Chapter 4. Racing Brooms
Next morning Harry's mood deteriorated still further. Lena was becoming increasingly revved up about the upcoming match, and could talk of nothing else, even at meals.
"Fox uses Nolde's diagrams for their training sessions," she announced in the accents of gloom.
Harry considered asking how she knew about it, but thought better of it.
"Figures," McLaggen said lazily. "The nerds probably use arithmany models to calculate likely snitch positions."
Harry wandered if someone like Ralf could actually pull that off.
"Van der Velde's flying the new Perseus," Lena glared at Harry, as if it was somehow his fault. "Mind you," she went on, "the girl could outfit the entire team from her pocket change."
"Then everyone would think that she bought her position, instead of earning it," Harry pointed out.
"Well, she'd have to prove them wrong, wouldn't she?" Lena huffed. "See to it that she won't, though," she added in a would-be teasing tone, Harry hated.
Asta Van der Velde was new to her team, having spent two years in reserve. She was a fellow émigré's offspring, her father having fled from Grindelwald's regime in the early 40s. The Van der Veldes were one of the Confederacy more prominent families, but unlike Julius they hadn't been troubled by Grindelwald initially. When they did eventually found themselves at outs with the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, it was far too late for them to make the kind of quiet unobtrusive exit Julius had managed. When a young Theo Van der Velde finally washed up on the Welsh shores, it was only as sole remnant of the once powerful and large family, his nearest kin eradicated, his wealth confiscated and his power broken. At the time Theo had no other recourse but to seek refuge with his distant relation's family. He did not, however, trespass on the Hagel-Pomprington hospitality for long.
Within a couple of years of his arrival the young wizard had patented what was essentially the magic equivalent of the famous Leica camera and founded a company that was still considered a monopolist in the field of magical photography equipment. Not long after that the erstwhile refugee branched out into publishing. Not being an avid reader, Harry had only a vague idea of the Velde Verlag market share, but he knew that most of the Hogwarts's textbooks were printed by Asta's father's publishing house.
Absently Harry marvelled at the Fates' insistence on squaring him off once again with a female Ravenclaw Seeker. Not that he harboured the same mawkish crush on Asta, as he had on Cho, Harry amended. Asta wasn't even pretty. She had almost painfully thin boyish figure, pale, angular face with deep seated, expressive hazel eyes. The unprepossessing brown hair was chopped into a very short bob with an uncompromisingly blunt fringe. That kind of look would be out of date even in the muggle world, Harry suspected, in the wizading one it seemed out of place. Her every day school robs tended to swallow her whole, but it all changed as soon as she mounted her vantage broom. Up in the air decked in the sapphire blue and brilliant bronze of Ravenclaw Asta transformed from an awkward coltish teenager into some elegant, exotic creature, dangerous, and paradoxically feminine. Not that Harry cared. Asta was civil enough with him, since it was the common knowledge that his family had helped her father through the thin years. Yet Harry had a distinct impression, that she resented the fact. After all, somewhat surprisingly for one with her family background, Asta was said to be very much into the whole blood purity thing.
The marauders arriving at the scene interrupted Harry's musing.
"What you were up to the whole night?" Lucretia demanded after taking one look at them. "You look like werewolves on a full moon's eve." Remus visibly flinched.
"Aww, Lu," Sirius flashed his trademark smirk her way, "don't you worry about it, we could always nap through the history of magic."
"Not if you drag Remus into your mischief," Lily pointed out. "He won't be able to lend you his notes, and nobody else will want to."
"Who says we drag him into anything," James grumbled.
"He looks as tired as you guys."
"He is sitting right here," Remus put in.
"Well, if they hadn't corrupted you yet, perhaps, you should stop by the hospital wing and get something for a head cold," Marlene McKinnon suggested. "You don't want to skip the match because of it."
"I am fine", Remus said unhappily.
"What it is with your, ladies, avid interest in our nocturnal activities?" Harry wanted to know.
"You better not have any before the match," Lena muttered.
"The captain wants you frustrated, Harry," Fabian winked spreading butter over his crumpet.
"Hey, whatever works."
"How did you fare with Flitwick?" Harry was genuinely curious.
"Not great," Gideon grimaced.
"Yes, the old codger says we've got to take an extra credit, if we want a pass to the Restricted Section."
"Mind you, it may yet come to that."
"But we won't give up so easily."
"Hey, are you coming with Colvert?"
If he wasn't miserable enough, Harry thought. Colvert managed to arrange the port-keys for the Friday evening, so that his students could watch a broadcast of the Yellow Submarine cartoon at his place. Having never seen it in either life, Harry rather looked forward to the experience, only for Lena to put her foot down and refuse to let him skip the last evening training session before the match on Saturday. Jessica, he knew, fared as badly with Fox.
