Chapter Eleven - Yes, My Captain!
On Monday morning, Professor Snape passed the word that all the Slytherin prefects were to report to him in his office before dinner. Six people made a cramped fit in the small room.
"Thank you for coming. I won't keep you long. I know the first prefect meeting is after dinner, and I will give you the same admonishment I give all prefects every year. You are representatives of our noble and glorious house. Remember your image. Accord yourselves with dignity and decorum. With the return of the Dark times, there will be many who wish to impune us by association. Do not let them."
"We won't, sir," Bletchley promised.
"Good. Dismissed. Dinner awaits."
Up in the Great Hall, Harry and Pansy sat with Draco and Daphne who had saved them seats. He took a large helping of roast chicken.
"What did Snape want?" Draco asked.
"Just some prefect stuff. He wanted to make sure we remember to protect the interests of the house."
"Ah hah. Well, you'll do that anyway."
"He's just being diligent."
"He's a good Head of House. So anyway, you were going to show me about Vanishing those mice. How do you manage to get all this Transfiguration junk on the first try?"
"It's easy, Draco. I'll find you after the prefects meeting."
After dinner, Harry, Pansy, David, Sam, Heather, and Miles lingered at the table as the rest of the house descended to the dungeons. The Slytherin prefects headed up to the third floor and opened a door that never opened. Harry had thought it was an ordinary wall just pretending. He frowned in confusion. This wasn't the same room he'd seen once in third year.
But yet it was. The lavish, ornate design of the room seemed very royal. It was done in shades of purple. Up towards the ceiling, the walls were decorated with small, silver-framed portraits of all the prefects that had come before, with large gold ones to indicate a Head Boy or Girl.
Old-fashioned carved wood was the primary material of the room. Shelves around the walls were filled with hundreds of leather-bound books. These were shiny and new, unlike the dusty tomes in the library.
There were two tiers of seats, almost like Quidditch stands. Each side was decorated with banners and bunting in the house colours. Thick arm chairs, three to a tier, looked more like thrones with big footstools to make sure the prefects were comfortable.
At one corner of the ground level were two chairs and a table for the Head Boy and Girl. They had a gavel. Cedric Diggory and Alicia Spinnet were already hard at work as the Slytherins arrived.
The Hufflepuffs were right on their heels. They took the seats on Slytherin's left. The Gryffindors arrived next and sat on the benches opposite Slytherin. The Ravenclaws were the last to enter and went to their designated place.
Padma glared daggers at Harry as she swept past him. She turned to Goldstein, laughed at something he said, and laid a hand on his arm. Harry felt his stomach drop. Already? A month and a week or so had passed since he had broken up with Padma. Five weeks. They'd been together for seven months. Harry realized it was actually quite some time. Was it time for him to move on as well?
Diggory banged his gavel three times. "This first official meeting of the Hogwarts prefect council is hereby called to order, Head Boy Cedric Diggory and Head Girl Alicia Spinnet presiding. Let the record show that all prefects are present."
"So noted," Alicia said, setting up a charmed quill to take the minutes.
"Good. First on the agenda: use of magic in the halls. This is a regular complaint from Mister Filch, who has already had to clean up the evidence of unauthorized duels and spellwork. I expect you all to keep magic out of the corridors. I especially mean the Slytherins and the Gryffindors."
"I object to that remark," Bletchley said, rising to his feet.
"The chair recognizes the prefect from Slytherin," Spinnet said.
"The Head Boy's editorial remark is made without proper introduction of evidence. He has brought no numbers, no figures to support his claim that more than fifty-one percent of class-to-class transitional magical altercations involve my house or your own, Head Girl, let alone both of them together. Furthermore, since Ihave requested those numbers, I know that they do not support his outrageous claim. I demand that the Head Boy's comment be stricken from the record and that he be made to apologize for his thoughtless and unsubstantiated generalization."
"I second that," all of the upper year Slytherins said together.
"Oh for Merlin's sake, you all know it's true!" said Lee Jordan of Gryffindor.
"The chair does not recognize the gentleman from Gryffindor," Diggory said, trying desperately to keep things from disintegrating further. "If the gentleman from Slytherin will agree to table his motion until such evidence can be obtained from Mister Filch-"
"Tell old Filch we want him to fill out his paperwork better!" Bletchley retorted. "Check the figures, please, before you go creating rumours with your editorials."
"Are you quite through, Miles?"
"You're the one who wanted order. I've been entirely procedural about this. If we really are all equals in here, then I don't think it's right that any house's good name is impuned without evidence. It was bad enough before the world all went to hell, but now things are real. There are real consequences. If you can't substantiate your claims, innocent people could get hurt. I will not see any of you bring harm to the children in my great house. Evidence, mate. I want evidence. Is not one of the common rights of an Englishman that of being innocent until proven guilty?"
"All right, that's enough, Miles," Diggory said, banging his gavel. "No more grandstanding."
"Grandstanding?" Miles even managed to sound outraged. "Standing up for my rights is now somehow inappropriate?"
"You are no longer recognized," Diggory said. "You made your point. I'm sorry you can't take a little pointed criticism. Magic in the corridors between classes is against the rules, and all students are expected to follow it. There are going to be plenty of appropriate venues to work on spellwork this year. The Charms Club is actively recruiting. I hear they're going to have a guest come in from the Experimental Committee."
"Plus there's Professor Umbridge's new Duelling Club," Spinnet added. "I was talking with her today about it, and she's going to be bringing in some Aurors as guest instructors."
That was interesting news. Honestly, it was welcome news as well. Harry thought Professor Umbridge seemed a bit too, well, nice to be a Defence teacher. He couldn't imagine her drawing a wand on anyone. He'd sort of assumed that she would be really good on the theory to get them the best grounding in making the spell work and then letting them do it while not actually doing it herself.
"Seek the floor," said Roger Davies, seventh-year from Ravenclaw.
"Granted," said Diggory.
"Am I the only one in this council who is concerned about what Professor Umbridge has proposed for the NEWT-level Defence course? It's the bleeding Auror first year curriculum! We're being trained for war! They want to make soldiers out of us! They want us to march off and get killed! Is every single student at this school going to duel with Death Eaters?"
"Yes!" Harry said suddenly. "Seek the floor?"
