dearly regretted it when his big toe throbbed. But really, he wasn't at all happy with his brother. He dearly missed him.
They had always spent all their time together, except those three months long ago when Tom had been furious with him and hadn't spared him a word. But this was different, because Harry hadn't done anything wrong and his brother was ditching him -for books!
Harry brooded sullenly, and then he became angered with himself and the self-pity party he was throwing, and sprung to his feet again.
Fine, then, he would go and spend some time with the Prewetts, and then he would tell Tom all about it, bubbling with cheerfulness, and he'll watch how his brother glowered and got all nasty with jealously, and Harry will vindictively snigger in his mind all the while.
That decided, now in a bright good mood, Harry picked up his school things and dashed out of the room, soon making his way to Gryffindor Tower.
Something was up with the red and gold House, Harry saw as soon as he climbed through the portrait hole behind the Fat Lady, after giving her that week's password – the twins did always keep him up to date with that.
He caught sight of the twins, who were playing Exploding Snaps with Algie Longbottom, and made a beeline for them.
"Oh, good, you came!" said Felicity happily as Harry took a seat among them. She shot him a speculative glance. "I thought you wouldn't. You said you would do your Potions homework with your brother, this evening."
"He was busy," said Harry a bit grumpily. Then he brightened. "I brought my History of Magic book, though. Binns gave you the same homework as us, didn't he? I thought we could work on that together, even if we don't share the same class."
"Yes," groaned Felix mournfully. "The three-foot essay about the Hag Convention of 1419 – who cares about that, I ask you!"
Algie Longbottom snorted, just as a card spontaneously exploded and nearly scorched his fingers. Felix whooped in victory at that.
Felicity rolled her eyes at them, and then turned to Harry, smiling widely. "Good idea, Harry. We should get started with the essay as soon as possible. It's due in three days."
Harry nodded as they both started getting out their books, parchments, and quills.
He and Felicity worked together on their essays, and after nearly two torturous, long hours, they finished.
It was then when Harry paid attention again to the rest of the Gryffindors, many of who were still congregated together in the middle of the common room, speaking quickly and looking very animated.
"So, what's going on?" he finally asked as he sharpened his quill's tip with Felicity's penknife, pointedly looking at the older Gryffindors so that she realized what he meant.
"Oh, All Hallow's Eve is in two weeks, you know," said Felicity excitedly. She pointed at a girl amongst the crowd. "Amanda Morninglory is a halfblood. Her mother is an American muggle, and Amanda has been telling us all about how they celebrate Hallow's Eve over there."
"Apparently, the American muggles," piped in Felix with a thrilled expression on his face, who had left the Exploding Snaps to play a game of chess with Longbottom, "get dressed up in wacky costumes or scary ones, and paint their faces and whatnot, and go around doing something called 'Trick or Treat', asking for candies…"
"And we all thought it was a great, fun idea!" continued Felicity, grinning widely. "So now they're planning the costume party! The older Gryffindors will get butterbeer, sweets, and candies from Hogsmeade, since the first outing is exactly on the weekend before Hallow's Eve."
"We're inviting the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs too," pointed out Algie Longbottom, then pausing to give instructions to a white knight to move across the chessboard. His expression then turned pleased and proud, as he added, "We have already told them and plenty agreed to come!"
"Oh!" Harry gazed at the three of them with wide, exhilarated eyes, as he said very excitedly, "And can I come too, then? I've never been to a costume party!"
Algie Longbottom looked a bit hesitant at that, and remained silent, which made Harry frown at him, just as Felix piped in, "Sure you can – you're our friend!"
"But he's also a Slytherin," said Algie quietly, shooting Harry an apologetic glance.
Felicity scoffed. "Don't be silly, Algie. The other Gryffindors won't mind."
"You should ask them, first," retorted Algie firmly, "before raising Harry's hopes."
Felicity frowned at the boy, before she said curtly, "Fine, I will then." And without any further ado, she sprung to her feet and called out, "Oi, you lot! Can Harry attend the party?"
The bunch of older Gryffindors abruptly fell silent, turning around to look at the girl, some frowning, others blinking, and several scowling.
"Harry who?" one of them said.
"Harry Riddle," replied Felicity with some exasperation, as she gestured at Harry.
All their gazes turned to him, and Harry forced himself to calmly stare back at them, though he would have rather preferred that Felicity wouldn't have gone about it in such a way.
It didn't escape his notice how the expressions of many of the Gryffindor's faces changed when they saw his green and silver tie and scarf.