"It's just as you say," he sighed, "the captain wants me frustrated."
Up in the air, as he finally faced Asta off, checking and blocking her moves experimentally, he realised that Lena's fixation on superior brooms was totally justified. It took him only a few trial moves to ascertain that he had little chance to win on speed alone. In fact, he realised, unless he could spot the Snitch well before Asta, Gryffs were toast.
The Quidditch commentary provided by a six year Ravenclaw Bartholomew 'Bambi' Lasker didn't help either. Not only was he as partisan as Lee Jordan had ever been, Bambi spent ages enumerating the Perseus-Sieg finer points.
"The Nimus models have always had certain instability of balance," Bambi pontificated, completely ignoring a synchronized beater attack on Harry. "It can sometimes result in a broomstick's excitability. See how Hagel moved just now? Jerkily is the kindest way to describe it, and he is a decent flyer too. Now compare it with the Sieg' elegant movements…" Harry zoned out.
Now that he thought of it, he was moving somewhat jerkily, he realised. He knew his trusty broom too well to attribute it to some imaginary flaw in design, though. What was going on? Hastily he whirled around to avoid another bludger, clearing the path for it to hit Asta.
"Careful there, Vee-dee-Vee," Bambi called out. "Did you just see how she went 0-to-40 acceleration in a couple of seconds?! Did you? That's the Sieg for you, guys, German for victory!"
"There was a goal, Lasker!" McGonagall reminded irritably.
"Oh, yeah right. Rivers scores. It's 40-10 to Gryffindor, ladies and gentlemen. Hey! Over there, Asta!"
Harry saw it first, the tiny glimmer of gold near Slytherin stands. He willed his Nimbus to fly as fast as possible when he felt his broom balked. Clinging to it for his dear life Harry was dimly aware of Bambi shouting excitedly, too preoccupied to pay attention. To his horror he felt more than saw, Asta whizzing by him in a blur of blue, and accelerated again. Suddenly, with a sickening cracking sound his broom snapped in two, and he was sent hurtling into the air. Before he could do anything or even form a coherent thought Harry felt himself slowing and floating in midair, like a muggle astronaut in zero gravity. Suddenly Asta materialised at his side.
"Hop up," she commanded, extending a hand. As Harry obeyed she issued an order to her captain to call for a time out. She must have abandoned the pursuit of the Snitch, to save his neck, Harry thought unhappily.
"Uh, thanks," he said, "I am in your debt."
"Hardly," was her curt answer. "Father and myself still owe your folks a few favours."
And you are keeping the score, aren't you, Harry thought, as he watched her self-satisfied smirk.
"Hagel, are you alright?"
"What happened?" Lena and Madame Hooch landed beside them.
Harry shrugged. He was somewhat miffed at Hooch, truth to be told. It was her responsibility to intervene in the case of emergency. She had been totally useless though, and now he was stuck with a life debt to the bloody Van der Velde heiress.
"What do you think did happen?!" McGonagall looked absolutely furious. "Someone must have sabotaged Hagel's broomstick. Professor Flitwick will make a forensic spell-check on the remnants," she added summoning what was left of the Nimbus. "Forty points to Revenclaw, miss Van der Velde."
Asta's expressive eyebrow disappeared behind her fringe.
"Shouldn't your Seeker's life merit at least fifty?" she asked sarcastically.
Lips compressed in disapproval McGonagall glared down at her and left them without a further word in order to talk to Flitwick.
"Right," Lena said assertively. "Harry, you'll have to take Rivers's broom, and he –"
"Hey, that's hardly fair," Harry interrupted.
"Don't be such Hufflepuff," Lena shot back irritably. "Do you want to chase after Van der Velde on a school broom?!"
Reluctantly Harry was forced to admit that that just wasn't feasible.
"You can ride my Comet," James suddenly voiced a suggestion. "What?" he shrugged innocently. "It's a decent broom."
"Question is: what's a first year doing with a broom at all?" Harry marvelled.
"Do you want a broom, or do you want to discuss rules?"
"I want a broom," Harry conceded. "Thanks," he added sourly. He seemed to be destined to become obligated to all the people he wouldn't want to be obligated at any circumstance.
James's Comet was indeed a decent broom, but it was no Sieg either, nor did it in truth stand half a chance against one. Pride abandoned, Harry was reduced to shadowing Asta, watching her like a hawk. He couldn't afford an independent game, not when he knew he stood zero chance to out-fly the rival Seeker. Even Bambi didn't seem to have the heart to gloat over his predicament. Instead the Ravenclaw turned his attention on the Claw's team's newest Chaser. In a span of one game Lasker seemed to have gone from being infatuated with an inanimate object to tumbling head over heels in love with the sexy Chaser.