"The chair recognizes the gentleman from Slytherin."
Harry got to his feet. He felt a bit nervous; he hadn't intended to speak up at his first meeting, but sometimes you didn't get to make your choices.
"What is the purpose of school? To educate children, to train them, to impart to them the knowledge and skills that they will need in order to survive in the real world once they finish school and leave home. Well guess what? The real world is a pretty scary bloody place right now. There are Muggleborns being attacked everywhere. Some of those families have kids in school right now! They know the score, and anyone else who doesn't isn't paying attention. Unless you're a doubter, Davies. You don't think the Ministry is making it all up, do you?"
"That's a loaded question, and I'm not answering it."
"Refusing to answer the question means he's scared of one of the answers," Pansy said. "Since the only right answer is 'No, the Ministry is telling the truth about Voldemort being back,' he's afraid of speaking the other answer, 'Yes, the Ministry is lying about Voldemort being back.' So you think the Ministry is lying, do you, Davies?"
"Stop putting words in my mouth!" The seventh-year prefect was very irritated. Not being chosen Head Boy would do that to a person. He'd been barely civil to anyone, least of all Diggory.
"Cedric, are you going to let that go on?" Spinnet asked. "Parkinson is out of order."
"Roger started it," Diggory said fairly. "If he can't defend himself against a couple of mouthy fifth-years, maybe we should ask Professor Flitwick to appoint a new prefect. Potter has a point."
"Stuff it, Diggory," Davies snapped, "and shut up, Parkinson. All I said was that I think Professor Umbridge may be a bit extreme in her teaching methods. I recognize that the Dark Lord has returned, but that's no excuse for turning Hogwarts into a boot camp. We can't all be soldiers, you know. Some of us have to plan and strategize."
"Yes, and we're called Slytherins," Miles Bletchley said loudly.
The whole council erupted in laughter, some of it a bit nervous, all of it noisy. Davies scowled darkly. He stood there seething until everyone calmed down.
"If I may continue?" he asked icily.
"No," Diggory said. "I've heard enough. I'm doing the same things in class as you are, Davies, and I don't find that we're being unduly pushed. Has the curriculum changed? You bet it has. Is it unreasonable given what's going on out there? Not a chance. Professor Umbridge has the full backing of the Headmaster and the board of governors. Those are the adults entrusted with securing our education and protection, and this is the course they have chosen. Now, when she starts having us cast Unforgiveables on each other, then I will find arguments that she's gone crackers a little more credible, but not before. Is that clear?"
There was a murmur of assent from the council.
"Good," Spinnet said, her tone clearly indicating that it was settled. "Next item, the first Hogsmeade weekend. For reasons of security, the students will not be told until the morning of at breakfast. Don't make too many plans for that weekend. Dumbledore wants us to be ready to get everyone back to the castle in a hurry if there's trouble. As Professor Moody once told us, 'Constant vigilance'. We're to be ready to hold off Death Eaters if we have to until the teachers arrive."
"What?" Bletchley demanded. "Can no one be spared to guard the next generation for a weekend?"
"Bletchley, shut up! You are argumentative and out of order. We are prefects, and it is our job to protect our students."
"It's the Headmaster's responsibility to protect the students."
"We assist in that. Got it?"
"I'm more prepared to be the last line of defence, not the first, if you know what I'm saying. I'm not scared to go down fighting to protect my kids, but do I really have to volunteer to be the first guy?"
"It's the best we can do, Bletchley. They're worried about decoy attacks too."
Bletchley snorted. "Protect all the important places then. Whatever. Carry on." He sat.
"Thank you!" Diggory said with exasperation. "Third item:"
On it went, covering any number of small, minute complaints. Students were to be kept out of the Astronomy tower after curfew except for class purposes. The list of banned items was distributed. Patrol schedules were handed out. Harry despaired that this torment might never be over. Finally Diggory started wrapping up.
"Does anyone have anything to bring before the council?"
Nobody did. It was only a week into term, after all. One of the Ravenclaws motioned to adjourn, and was seconded. After a quick voice vote, the meeting ended with the bang of the gavel. Everyone got to their feet and began to shuffle for the door.
A flash of bright blonde hair caught his eye. Hannah Abbott looked over just as he was looking up. Their eyes locked, and she giggled nervously. She smiled at Harry as she walked out of the meeting room. It was a pleasure to watch her leave. She wore a cinched-in robe that did nothing to hide her figure. She'd always been pretty, but now she was sultry.
Harry and Pansy were by themselves as they walked through the corridors back down to the Slytherin common room. Sam Warrington and David Palce had taken a different and more roundabout route. Heather Chandler and the seventh year prefect from Ravenclaw headed to the library to work on Ancient Runes together. Bletchley had stayed to talk Quidditch with Diggory and Spinnet.
"Say, Pansy."
"Yes, Harry?"
"I think Hannah Abbott has a crush on me."
"Ooh, really?" Pansy asked, very interested now. "Do tell."
"Well, just now she giggled and smiled at me."
"Very perceptive, Harry. I've taught you well. Now, what else is there? I know you had a couple of dates last summer."
"I went swimming at her house, but it's not really a date. Susan was there."
"Then you and Draco went out on a boat with them both," Pansy remembered, not sounding terribly pleased with the recollection.
"Yes, there was that, but then the whole Goblet of Fire nonsense happened. We haven't really talked in a long time."
"Well, Hannah loves Herbology. It's her favourite subject. She likes bright colours, which explains her predilection for yellow even when she's not at school. She likes horses, unicorns, pegasi, and so on. That may include centaurs, but we're not sure. She loves swimming and knows how to dive quite well. She hadn't gone out with anybody before she went to the Yule Ball with Justin Finch-Fletchley. She didn't kiss him, and she hasn't gone out with him, or with anybody else, since."
Pansy rattled off Hannah's biography with a preciseness that scared Harry somewhat. Her depth of knowledge about her fellow students was astounding. She was one of the many cogs in the Hogwarts gossip mill, one of the big ones.
"How was it when you were over her house?" Pansy asked. "I bet anything Bones was just there for courage and it really was a date for you and Hannah."
"Weren't you the one telling me I'd asked out Susan?"