"He's a Slytherin!" someone burst out, scandalized.
Many voices then rose together at the same time.
"He's that muggleborn twin!"
"Ah, yes, the one Muriel has been protecting!"
Harry nearly let out a loud, disdainful scoff at that, but wisely kept silent.
"But we can't have a Slytherin at the party!"
"He's been in our common room plenty of times, I've told Muriel that she shouldn't allow it-"
"The Prewetts have been giving him our passwords, I've heard…"
"If he comes, then the other Slytherins might try and do the same and they'll ruin everything!"
"No, they won't!" snapped Felicity, scowling at them. "Most Slytherins are dark purebloods, so they'll be celebrating Samhain that night. And I know for a fact that Headmaster Dippet has always allowed them to leave the castle and spend that night with their families, so Harry will be all alone!"
Harry shot her a puzzled look, and he saw that he wasn't the only one. There were many Gryffindors who clearly didn't know about this 'Samhain' celebration of the dark purebloods, since they were gazing confusedly at Felicity. Only a very few were nodding.
"It doesn't change the fact that he's a Slytherin!" bit out a sixth-year boy, one that Harry recognized as being one of those who always grumbled and shot him dark looks when he was in their common room. "And many of us don't appreciate that you've been giving him the password for the Fat Lady!"
"Very true!" interjected someone else, very gruffly. "Muggleborn or not, he's still a Slytherin, and one of these days he'll tell his housemates our password so that they treat him better, and the slimy snakes will creep into our common room and dorms at night, and who knows what they'll do to us!"
"They'll use the Dark Arts!" someone gasped in alarm, as if the thought had just struck them. "When we're asleep!"
"… hex us, they will, while we're in our beds, defenseless, slimy snakes that they are, and they'll do all sort of nasty, dark things, and destroy our common room, at the very least!"
"Harry would never give them our password!" roared Felix Prewett, jumping to his feet and standing by Felicity's side, who had began yelling back at the other Gryffindors.
It all took a plunge for the worse, after that, with only the twins defending him while most of the other Gryffindors seemed to get even more wind under their sails, voicing all sorts of ridiculous things about what Harry was secretly plotting with his housemates, or that he was a spy and they had suspected all along, or that the Slytherins would kill them all with evil Dark Magic, if given half a chance, and whatnot.
In the midst of the chaos, more Gryffindors abruptly entered the common room, sweaty and dirty, their distinctive apparel indicating that they were the Quidditch players of the Gryffindor Team, who apparently had had a taxing, night training session.
Most of them instantly wanted to know what all the commotion was about and soon got mixed into the shouts and yells, as well.
At that, Harry finally stuffed his things into this schoolbag, very sullenly, and then quietly slipped out.
He had known, of course, after his experience with Muriel Prewett, that the Gryffindors were not the knights in shinning armor they so liked to proclaim they were. He had known that, at some point, their 'good will' would ran out and something like this would happen.
Though, he hadn't expected it would be so soon, or just precisely when he was feeling so downcast and lonely, missing his brother's company so much.
Harry was panting, as he ran along the labyrinthine corridors of the dungeons, having just evaded Rascal the Corvus by mere seconds.
When he had been making his way to the lower levels of the castle, he had heard the ominous flapping of wings, along with the 'click, clack', clanking sound of Apollyon Pringle's wooden leg hitting the stone floors.
A quick Tempus Charm had made him realize it was way past curfew time, and alarmed, he had dashed through the corridors.
So far, he had been fortunate enough as to have never encountered the Caretaker and his nasty pet during their rounds. But he had seen, a couple of times, Neron Lestrange and Thaddeus Avery with faces and hands covered in bleeding, small wounds caused by Rascal's beak, and he certainly didn't want to suffer the same.
Nearly out of breath, Harry was swiftly reaching the entrance to Slytherin House, when he caught sight of something very strange.
Just a few feet away, right in front the blank expanse of wall that led to the Slytherin common room, there was some sort of blurry, glowing thing – it looked like a figure, crouching, glowing with a sort of watery mantle of golden and white magic. And it was speaking!
"No, that didn't work - what were the bloody words then?" the figure was grousing under its breath, in a suffering tone of voice. "Really, a password in Croatian, how am I expected to remember that! She just likes to make things difficult for me-"
Harry skidded to a halt, and the thing swiftly turned around towards him and went very still and silent.