"Aaand Hallandale scores yet again! You go, girl! Just look at her, it's been three goals in the last half an hour! You guys will boast to your grandchildren how you used to go to school with Jess!"
At least McLaggen seemed to be having pretty lousy time too, Harry thought uncharitably. And he didn't even have the excuse of riding an inferior broom. He squinted down at the Gryffindor's loops and his heart skipped a beat. A couple of feet below the Gryffindor's anxiously hovering Keeper there was an unmistakable glimmer of gold. Harry knew it was his only chance. He was closer to it than Asta; he kicked James's Comet into high gear… and almost immediately heard the familiar whizzing closing on him. He knew he had only a couple of seconds before Asta outdistanced him, he knew it was not enough… Without thinking he abandoned the broom, diving off it headlong down and hooking with his feet at its trunk. As he snatched the tiny winged ball, he saw Asta, her face incandescent with fury, as she was elegantly coming out of the deep dive and flying off, leaving him to dangle helplessly topsy-turvy and sliding inexorably towards the broom's handle. The girl apparently decided that saving his neck once in one game was more than enough.
Fortunately, before he tumbled off the broom, Hooch and Mc Laggen who was the closest Gryff player to him both flied up to Harry and vaulted him back on the broom. It was so not his day, Harry thought dully. Now he had McLaggen of all people to be grateful to. Not that the other boy could do anything but come to his rescue, what with the Snitch having been there at his right heel.
"Dropping off the broom twice in one game and still catching the Snitch, that's the one for the record books!" Bambi shouted. "'Course with only fifty points gap Ravenclaw will still have a pretty decent chance of winning the tournament. You can't always rely on freaky accidents to win, folks, it's just not arithmantically feasible. In the end of the day skill is what –" The rest of his rant was drowned by the clamour of the tribunes.
As he landed Harry noticed Asta standing there, apparently waiting for him. She had the time to compose herself, her face a polite mask.
"Good game, Hagel," she said.
"Yeah, it was," Harry offered somewhat helplessly. If it was anyone else he'd say 'you were great' or 'I just lucked-out', or something along those lines, but somehow he didn't think that Asta would appreciate such platitudes. Before he could think of something more appropriate to say, the girl shrugged and with a calm 'see you around' turned and left.
"Well, ain't we pissed off," Lena commented gleefully.
"Great catch!" Harry turned and saw James flashing a first genuine smile his way.
"Thanks. And thanks for the broom."
"No problem. Can I have it back, please?"
"Indeed, Mr. Potter, you can't!" McGonagall interrupted their exchange. Great timing, Harry thought, listening to her stern lecturing.
Later, as they were celebrating in the Common Room, Harry picked up a couple of butterbeers and approached the marauders.
"Here," he gave them the bottles, "listen, James, I am sorry I got you in trouble."
"S'allright," the boy said sullenly. "Not you fault".
"Do you have any ideas on who'd jinxed you broom?" Sirius asked.
"Not really. Though, it's got to be a Gryffindor. I've never left it outside the tower."
"Oh. Are we under suspicion?"
"Not really. Harry chuckled at the boys expressions. They didn't seem to know whether to be gratified or insulted.
"I know you guys are good," Harry clarified. "But the spellwork involved is simply too sophisticated for a first-year to pull off. The hurtling jinx wasn't even timed, it was keyed to acceleration. Pretty neat," he acknowledged grudgingly.
"So you think we didn't try to kill you because it too much work, not because it's unethical," Sirius wanted to know.
"I'd like to think you wouldn't want to kill me, of course," Harry answered mildly. "You guys make dangerous enemies." And so do I, he left unsaid.
"Hmm," James smirked impishly. "You did cost me a detention."
"In magic it's the intention that counts," Harry countered. "And you should have waited until we were in the Common Room, anyway."
"I suppose. Shall we drink to our truce then?"
"Great idea," Harry drank his butterbeer. "Oh, no, they are at it again!" The twins were attempting to cover Satisfaction. "Why hasn't anyone jinxed that bloody thing?" Harry muttered referring to the guitar.
It was into small hours in the morning when Harry and the other Gryffindor boys finally retired to their dormitories. Andy Ridge, a muggleborn in Harry's year was first to enter their room when he startled and gave out an unmanly squeak. The other boys barged in their wands out only to find Sinister sitting nonchalantly on Harry's four-poster, a sizable book pile on her either side and an elongated parcel across her knees.