"Yes, but you did. She eventually got over that bit about stealing Hufflepuff's glory, right? She's not as tall as she looks because her shoes have really thick soles. Her favorite color is brown. She aced the Charms final last year. She went to the Yule Ball with Ernie MacMillan-"
"Pansy, enough," Harry begged. "I think I should just try one, don't you think?"
"Just trying to help, Harry. Hannah's favourite drink is butterbeer, so maybe you can spend some time with her in the Three Broomsticks."
"Well that sounds good," Harry said, feeling glad that he finally had a plan. "Now to ask her."
"Let it happen naturally. Don't force it. You get too nervous."
"Girls make me nervous."
"As we should, Harry. As we should."
Harry's first prefect patrol was scheduled for Thursday night. He was to take his first rounds with an older prefect who could show him the ropes. He found himself with David Palce, a relatively soft-spoken boy who immediately put Harry at ease.
"There's nothing to this patrolling bit. The castle is divided up according to house. Being Slytherin, our designated area is the dungeons. Anything on the ground floor and lower is our domain. Of course, you can swap with any prefect, so you may need to go through other areas. Hufflepuff has the first and second floors, Gryffindor has the third and fourth floors and the battlements, and Ravenclaw has the top three floors and the towers."
"I see."
"It's a simple matter of walking down every corridor, listening for noises that will betray people out after curfew. Mostly it's students from different houses getting together to snog. Rarely you'll find the couple that doesn't want the rest of their house to know. That's always good for some blackmail leverage. Last year I caught Angelina Johnson and George Weasley in the unused classroom near the way out to the greenhouses. I got quite an eyeful, let me tell you. Johnson's very curvy."
Harry grinned. "What'd your silence cost them?"
"Weasley tried to bluff his way out, but Johnson clamped a hand over his mouth and told me she'd do my history essay. I wasn't about to turn her down."
"Did she get a good mark?"
"Actually, yes."
They exited the Slytherin common room and made their way down towards the Potions classrooms.
Harry opened the first door and peered inside. He placed his hand on the stone circle near the door, causing the torches to flare to life.
"Nothing here."
"You've got to do more than that, Potter," Palce said. "Go check down the rows and make sure there's nobody hiding down front."
Harry did so, looking carefully under each bench and behind the desk at the front.
"Still nothing here."
"Very well. Next room."
It was more of the same, and Harry soon grew quite bored with the tedium of it. He and David chatted away anything and everything in order to pass the time.
"So how about the British Cup this year? Harry asked. "Think Montrose can do it again?"
"Do you think they'll even have a Cup? What with the war on and all?" David asked.
"I hope so," Harry replied. The very thought had never occured to him. It had been bad enough when Quidditch was cancelled for the Triwizard Tournament. "Bollocks, that would be awful."
"Did you hear that?" David said suddenly.
Harry's hand flashed to his wand. "Where?"
"It sounded like a moan. We have a couple out of bounds. This should be fun."
David cast a Silencing Charm on his feet and gestured to Harry to do the same. Then he spoke a spell Harry hadn't heard of.
"Extrauditorious!"
The previously quiet noise of the castle now roared in his ears. Every sound was amplified. He could hear bugs crawling around in the deep cracks of the stone floor, water running through pipes behind the walls, and the echoes of owls hooting in the night. He could also quite clearly hear two people breathing heavily.
"What is this spell?" he whispered. His voice sounded no louder to his own ears.
"Hearing Amplification Charm. We'll follow the sound of that noise until we find them."
"Why is my voice normal? How come I don't hear my heart beating or my own breathing? Or yours for that matter?"
David shrugged. "Snape didn't tell me. I imagine the creator of the spell worked around it."
"Snape taught you this spell?"
"Yeah. He'll be calling you into his office in a few days or so to show you. You'd better be prepared. Bletchley showed me, and now I show you."
"Thanks, David."
"No problem, Harry. Now, about those two."
David led the way to the last classroom in the corridor. This one was never used anymore, and it had become a supply room of miscellaneous equipment. Both David and Harry put their ears up to the door. There was giggling going on in there. David canceled the Charm.
"Open the door real slowly. We'll try to catch them in the act, so be very quiet."
"Door's locked," Harry said, turning the handle gently.
"Damned unlock spell makes too much light. Someone should make a stealthier version."
"I'll get right on that."
"Okay, here we go. We charge in. I'll get the front. You cover the rear. Alohamora!"
Whire light flared from David's wand into the keyhole. The mechanism opened with a click. The door swung open on squeaky hinges. Harry jumped through the door brandishing his wand. He looked quickly down the rows of seats. He saw nothing but dusty cauldrons.
"Gotcha!" David shouted from the front of the room.
A girl screamed, and Harry ran down just in time to see her pulling her shirt closed. He got a tantalizing glimpse of breast and wished he'd been faster.
"Well, well, well, Connie Rookwood," David said pleasantly, "and Cormac McClaggan, what a surprise."
"Sod off, Palce!" the boy ordered.
"Five points from Gryffindor for being discourteous to a prefect," David said instead. "Ten for being out of bounds, I'd say. Get back to your tower."
"Come on, Connie."
"Oh no, I'm not done with Miss Rookwood quite yet. Get along McClaggan. This is prefect business."
McClaggan glared, but there really was nothing he could do. He slouched off, buttoning his shirt as he went.
Connie Rookwood was a tall girl with very pale blonde hair. Her robe was currently thrown over a chair, and she was hastily buttoning her shirt before she could show them anymore than she already had.
David pointed his wand and levitated a slinky bit of lace.
"Is this his or yours?"
"Oooh!" Connie fumed, snatching it out of the air and stuffing it in the pocket of her robes, which she donned with a flourish. She began fastening that up as well.
"Oh, what to do with you," David said speculatively. "I can't take points from you, as you are also a prefect. Same for detention. So why should I not turn you in to Professor Snape?"
Connie frowned for a second, but she appeared thoughtful, not angry. When she spoke, her voice was much calmer.
"David, I know you're a reasonable person. Surely there's no need to involve Professor Snape. We can resolve this between ourselves."
"I'm game."
"I may be in Ravenclaw, but my family has branches in Slytherin as well. How about a pass based on good associations?"
"Clever. Keep talking."
"Well, I heard you complaining about our Transfiguration assignment yesterday. I could help you with it."