Alarmed, wondering what kind of amorphous, dangerous creature could have slipped inside the castle, Harry instantly whipped out his wand, straightly aiming it, and snapped, "I heard you speaking, you thing! Go away before I scream and get everyone out here-"
"You thing?" the figure echoed, letting out a very amused laugh.
Harry yelped in horror and jumped a step back, when a bodiless hand suddenly appeared, floating in mid-air.
Then he blinked, and gaped, when the hand grasped the mantle of golden and white magic and pulled it to a side. A tall boy suddenly appeared, as if having emerged from underneath it.
Harry stared, mouth hanging open, as the boy stuck the mantle of magic into a large pocket of his robes, only leaving a corner sticking out, which had a strange geometrical symbol that glowed in silver light.
He lost sight of it as the older boy shifted and stood there, gazing at him. Harry observed him in return.
The boy was tall, broad shouldered, and very good looking, with windswept dark hair and hazel eyes. But what caught his attention the most, was what the boy was wearing: a crimson and golden Quidditch uniform with mud splattered all over it, with leather pads on shoulders, elbows, and knees. The golden badge displaying a large 'C', pinned on the right side of the chest, was unmistakable too.
The boy was the Captain of the Gryffindor Team! Harry instantly became very suspicious and on guard.
It couldn't mean anything good if the Gryffindor Captain was trying to break into the Slytherin common room! And he remembered clearly what Dorea Black had said about wanting to beat this Captain – evidently, she quite hated her rival.
"You look familiar," said the tall boy, cocking his head to a side. His hazel eyes brightened the next second in dawning realization. "Ah, yes! You're one of the twins - the muggleborn Slytherins, right? I've heard about you."
"Er…"
"I'm Potter," the older boy said, widely grinning as he stuck out a hand, "Charlus Potter."
Warily, Harry stared, but then shook the proffered hand, as he muttered, "Harry Riddle."
"Ah, yes, that's the name!" Potter beamed a charming smile. "Now, can you help me get inside?" He gestured at the blank wall.
Harry's green eyes narrowed, still holding his wand, though he had lowered it. "I don't think I should."
Potter chuckled as he slapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm not going to do anything to you little snakes!" A wide, joyful, and dashing smile spread on his face, lightening it up, as he winked at him. "Oh, no, I've got much more pleasurable business in hand. I have a date with the most beauteous, magnificent, delightful, bewitching girl in the school – a goddess! – the keeper of my heart, she is! You wouldn't want me to be late for that, would you?"
Harry's mouth hanged open, and he eyed him incredulously. "You've got a date – with a Slytherin girl?"
"Oh yes," Potter breathed out exultantly, his hazel eyes sparkling. "And I cannot wait to kiss her senseless as she deserves, naughty minx that she is! Giving me a password in Croatian, of all things!"
"Um…" Harry began hesitantly. "So you do know the password?"
Potter rolled his eyes. "I know what it means, but can't remember how it's said in Croatian, of course! Really, I don't know how you put up with it – having passwords in all sorts of impossible, strange languages."
Harry frowned, not quite knowing if to believe him or not. But then he stowed his wand away and compromised. "All right. If you correctly tell me what it means, then I'll believe you and let you in."
"Easy enough," said Potter, grinning, to then scoff and roll his eyes. "It means 'pride of the blood'."
Harry rubbed his brow. "Well, that's right. Come on, then." He gestured at him with a hand as he stood before the wall, and said very slowly, carefully enunciating the Croatian words, "Ponos u krvi."
It opened for them and Harry let out a relieved exhalation of breath.
It was no easy thing to learn the passwords by heart, but they all practiced saying them correctly for many hours, if that's what it took. No one wanted to end up like Thaddeus Avery, who had already spent five different nights sleeping in the corridors because he couldn't remember how the passwords were said in their foreign languages.
"Thank Merlin you got it right!" exhaled Potter behind him.
Harry, for his part, was grateful that the common room was empty. It was quite late and everyone was clearly already in their beds.
"Um, so…" trailed off Harry uncertainly, turning around to face the older boy. "I'll be going to sleep now. It was nice to meet you-"
"Oh, wait!" Potter rushed to him, and then stood there, scratching the back of his head. "Could you do me another favor? I don't want to get deeper into the lair and into 'forbidden territory', if you know what I mean - in case someone else bumps into me." He imploringly gazed down at Harry. "So could you go and tell my girl that I'm waiting for her here?"
"Alright," said Harry, releasing a heavy sigh. "Who is she?"
Potter grinned rakishly and winked at him. "She'll be the only one waiting awake in the fifth-year girls' dorm."