"Niz! What are you doing here? Everything alright at home, is it?" Harry asked concerned.
"Shipshape, Master Harry." Inexplicably Sinister delighted in picking muggle expressions from Martin's muggle customers. "Master Ralf wishes for you and the Messrs Prewetts to have these," the elf gestured at the book piles.
Gideon was baffled.
"Why would your brother take such undue interest in our intellectual development?"
"And what is this?" Fabian zeroed on the parcel.
"Master Ralf's broom," the Elf said placidly. "Master Ralf says Master Harry is to use it for the time being."
"Oh," now that he'd flied against a Sieg, Harry wasn't about to refuse Ralf's handsome offer. "How did he know about that so fast though?" Harry was puzzled. To his knowledge, there wasn't a Hagel's or a Popmrington's portrait in Hogwarts. Could Nick contact the family somehow?
Sinister rolled her expressive saucerlike eyes.
"Professor McGonagall called and talked to the Master;" she said. "Mistress was in the right state. Told Master to contact that Crouch wizard, she did."
"Oh. Well, thanks, Niz."
"Sinister lives to serve," the elf dismissed. "Master Ralf also compiled the notes," she said brandishing two thick scrolls to Harry and the twins.
"I bet, he did," Fabian muttered skimming through theirs. "Send him our thanks, will you?"
"Sinister will convey your gratitude to the young master," was the dignified reply. "Sinister must go back now." She nodded and disapparated with a slight pop.
Not one to stand on ceremony Gideon tore off the wraps from Ralf's broomstick and yelped.
"What?..."
"Is that?
"It is!"
"Merlin's balls, how come your brother has a better broom than you do?!"
Not about to expound on Ralf's past difficulties and family fears Harry tried to offer some plausible excuse for the broom disparity.
"Dad bought me the best broom on the market last year. This year Grandfather bought the best available model for Ralf."
"I'll say," Benjy Fenwick said enviously. Ridge still seemed too traumatized by the Sinister's visit to care about brooms.
"What was that?" he demanded.
"A house-elf," Harry decided to forgo detailed explanations. "There are loads of them in Hogwarts, you know. The mostly keep to themselves though."
Meanwhile the twins were eagerly perusing Ralf's annotations to the books he'd sent.
"Hey, Ralf's as bad as McGonagall," Gideon observed. "Good thing he can't demand a twenty-feet essay from us."
"Hmm…," Harry was reading though his own scroll. Most of the books were on the general theory and history of animagi transformations, as well as the relevant legislation and case history. Harry decided to look into them later, and latched on the practical manuals.
He'd have to put the Room of Requirement to good use for the animagi experimentation. The Room remained one of the secrets he had yet to share with the twins. Partly because it would be difficult to explain his knowledge, partly because it was simply too delicious secret to share. However, as Ralf sensibly pointed out in his scroll, it would be simply too irresponsible for a third-year to attempt such monumental project without a proper back-up. The twins too might need a place to experiment. In the end Harry decided to sleep on it. He put the manuals and the scroll to his bedside table, swiping the rest of the books in the trunk. As he did, he caught sight of a slim volume at the bottom of the pile. "Myths or Magical Reality. The Labours of Animagi", the title read. Harry hastily consulted Ralf's scroll. Paolo Hernandez's work merited the briefest of descriptions on the list. "Basically a compendium of animagi-related South- and Mesoamerican lore. Pretty unreliable, though an engrossing read." Harry hesitated for a moment and put Hernandez's book on the top of the manuals.
Though they had no practice on Sunday, next morning the entire team, the reserve, and a couple of dozens of other Gryffs, as well as on-lookers from other houses, were found on the Quidditch pitch ogling, fondling and otherwise admiring Ralf's Sieg. The fact that Harry was second person at school flying the best model on the market elicited as much gossiping as the fact that the Sieg actually belonged to his younger brother. One, who hadn't even started Hogwarts yet.
"So is your brother a killer flyer or what?" Sirius asked.
Harry didn't want him to get the wrong idea so he tried to strike a balance between the truth and family loyalty.
"He's fine, but I think he actually prefers horses."
Sirius nodded, as if Harry just confirmed his darkest suspicions.
"And does he have some kick-ass thoroughbred Abrahan or Granian as well?"
"Dad's breeding horses, so there are many to choose from at the estate."
"Muggle or magical?"
"Both."
"Isn't that, like, against the Stature?" Daisy Sackville, a pretty Ravenclaw (who showed in Harry's opinion extremely bad judgement in dating McLaggen) wanted to know.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"The stature is for humans, not animals," he said irritably. "When you eat pork chops at dinner, you don't think they come from some magical flying pigs, do you?"