"I already finished it. Sam talked me through it."
"Ah." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Are you and Sam dating or what? None of us can get a straight answer out of her."
"Stop trying to change the subject."
"That's a yes."
"No, it's not! No, we're not. Okay? By Merlin's flowing robes, we're just friends."
Connie looked over at Harry. "Potter, take a walk. I want to talk to David in private."
Harry looked at David. He was eyeing Connie cautiously. "About what?" he asked.
"None of his business, that's what. Come on. What are you so scared of? You've got me at wandpoint."
"Harry, leave the door open."
"Sure thing, David."
Harry walked outside the classroom and leaned against the opposite wall. He was out of hearing range, but he could still see the pair.
Out of sudden curiosity, he drew his wand.
"Extrauditorious!"
The distant sounds of the castle were now as though they were right next to him. He could hear the conversation loud and clear.
"What do you want, Connie? What the hell are you doing down here? You know this is my night for patrol. Are you trying to get caught?"
"What do you want, David?" she retorted. "Cormac is a Quidditch-playing moron. He's entertaining enough for a good snog, but he's nothing compared to you. I've been dropping hints around you for two years now, and you've been completely oblivious. Don't you like me, David? Because I think you're just about the dreamiest boy I've ever laid eyes on, and I want to do to you all of those things I was just practicing and maybe more."
David stood there dumbfounded.
"Well?" she said expectantly. "Are you going to say anything after I just poured my heart out to you?"
"Are you crackers? To think that you can give me a good snog and get off scot free? You must be out of your head. I'm a Slytherin, Connie. We didn't invent clever lies and deceptions; we perfected them. Do you want to try again?"
"Oooh!" Connie growled, giving up on her plot.
"You can't trick a Slytherin. Now march. I'm sure you know the way to Professor Snape's office."
David held Connie at wandpoint all down the corridor and around the corner to a plain wooden door. Harry knocked twice, using the special prefix to announce that he was a Slytherin who was not alone.
Professor Snape came to the door and opened it with a rush of air.
"What is it? Potter? Palce? What the devil is going here?"
"We were on patrol, sir. We heard a noise and investigated. We found Miss Rookwood in a compromising situation with Cormac McClaggan, who has already been dealt with."
"I see. Mister Potter, you confirm his story?"
"I do, sir."
"Miss Rookwood, you are out of bounds. Ten points from Ravenclaw."
"There are more charges, sir. Attempted bribery. Miss Rookwood offered to do my homework if I wouldn't turn her into you. When I refused that, she offered me her body."
Snape gave Connie a withering look. "Miss Rookwood, how disappointing."
"It's not like that!" she protested. "I didn't offer to sleep with him! As if I would! How dare you cast that slur on me?"
"Says the girl caught with her shirt off in an unused classroom."
"That will do, Mister Palce. You may go. I will deal with Miss Rookwood."
Harry and David left the office and continued on their patrol.
"Well, that was fun," Harry said.
"Oh yes."
"You didn't try to get a snog out of her? Could've done that and then turned her in."
"Thought about it. Decided I didn't want to take the chance that Sam's waiting up for me in the common room."
"So you two are dating."
"I didn't say that."
The Slytherin Quidditch team was old.
Harry couldn't really believe that after five years of playing Quidditch with Adrian Pucey, Desmond Montague, Charles Warrington the Third, and Captain Miles Bletchley, when this season ended, they would all finish school, leaving Harry alone with whatever rookies they picked up this year to replace Ivan Bole and Matthew Derrick, the Beaters who had been denied a final season of Quidditch thanks to the Triwizard Tournament. It was doubtless because of this impending vacuum that Bletchley had asked Harry to meet with him privately before the first practice.
Harry knocked on the seventh years' door. "Bletchley? You were looking for me?"
"Ah, Harry, come in." The seventh year dorm was a mild disaster area. Clothes were always hung neatly in the wardrobes of course, but everything else in the world seemed to litter the floor.
"Nice place, mate."
"Chasers are slobs," Bletchley growled. "I've said everything I can say about it. In a few more months, it won't be my problem anymore."
"So what's up?"
"You're going to be the last team veteran next year."
"Unless one of you lot gets left back."
"No chance of that. So I know it's a certainty that Snape will make you Quidditch captain. Unless we find an undiscovered future pro to be one of the Beaters at trials - and I don't think that likely - you're it."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know."
"Looking forward to it?"
"A bit."
"Nervous?"
"A bit."
"Yeah, you should be, but Flint and I have trained you well. You're a damned good Quidditch player, Potter. This year, I'll teach you how to be a leader."
Bletchley picked up a very battered leather-bound book. The Slytherin house crest was embossed on the cover, along with a faded representation of the Quidditch Cup.
"This is the play book," he said simply. "Flint gave it to me, and now I give it to you."
The play book! The Slytherin Quidditch manual was one of the most closely guarded possessions at Hogwarts (next to the Gryffindor Quidditch manual, the Ravenclaw Quidditch manual, and the Hufflepuff Quidditch manual, to be sure!) It was a priceless trove of knowledge, filled with descriptions of plays, moves, feints, tricks, and tactics. It was the culmination of decades of Slytherin cunning, and only the captain was allowed to read it.
Harry felt very awed as he slowly took the book from Bletchley. It was quite the sensation to know that in one short year Harry would wear the Captain's badge pinned to his robes. Bletchley was right: there were no other possibilities. It was as foregone as if they gave him the badge today. All the responsibility of keeping the grand Slytherin Quidditch tradition alive would rest on his shoulders.
"I don't know what to say."
"Promise me you'll guard it with your life. Promise me you'll bring the Cup home again next season."
"I promise."
"Good. Now let's get down to the pitch."
Harry stowed the manual in the third compartment of his trunk for safe-keeping. It felt strange to walk side by side with the Quidditch Captain as almost an equal. He was heir to the Slytherin tradition. He found himself standing a little taller, a little prouder.
This being the day of trials, the common room was pretty empty as he and Bletchley headed up. Heather Chandler was frantically scribbling away at some assignment or other. She didn't look up when Bletchley greeted her.
"Have fun at practice," she said. "I can't go watch. Stupid Pucey disintegrated my Transfiguration homework which is due Monday and took me all week to do."