Harry nodded, left his schoolbag on a settee, and marched off towards the archway at the left end corner of the common room. He had just set a foot on the very first step of the spiral staircase that led downwards, when a yell of alarm rang loudly.
"DON'T!"
Just for a split second, in the time that it took Harry to snap his head around, startled, he saw Alphard Black at the threshold of the archway that led to the boys' dormitories. It had been him who had shouted, urgently, but it was too late.
The staircase under Harry's feet had swiftly morphed into a slide, and he instantly lost his balance and fell, landing on his back and shooting off, like a speeding bullet. He frantically flailed his arms and legs, trying to get a hold on something, but it was to no avail.
Harry spun and spun, going down the spiraling slide. He saw a blurry flash of three doors on the first subfloor, as he flew by, then another three doors in the next level, and he shouted in alarm when he didn't stop and continued sliding down at an alarming speed, and finally he was on the last level, which had only one door – that of the seventh-year girls' bedroom.
It was the last subfloor and the stairs-turned-slide ended there, but nothing sprouted up to halt his progress. Instead, he shot off from the very end of the slide, and was careening forth, not towards the door, though, that would have somewhat relieved him. He was flying towards the stone wall!
When he was about to brutally smash into the wall, he instinctually crossed his arms over his face. But just as he was about to crash into the hard stones, a gaping dark hole appeared, opening wide, like a gigantic mouth.
Harry got sucked into it, his body somersaulting, leaving him hanging upside down as he got yanked upwards in the darkness, as if he was shooting up inside some sort of huge tube or pipe.
And, suddenly, he was spat out, like a regurgitated thing, and he landed on his rump, sprawling on stone floors.
Pained, dizzy, wheezing, and utterly disoriented, he heard voices as if they were coming from a faraway distance.
"How was I supposed to imagine that Salazar Slytherin had cared about protecting the virtue of girls!"
"Of course he cared, Charlus! Given his beliefs and ideals, Slytherin had even more reason than the other Founders to enchant the girls' stairs so that boys couldn't get in their dormitories!"
The sound of shoes scuffing on floors, and then grey eyes were peering at him, a helping hand offered.
"Are you alright?" inquired Alphard Black worriedly.
Harry could only dizzily blink at him, and groan. Everything ached. The only thing that consoled him was the fact that he had, thankfully, not landed on his injured arm. But still, that was little solace indeed.
All of it was very unfair, inwardly bemoaned Harry. He was having a very rough day. He simply shouldn't have gotten out of his bed that morning, he decided.
Everything was still very blurry, he then slowly realized. He numbly started patting his face with a hand, and finally found his eyeglasses precariously hanging from his left ear.
"What – where – " he wheezed, as he stuck his glasses back into their place.
Apparently, Alphard understood him, because the boy pointed at a fireplace. "You're back in the common room and you came shooting out of there."
The boy then carefully helped him up, and Harry let out a sound, a whimper mixed with a pained groan. His bum and back were killing him.
"Oh, allow me," said Potter, flicking his wand at Harry and muttering something.
The effect was instantaneous, all aches disappeared and his back seemed to get back to normal.
"I'm sorry about that," said Potter sheepishly. "I didn't know what the stairs would do."
Harry grumbled something unintelligible, and finally slowly stood up straight. He shot the older boy a very miffed glower, then.
Potter gave him a sort of apologetic grin, if such a thing was possible, and patted Harry on the back – at least it was gently.
Then the tall, older boy turned to Alphard. "So, can you get her for me, then? You said you had a way, since going down the stairs is clearly a No-No."
"Yes, I do," said Alphard, still holding Harry with a hand. Then he gave Potter a considering look, his grey eyes flickering towards the piece of sheer, silvery cloth that stuck out of the older boy's bulging pocket. "If you keep the promise you gave me this summer, that is."
Potter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you can have my Invisibility Cloak when I leave Hogwarts. But it's only a lending, mind you. I want it back the moment you finish your seventh year, because-"
"It's a Potter heirloom," piped in Alphard quickly. "Yes, I know, Charlus." He widely grinned. "You got yourself a deal, then."
Harry, all the while, had watched them in bemusement. Though at least he knew what was what he had seen; that golden and white mantle of magic. 'Invisibility Cloak' – not much explanation was needed to understand what it was and did.
Nevertheless, the discovery left him feeling quite astonished. He hadn't imagined that such things existed. Though he could certainly understand why Alphard would want it – oh, the possibilities - all the things that could be done with something like that!