"Speaking of laws and loopholes," James grinned slyly. "The rules only say that I am not allowed to bring a broomstick here. There was nothing in my letter about not riding one. I don't suppose…?"
"Sure," Harry handed him the broom, "I owe you one." He was actually more than a little curious to see James fly.
It didn't take long to ascertain that the boy was an extraordinary flyer. After flying for a quarter of an hour and trying a few extremely risky manoeuvres he finally landed, windswept and grinning ecstatically. Only to be accosted by an equally elated Lena.
"Potter! You are officially a reserve Chaser as of now! Can you hit your folks for a better broom next year? Murphy's graduating, so there will be a vacancy." Stebbins looked furious at her speech, Harry noticed.
"Oh, yeah, I am totally putting a Sieg on my Christmas list," James replied eyes glazed. "Here you go, mate," he handed the broom back to Harry, "you are hereby forgiven for landing me in detention."
"Well, that's a relief," Harry was only partly joking.
Finally mounting his broom, Harry tried a few near suicidal dives, and tested acceleration to the limit, and had to admit that it was almost as good as his much-missed Firebolt. He wondered how much exercise Ralf had managed, if any. Harry was amusing himself with a mental picture of Nutty sitting atop the Sieg behind Ralf, and berating him every time he attempted anything other than a sedate pace. Though really, now that he thought of it, it wasn't that amusing. Harry would have to do something to get the annoying elf off his brother's back. Literally.
His musings were suddenly interrupted as a familiar slim figure whooshed past him at a breakneck speed.
"So how does it feel to ride a proper broom?" Asta asked as she braked a few feet past Harry and swung one leg nonchalantly to seat side-saddle.
Harry had to admit, at was a neat trick.
"Different," he said. It's not like there was anything improper about his Nimbus, he grumbled mentally.
Asta stretched lazily and crossed her legs, for all the world as if she was a muggle trapeze gymnast.
"Since we are on an equal footing now, so to speak, can I interest you in a race?"
"Um, sure," Harry said ineloquently. "What are the terms?"
"That would be for our seconds to determine," Asta pointed out.
"OK, I name the Prewett twins, who are yours?"
The girl frowned.
"Surely two seconds is overkill," she complained. "I guess it can't be helped when you are best friends with twins. I'll send someone to them."
"Fine," Harry wondered if she was short of friends to act as seconds. She was something of a loner from what he could see.
"I can ask one of them," Harry offered.
The girl didn't look gratified.
"No, that's fine", she replied haughtily, straddled her broom again, and went in an almost vertical dive.
"So, first you duel over a girl, and now you just duel a girl. You are a dangerous person to know," Fabian said.
"Racing isn't duelling."
"Same difference. Either way, it's all down to satisfaction," Gideon smiled.
The rules they had eventually agreed on were in Harry's opinion ridiculous in their complexity. They had to fly around the lake meticulously tracing its contour. To make sure that neither of them would cut the corners, Bambi, who was one of Asta's seconds, had come up with the Ariadne Thread charm. Apparently, it was something Gringott's curse-breakers had invented when they started to explore the pyramids of Giza. Bambi had modified the spell for broom users, and made sure that Harry's and Asta's threads were of different colours. It was an impressive magical feat, Harry acknowledged, but hardly the best way to race.
"Can't we, I dunno, just fly from the Astronomy Tower to Shrieking Shack and back?" Harry grumbled to the twins.
"Not much entertainment in that," Gideon explained apologetically.
"I thought it was about satisfaction?"
"Not much satisfaction without entertainment."
They were right about entertainment, Harry thought ruefully, as nearly half of the school population congregated around the lake, despite it being the Hogsmeade weekend. Bambi gave the signal, and off they went leaving behind their brooms blue and red coloured tails, as though they were planes at some fancy muggle avia-show. Harry tried doggedly to stick to the rules, but it turned out to be impossible to fly along the bank-line without actually cutting a corner once in a while. In the end Harry got to the finish a second ahead of Asta, but after a careful examination of their threads all the seconds agreed that the Ravenclaw executed her flight with more precision. With a flourish Bambi raised his wand, entwined the two threads into one and made it roll itself into a huge ball. He then presented it to Asta as a trophy.
"Thanks," clutching the ball to her chest, the girl picked up her broom, and ran to the castle, an uncharacteristically wide happy grin on her face.
"Hey, good show," Sirius called out.
"Not much of a race though," Lena opined.
Harry shrugged. In truth, he didn't mind Asta's winning the race, as long as Gryffindor kept winning matches.