"Ouch," Bletchley winced. "Old McGonagall will crucify you."
"I know that," she said in a stretched nerve, sing-songy tone. "Now go away."
They exited the common room into the dungeons. Quickly navigating their way to the surface, they made their way down to the pitch. Bletchley said little on the trip. He was doubtless thinking of strategy and tactics. Harry respected the silence. He even matched pace with the Captain so that the rhythm of their footfalls would be in sync and not provide disturbing patterns.
As they came within sight of the stadium, Bletchley finally spoke. "Potter, as your first training exercise in being captain, I want you to run trials."
"Bletchley, you're kidding." Harry was incredulous. What a horrible surprise to spring on him. What was Bletchley trying to do to him? "Do I get to hold the almighty clipboard?"
"Keep laughing, Potter. You might have to take over at any moment. The lads are good at the game, but they only know their part. They can't see the art and beauty of all the parts together. I think you can, and if I fall, you're going to have to step up.
Ah, so he was trying to test Harry's mettle under fire. Well, that wouldn't be hard. What was a little Quidditch trial compared to facing a dragon on a broom? "Because I've never had to perform under pressure," Harry replied, drawling slightly.
"Shut up, Potter. I'm deadly serious. If you lose the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin, I'll get Flint and all the other captains to thrash you."
"But not you?"
"Shut up, Potter," Bletchley said once more as they stepped on to the pitch, "and get the Seekers in the sky."
"Seekers over here now!" Harry bawled to the crowd.
Four people stepped forward: Laine, Arcen, Jeremiah representing fourth year, and a third year, Christine Higgs. Her older brother Terence had been reserve Seeker before Harry joined the team, just getting ready to step into the limelight. Harry had outflown him at trials as a first year, and Higgs had never gotten over his humiliation. From the hard look Christine was directing his way, Harry had a feeling that she intended to take his spot from him if she could.
"Now then, while the trial is going on, we are all going to be hunting for this." Harry took the snitch out of his pocket and held it up for all to see. He released it, and it hovered in the air for a moment before attempting to zoom away.
Harry's hand shot out and snatched the golden ball as it tried to escape. He let it go and caught it with the left hand. Twice more he let it try to get away and snatched it out of the air with flair. The four potentials watched his hands blur in the air. He regularly did this with a practice snitch. Now he was showing off and using the real thing.
"If you can get to it before me," and from Harry's tone of voice, he didn't think that very likely at all, "then you become starting Seeker. If you're the first of you lot to catch it, you become reserve Seeker, and I fly you into the ground every practice. Any questions?"
"Are there rules?" Arcen asked.
"Normal Slytherin Quidditch rules apply."
There were no more questions.
"Good. Start warming up. Chasers!"
Harry lined them up and had them count off by threes. There was a great deal of rearranging in the line so that friends who had practiced together would try out together. Every triplet was a team, and they had to fly against Warrington the Third, Pucey, and Montague. The veteran Chasers weren't out to score, just for distance and damage. Bletchley kept himself on the ground while the various Keeper wanna-bes took turns against the progressive Chaser teams.
The Beaters' trial was a bit more challenging. Bole and Derrick were gone. Without a starting player to topple, it was anybody's for the taking. Consequently, Harry had more candidates for this position than any other. He considered carefully how he should test them.
"Beaters, pair off by twos," he ordered. "Last team still flying gets the spots. If one of you is eliminated, you're both out."
"Nice strategy, Potter," Bletchley muttered appreciatively. "Survival of the fittest."
"It gives us Beaters who can pack a punch and take a hit. I thought of it from Bole and Derrick's performance during trials my first year."
"Good memory."
By this point, the Seeker hopefuls had finished their warm-up laps. Harry handed the snitch to Bletchley.
"Don't lose, Potter."
"I'll be back on the ground before you've called on the next Chaser group."
Harry kicked off, rocketing into the air on his Firebolt. This was a formality as far as he was concerned. Nobody would be able to find or catch the snitch before him.
Bletchley shouted, "Loose!" and flung the snitch into the sky. It vanished.
Harry flew up to a high vantage point. The snitch was easiest to see from above.
Arcen and Higgs both tried to fake each other out. Jeremiah got tricked by somebody's watch. Laine was flying near Harry, but not close enough to be marking him. Marking would have been useless, because once Harry saw the snitch, there would be no way she could catch him on that Cleansweep 10.
Laine dove suddenly. Harry didn't take the bait, but then he squinted along her line of flight. It was quite a ways in front of her, but it was definitely the snitch!
Biting back a curse for being caught flying the wrong direction, Harry turned on the speed. He quickly caught up with Laine and began to creep past her. The snitch was right there, waiting for him to grab.
The hand on his bum nearly made him jump off his broom. He glanced down and saw the determined look on her face. She squeezed, making shivers run up his spine, and she began to inch ahead of him.
Harry couldn't let her distract him. He twisted, pulling his derrier out of her reach. He flattened himself out as much as possible and zoomed forward to wrap his fingers around the snitch. He zoomed down to the ground where Bletchley was smirking broadly at him.
"Crazy dame really understands Slytherin Quidditch rules," Bletchley commented blandly.
Harry flushed, but he replied, "There are no rules. I got the snitch, didn't I?"
"That you did. Now figure out who your backup is going to be."
"Loose!" Harry shouted, letting the snitch go. "Any thoughts on Chasers?"
"Not really. I already had my mind made up. Nobody's better than those three."
"I figured as much."
"Beaters, now, that's more tricky. I'm inclined to go for brute strength and pick your friends Crabbe and Goyle. Flint had his eye on them, you know."
"Yeah, I know. I was going to remind you of that."
"Sounds like we're in agreement then. Good. Now get to work, and let me get through the rest of this parade."
Set by set, the hopeful Chasers and Keepers went into the sky, being generally unimpressive until Draco and Millie kicked off. Harry couldn't see who their third person was. The Keeper who rose to guard the hoops against them was Theodore Nolan, a third year.
Nolan didn't stand a chance.
Harry's friends had been working together non-stop to tighten up their teamwork. Harry had attempted to take Theo's place in that group, but he was far more suited to being a Seeker. If it weren't for the years of experience that Pucey, Montague, and Warrington the Third had together, they would have easily been the best choices. As it was, the team members had quite a fight on their hands, made more even by virtue of the lads not wanting to injure themselves at the start of the season. The cobbing and the strong tactics were not entirely out of control.