Then, Alphard started to lead him towards one of the couches, and Harry simply allowed it, still feeling a bit winded.
As soon as Harry had sat down, Alphard turned around, flicked his wand and said something under his breath. A small blue bird shot from the boy's wand tip and then fluttered away quickly, flying through the archway of the girls' dormitories.
"She'll be up soon," said Alphard to Potter, as he sat down across from Harry, and then addressed him. "Are you feeling better?"
Harry nodded. "Yup, thanks."
As they all waited for Potter's mysterious girlfriend to make an appearance, Harry shot Alphard a puzzled glance. After what had happened, he no longer felt all that awkward around the boy, and he was a bit curious, so he asked quietly, "What were you doing up here?"
Alphard lopsidedly grinned at him. "Waiting for you, actually. All the others were in their beds - your twin too. And it was getting late."
"Oh." Harry blinked, not quite knowing what to say to that. Then he began hesitantly, "Um… I saw you and Dorea talking before… did she tell you-"
"She told me all about her conversation with you," said Alphard quietly, then he added nervous and vacillating, "She said you had agreed to be my… er… my friend?" He cast Harry a hopeful look. "Did you really?"
"Um, yeah," mumbled Harry, nodding, then he gave him a small, tentative smile.
Alphard grinned widely in return, his grey eyes shinning.
Their first stumbling foray into their new friendship was interrupted when a beautiful girl stepped into the common room, wearing a strappy, silvery nightgown with a silky white shawl draped over her slim shoulders.
"Dorea?" choked out Harry, having to blink twice just to be certain. He gaped.
The girl didn't pay much attention to either of them, her light grey eyes were fixed on Potter, who was wearing a silly, irredeemably besotted smile on his handsome face.
"You didn't even have the decency of changing after your Quidditch practice?" she said crisply, her light grey eyes narrowing as her gaze trailed up and down the tall boy. "You're mad if you think I'm going anywhere near you – you're filthy!"
"Oh, but my darling," enthused Potter in a playful, suggestive tone, "dirty and filthy is just the way you like me!"
Dorea snorted irreverently, then she waved a hand impatiently, as she said with exasperation, "Well, you'll have to do, just like that. What's the plan, then?"
Potter widely smiled as he bounded up to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. He ducked down and breathed into her ear, "You'll love it. I'm taking you to the Astronomy Tower tonight, and-"
"The Astronomy Tower, really?" she intoned flatly, giving him a very unimpressed look. "Just where everyone else goes?" She splayed a hand and gazed at her fingernails. "I might just have to find myself another beau. A more creative and resourceful one…"
She trailed off, leaving that hanging in the air.
"Don't count me off yet, my luv," murmured Potter, shooting her a wicked, rakish grin. "Just you wait and see what I've prepared. It will sweep you off your feet, it will – literally."
Dorea shot him an interested look at that, and then briefly inclined her head, as some sort of gesture implying permission.
Potter beamed, and quickly took out his Invisibility Cloak and draped it over them both.
Just as Harry saw the bulgy mantle of golden and white magic about to slip out of the common room, Dorea Black's head stuck out from the invisible folds, looking as if it was beheaded, dangling in mid-air, and the girl snapped, "Go to sleep, you two!"
And with that, the couple left, and Harry was still gaping.
In the next second, he whipped his head around to stare at Alphard, as he said astounded and incredulous, "They are together? But the things Dorea said to me about the 'Gryffindor Captain' – I thought she hated him!"
Alphard sniggered under his breath. "Oh, on the Quidditch field they're both fierce rivals – they love it that way."
Harry blinked, and then frowned, as he said slowly, "So all the nasty things your sister said to Dorea at the Welcoming Feast – all that was about Charlus Potter?"
"Yes," said Alphard, not looking amused anymore.
Harry certainly had loads of questions about that, but he was feeling quite tired after the long day, so he said hesitantly, "Um, we should call it a night and go to bed…" just as Alphard said excitedly, "Let's go to the kitchens for a midnight snack, the house-elves make a delicious-"
"Elves?" Harry breathed out, staring at him, astonished and excited. "The Elves are in the kitchens?"
Alphard blinked. "Of course! Where else would they be?" Then he broadly grinned at him. "I can show you where the kitchens are and how to get in – Charlus told me about it! And I've already been a couple of times. The house-elves make a scrumptious cup of hot chocolate with a side of scones. And I can tell you all about Dorea and Charlus. What do you say?"
"Sure!" piped Harry eagerly, all his tiredness vanishing at the thought of finally seeing the Elves!