"Yes!" came a frantic shriek from high in the sky. Harry turned to look and saw Laine holding up her fist in triumph. She had caught the snitch!
"Slater, front and centre! The rest of you lot can bugger off! Anyone who wants to can also have a go at the Chasers if you're still up for it."
The other Seeker hopefuls descended with dejected expressions, except for Christine Higgs whose gaze may have rivalled a basilisk for deadliness. She shouldered her broom and headed back towards the castle. Laine landed in front of Harry and dismounted. She held out the snitch proudly, and Harry took it from her.
"Well done."
"Thank you, Harry."
"You're the reserve Seeker, but Bletchley is grooming me to be Captain next year, and I'm going to show him I've got the right stuff. I will expect you to attend every practice, and I am going to fly you ragged."
"I look forward to it."
"You say that now."
"When's the first practice, Captain?" Laine grinned mischievously at him, making his stomach do a flip-flop.
"Captain Bletchley will decide and inform us."
"Yes, sir!"
"Any who failed as Seeker who want to try being Chaser get over to the hoops now!" Harry bawled.
The Beaters were being thinned out. Half of those who had gone into the sky had returned to the ground. Many were limping off the pitch. Just as Harry had expected, Crabbe and Goyle were the last men flying amongst the Beaters. Crabbe hit a Bludger at the other pair, who tried to go for a Bludger Backbeat. Crabbe avoided the mis-aimed ball easily, but Goyle had struck the other Bludger at the exact same moment, so the other pair hadn't heard the impact. The iron ball crashed into one boy, ricocheted off him and struck the other right in the stomach. The first boy fell off, while the second began spewing up his breakfast. Crabbe didn't even use a Bludger to unseat him, just yanked his broom out from under him.
"I want Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Bulstrode, Slater, Slater, and Bulstrode to remain. Everyone else, head for the showers."
As those named clustered in the centre of the field, they were all congratulating each other. Bletchley finally called them to something resembling attention by bellowing, "Shut it!" at the top of his lungs.
"That's better. Now, then, practices are going to go a bit different this year because this is the last season for me, Montague, Pucey, and Warrington."
"The third."
"Shut it. We need to train you lot so that you can uphold the glory of Slytherin. We've had ten years of triumph in the Interhouse Quidditch Cup, and you'd better not be the team that bolloxes it up."
"You still have to lead us to victory one more time, Bletchley," Warrington contributed helpfully. "They might have to reclaim the Cup if we don't stay on top form."
"Then I hope you kept in shape over the summer," Bletchley retorted. "All Chasers in the sky now. Fifty laps at top speed. Report to me as you finish." They all stood there stunned. "Move it, move it!"
The six Chasers zoomed to the border of the pitch, already jinking and jostling for position. The team veterans were way out in front. Bletchley turned to Harry.
"Take Slater and teach her everything you know about Seeking," he ordered.
"Oh, I'll be able to make it for tea, then," Harry said cheekily. "Won't take long at all."
"Shut it, Potter. I know you'll still be Seeking for the next two years, but you nearly got eaten last year, and we didn't have a backup."
"Is that why this sudden determination to have a reserve? Because of a dragon? Bletchley, I flew circles around that lizard. He never laid a tooth on me."
"It looked pretty damn close from where I was sitting. All I could see was this year's Quidditch Cup slipping through my fingers. I will not be the one to lose it after ten years. Get her at least as good as you, or I'll- I'll- I'll do something! And you won't like it!"
The captain's face was turning red. Feeling slightly alarmed, Harry tried to calm him down. "Miles, mate, relax! Breathe. We're not going to lose the Cup. Our Chasers are still the best, and our Keeper is outstanding. None of the other Seekers is worth a sack of rat guts. Remember, this is Diggory's last year too. I don't even know who'll be trying for Gryffindor, but Chang is the best of the lot. I can train Laine to be better than all of them."
"You'd better! Now get airborne! I'll release the snitch in a minute." Bletchley turned and glared at Goyle and Crabbe, who withered. "Okay, boys, time for some pain."
"Excuse me, Captain Bletchley?" Lucas Slater spoke up. "What about me?"
"What?" Bletchley seemed momentarily confused. "Oh, right, the other Slater. Umm, get warmed up. You're going to be guarding the hoops against the Chasers. All of them."
Lucas' face paled, but he raised his chin. "Yes, sir!"
Harry turned to Laine. "Let's hit the sky."
They kicked off into the air. Harry led her up to the centre of the pitch about a hundred feet up. You could see everything on the field from up here.
Laine stayed hot on his twigs as he zoomed upwards. Her Cleansweep 10 was pretty zippy, and more than enough to beat any of the other Seekers.
"Oh wise one, I have sought you out that I might learn from your wisdom. Teach me the secrets of Slytherin's champions."
Harry laughed. "Well, we start with the little golden ball called a snitch."
"We have to catch it. Yes, this much I know."
"Just checking that we have the basics. You did pretty good during the trial. You must have been practicing over the summer. Do you have your own pitch at home?"
"Yes, and because the house is built the way it is, well, you'll just have to come see it some time. There's all the room to fly you could want. I couldn't leave the house this summer, so that's what I did. Then I figured if I was going to be flying so much anyway, I might as well train to go out for the team. I'm still rather surprised I actually made it."
"It was a good plan," Harry complimented. "I see the snitch. Let's go!"
Neck and neck they raced around the pitch. The snitch apparently wasn't in the mood for taking them on an obstacle course through the stands. It was content to dart to and fro all over the customary playing zone, giving them obstacles like Chasers and Bludgers to avoid.
Harry figured it was about time to show Laine a few of the nasty things Seekers could do to each other. She may have done some fancy flying, but catching the snitch wasn't just about that. He eased back from his top speed. She caught up with him.
He looked over at Laine and saw that she was straining to get closer to the snitch. She spared a glance in his direction. Harry winked at her and then flipped over on his broom, riding upside down underneath her.
"Harry!" she screamed. "What are you doing?!"
He grinned up at her without answering. In her attention to what he was doing, she lost focus on flying. It compensated for his being essentially hanging from his broom.
Keeping his right knee locked tight over the handle, Harry reached out with his left foot and put it at the base of Laine's tail-twigs. She noticed the sudden shift to her broom and looked back.
"What are you-? No!" she yelped as he shoved as hard as he could, sending her careening for the ground. They were pretty high up, but there still wasn't a lot of time to recover from any sudden shock to a broom.
Harry pulled up, letting the snitch flutter away. He wanted to see how quickly Laine could recover. She took longer than he would have liked, but she did manage to regain control.
"Nice move," she said sarcastically.
"It worked, didn't it? It's also legal."
"Right. Legal."
"The snitch is waiting for us."
As soon as they started chasing it again, the snitch began to fly away as fast as it could. Harry noticed that Laine was flying a lot faster than she'd been before. Harry bumped his broom against hers. She swore at him and corrected her position. He took one hand off and gave her a sharp elbow to the arm. She yelped and swerved off.
"You must learn control," Harry said. "Quidditch is a rough game. The other Seeker is going to be ruthless. Take him out first."
"Right."
The snitch had vanished, so they started looking for it again. Harry and Laine floated above the pitch, eyes peeled.
"Seeking is long moments of concentration interrupted by brief spurts of frantic flying and excitement. Once you begin to go after it, you'll have all the other team trying to foul you. Beaters will aim in your direction, and I once saw Fred Weasley 'mistake' Pucey for a Bludger."
"That can't be legal."
"If Madam Hooch doesn't see it, then it's legal. There! Do you see it?
"Where?"
Harry pointed to where the snitch was happily fluttering along the stands. She looked, following his finger.
"I can't see it."
"There," Harry said, "right by the banner."
They had become quite close as Harry tried to guide her line of sight to the snitch. She turned her head slightly, and suddenly her breath was tickling his ear.
"I'm going to learn a lot from you."
Harry felt blood rushing to his face. His skin was all tingly where her breath had touched his cheek, and he wished she would do it again. He turned his head to reply, and Laine leaned forward to meet him. Their lips touched, then lingered, then pulled back.
Fireworks were going off in Harry's head. Had that really just happened?
Laine watched him anxiously for a split second. Then she smiled at him, and his insides turned to custard.
The snitch chose that inopportune moment to buzz by them, and Laine zoomed off after it, leaving Harry trying to shake away the daze. Belatedly, he took off after her.
Harry was distracted for the rest of practice, and he was quiet as he showered and changed into clean clothing. He hung around the entrance to the locker room as the boys headed up to the Great Hall for dinner.
Just when he'd started to think that Laine might have gotten over her crush on him, she had to go and do something like snog him several hundred feet in the air. Harry felt himself getting dizzy all over again just remembering the feel of her soft lips.
He was also conflicted. He was already making signs of interest towards Hannah. She seemed to be receptive. To be fair, she was giving him big signs right back, ones with gigantic, multi-colour letters. What was he to do about that?
Harry forced himself to pause. He was getting far too ahead of himself. He needed to take this one step at a time. He should give Laine a fair chance. He hadn't really done more than exchange flirty glances with Hannah. He'd done that with a lot of girls, including her best friend Susan.
It wasn't unheard of for students to date outside their form. He liked Laine plenty, and apparently he liked to kiss her. As Sirius had told him, relationships weren't much more than that at this stage.
Harry cupped a hand to his face and checked his breath. It wasn't too horrible, but could certainly do with some freshening. He tapped his wand to his tongue and teeth. This was a spell he'd learned in the book of household spells Sirius had recommended to him. The Freshening Charm could be adapted to many uses, and now Harry could taste nothing but spearmint.
"Harry!" Laine said with surprise as she emerged from the changing room. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you. I thought we might walk up to dinner together."
"Sure. I'd like that."
"Congratulations again on making the reserve squad. We'll get you trained up a bit, and you'll be more than ready to take on Gryffindor."
"What about Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff?"
"That's a bit trickier," Harry admitted. "Cho Chang is pretty good as a Seeker, and Diggory is better than her, but Diggory is done with school this year, and Chang will be done the year after."
"So I'll have one year after you leave school to be the best Seeker in Hogwarts, and that's it?"
Harry chuckled. "Yes, that's what I'm saying."
"Do you like me, Harry?"
Harry nearly stumbled. Laine had caught him completely off-guard with her direct question. A direct question deserved a straight answer.
"Yes, I do. I think you're fun, pretty, pleasant, and I know I can depend on you. What's not to like?"
"I like you too. I think you've known that, and I've tried to get over my crush. I think I am, for the most part, but I still like you. I think about you all the time. I wonder what you're doing. I even dream about you sometimes."
Laine instantly began to blush. "Oh drat. I didn't mean to say that."
Harry didn't know whether to be touched or worried by her unintended revelation. Perhaps a bit of both.
"Just what are we doing in these dreams of yours?" he asked teasingly.
"I don't believe I told you that," she rued.
"Come on," he wheedled. "If you don't tell me, I'll just start making stuff up."
Laine blushed even harder. "It's nothing like that. I dream that you asked me to the Yule Ball last year, or that I actually got up the courage to cut in a few times. Or that there'll be another ball this year, and you'll ask me. Silly, I suppose."
"Not at all. It would have been fun to dance with you. I certainly danced with everyone else. I'm sorry I didn't ask you for at least one."
"That's so sweet, Harry. Thank you. Next time, then."
"Sure."
Harry decided right then that he would ask Laine out to Hogsmeade as soon as Dumbledore made the announcement. There was no reason in the world why he shouldn't have a date with a girl who liked him.
Maybe he should even ask her before the news broke. He didn't know when the weekend would be, but it would give them something to look forward to. Or it could hang over their heads, he considered.
Harry realized that despite being older and wiser and talking to men he respected, he still did not understand how to cope with females.
"Would you like to go for a walk around the castle with me? I think I've got some time free next Thursday."
"OWL year already a cruncher, is it?" she asked sympathetically.
"Things haven't even gotten started yet," he predicted.
"Well we'd better fit in the fun time while we can," she said with a giggle. "Yes, Harry, I would like to take a long walk with you. Whenever you can find the time is fine with me. I understand how busy you are."
Harry felt a rush of gratitude. It felt weird having to schedule his recreation time, but that was what O.W.L. year meant.
"I'll let you know later in the week then."
"Sounds good."
They were at the front gate to the castle now, and Harry opened the smaller door to the side. He gestured for Laine to go first. She smiled at him as she passed by, and he felt his insides knot up.
"Are you going to join Umbridge's duelling club?" Harry asked, moving to a less flush-inducing topic of conversation.
"I don't know. Lucas is quite excited to sign up, but I don't know if I'd be any good at that sort of thing."
"We all need to be able to defend ourselves. What if the Death Eaters come for you because you're on my side?"
"I suppose I'd try to run away. Hide. Apparate. I'm going to try to get a job in the Ministry when I finish school. I'll be able to contribute to the war that way. I don't have the marks or the skills to make it as an Auror or a Healer."
"You're selling yourself short."
"It's nice of you to say so, Harry, but the professors say otherwise."
"Marks aren't everything."
"But they do matter a lot."
"I think you should join anyway. It never hurts to practice, and you can only get better, not worse."
"That's true. I wonder what my parents will think."
"They'll disapprove?"
"It's probably not ladylike."
The first meeting of the new duelling club was scheduled for Sunday afternoon in the Great Hall. There were a decent number of students present. Upper years were more prevalent than ickle firsties and second years. All the four houses were well-represented. There was a platform erected, but nothing resembling the highly decorative duelling stage Professor Lockhart had requisitioned for the one meeting of his own ill-fated club.
In a way, Harry reflected, he ought to thank Lockhart for his foolishness. If not for him, Harry might never have been told what his ability to speak to snakes really meant. Draco had conjured a snake in their demonstration, but the only real one Harry had ever seen was at the zoo, and who knew when he'd go visit the zoo with Draco or Pansy or Daphne? Honestly, there might be dozens or hundreds of wizards who could speak to snakes, but it was just that there weren't any snakes to talk to.
"Do you think I should get a pet snake?" Harry asked Draco.
"That could be fun, but I bet Regal would try to eat it."
"That's a shame."
"Why do you want a snake?"
"I don't really. Just thinking about the last time we had a Duelling Club. No conjuring snakes, okay?"
Draco smirked. "Of course, my man," he said pompously with a wave of his hand. "Only purely innocent hexes and curses will issue from my wand."
"Yeah, not that one you tried to use on Moody last year. You still haven't told us what it was."
"And I'm not going to."
Professor Umbridge climbed the stairs to the stage and cleared her throat.
"Hem, hem."
The audience grew quiet. Professor Umbridge had been quite intense in class. Everyone was eager to see how she would perform in an extra-curricular activity.
"Thank you all for coming to the first meeting of the Ministry Youth club. We are all here because we support the efforts of the Ministry to fight back against the threat posed by You-Know-Who."
Harry wondered at that. A lot of the people around him were looking at each other confusedly. They thought they were here to practice duelling.
Professor Umbridge continued. "We wish to become better, stronger witches and wizards than what we are." She gave a winsome sort of smile that was supposed to be endearing. "I will not hesitate to confess that my own duelling skills could use with a little polish."
Her admission drew a couple of chuckles from the students. She had mentioned the one word everyone cared about.
"We will work together, strive with one purpose here: to stand up and defy the Dark Lord and his agents. They would bind us in the chains of fear and misery, oppression and servitude. We will not go quietly! No, we will take as many of them with us as we can. We are free only so long as we refuse to let them win.
"The Dark times are here again, and we must be ready. You go out from Hogwarts into the world, and it is a dangerous place. The skills we will practice here may one day save your lives. Not just when you finish your seventh year, but when you are home for the holiday."
That got a reaction. Lots of people felt insulated from the war here at school. They felt safe. They worried about their families, but the notion of being there when something awful happened was clearly new to some of them.
Umbridge's voice grew more and more passionate as she went on. Her eyes got wide and wild.
"So enough! Enough with the talk! Pair off! First and foremost we will learn the Disarming Charm. An opponent without a wand is at a significant disadvantage! The spell is red, as are many hexes and curses. If your opponent tries to use a specific counter and doesn't get it right, the spell will be unimpeded. If your aim is true, he will be disarmed. The incantation is Expelliarmus, and the wand motion is thus! Go to it!"
Harry had perfected the Disarming Charm during his practice for the Tasks. He turned to Draco. "I'm not even bothering."
"Right, mate." Draco had also mastered a variety of spells helping Harry train for the Tasks.
Harry didn't understand why so many of the other students seemed to be plain bad at spellcasting. The Slytherins found hidden rooms in the dungeons and cast the spells over and over again until they got it right. They talked to the upper year students for tips and pointers. What was wrong with all these other houses that they didn't help each other? What was wrong that they didn't work hard at mastering the magic?
"They don't care about our heritage," Draco replied. "They're just muddling through."
Professor Umbridge moved through the crowd, watching, instructing, and taking notes on her clipboard. Her eyes fell on Harry, who was leaning against the wall with Draco, Millie, and Daphne. Pansy, always miserable at Charms, was in need of yet more practice.
"Mister Potter, you are not participating."
"No, ma'am."
"May I ask why not?"
"I've already got this one down pat, thanks. I'm pretty good at duelling, actually. This basic stuff isn't what I need."
"Where did you get so good, Mister Potter?"
"Last year there was this little event called the Triwizard Tournament. You may have heard about it. I was one of the Champions, if you recall, so I did a lot of preparing for the Tasks. I made it through the Maze, duelled Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory. I also won the tournament," he added off-handedly.
"Mister Potter, watch your cheek. Very well, I will accept that you are more than a beginner, but what about these three others I see?"
"We helped Harry train," Draco said instantly. "He wouldn't be near as good as he is without our help, because we too are awesome."
"Mister Malfoy, mind your cheek. Fine. I hadn't considered that some of you would be bored. You four are dismissed for the evening. I must think about this."
Not ones to waste opportunity, the four Slytherins high-tailed it out of the Great Hall as Professor Umbridge continued moving through the crowd of students dispensing praise and criticism.
"Well, that was good fortune," Daphne said with a giggle. "Something good came out of the tourney."
"I'm just as glad to have the time back," Draco said. "We've got to finish our Strengthening Solutions tomorrow, and I'm not done reading yet."