"So, Fred 1," one twin said to the other, "how goes our task?"

"Disappointingly slow, Fred 2. Getting past the dog, or 'cerberus', as it's officially called, was surprisingly easy once we knew the trick. Who would have thought that muggle myths held a semblance of the truth?"

"Indeed. The Devil's Snare was also surprisingly easy once we were no longer caught by surprise. Damn thing threw us back into the dog's lair the first time."

"The keys, though, have proven surprisingly tricky. Neither of us have seeker reflexes, and those keys are a right deal more ferocious than bludgers or snitches."

"So, what do you suggest, George 2?"

"I see two options, George 1. Either we find someone to help us…"

"Which would risk exposing someone else to our secret operation of getting into as much trouble as possible."

"Or we try and hone our seeker skills."

"We're rather regretting letting Bill and Charlie handle seeking duties every time, aren't we?"

"Indeed, brother. Well, better late than never; let's try and catch some practice snitches at our next opportunity."

As Harry and Hermione entered the Great Hall that morning, Harry's attention was immediately drawn to the different atmosphere in the room.

"What's going on?" He whispered to Hermione. "Why is everything in here so… tense?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm just as out of the loop as you are, you know."

"Right. Given how you act in class, it's easy to forget you actually don't know everything."

"Prat." She muttered as she began loading her plate up with waffles and strawberries.

As Harry munched on his sausages, his eyes surveyed the room. Most of the room's tense atmosphere seemed to be focused on the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, and a few of them were in a uniform, despite the fact that it was the weekend. Though it didn't look like a standard uniform, either, which just raised more questions.

"There you are!" Tracey's energetic voice all but shouted. "I can't believe you two left without us! What kind of friends are you!?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "The kind who were roped into a friendship against their will?"

"Details, details. So, are you guys excited for today?"

"Yeah, what is going on, anyways? I can tell that people are very tense, but neither Hermione nor I know what's going on."

"Wow, you guys really are out of the loop. You see, today is the day of the greatest realisation of the schools ridiculous inter-house rivalry: the Gryffindor – Slytherin Quidditch game!"

"What's Quidditch?" Hermione asked.

Tracey looked gobsmacked. "Neither of you know what Quidditch is?"

"Uh, Ron tried to explain it to me on the Hogwarts Express, but I honestly found his explanation pretty hard to follow. I know that there are several different roles and that it's played on brooms, but he went on too many tangents for me to honestly follow the rest of what he was saying." Harry explained.

"He's not a very coherent person." Hermione mumbled under her breath.

Harry jabbed her with his elbow. "Play nice!" He hissed.

"Alright!" Tracey said. "Here's how it works!"

One extremely convoluted explanation later, Harry spoke up. "Well, that was slightly more comprehensible than Ron's explanation."

"I'm sorry," Hermione interrupted, "but you mean to tell me that in a sport based mostly on teamwork, there is a role that requires no coordination with other team members, and their actions are worth fifteen times the actions of the other team members, and their actions end the game!?"

"Correct." Daphne said, speaking up for the first time that morning. "And that is exactly why Quidditch is dumb."

"It does sound kind of dumb…" Harry admitted. "Or at least horribly unbalanced."

"There are other variations of the game that are less stupid." Daphne continued. "Quodpot is played without seekers or snitches, and the game ends on a timer. Some teams in New Zealand have also started playing a variant in which the seeker is able to act as an extra chaser when not following the snitch, and the snitch is worth ten percent of their team's accumulated points, rather than a flat one-fifty."

"That sounds much more sensible," Hermione said, "even if it's even more convoluted."

"Wizards do seem to love being convoluted." Harry admitted.

"If you spoilsports are done being lame," Tracey interrupted, "then we should get ready to go. It's the first game of the year, and our house team is playing, so I'm requiring you to go. You need to be exposed to Quidditch at least once."

Harry was impartial, but Hermione groaned.

"Do we have to?" She complained. "I don't even like Muggle sports, let alone wizard ones with stupid rules."

"Yes, you have to. Be thankful that I'm not making you get dressed up in some stupid 'team spirit' style outfit."

Hermione shuddered at the thought of that. "Fine, but I reserve the right to complain as much as I want."

Tracey waved her off. "That's basically what it's like any time I drag Daphne to a game. What's a little more whining?"

"This is stupid." Hermione mumbled. "I could be in the library studying, but no, instead I have to be out in the frigid Scottish autumn watching a bunch of people play with balls in the air… Stupid sports games and their stupid ubiquitousness. I was hoping to escape sports when I left the muggle world but the wizarding world is just as dumb about it…"

"Is she normally this vocal when she's frustrated?" Daphne asked.

"No," Harry replied, "normally she just gets all broody for a while. She doesn't usually mutter while she does so."

"She must really hate sports."

"She probably hates Tracey for making her attend a sporting event, as well."

"It's a good thing Tracey doesn't care whose ire she's drawn at any given time, then."

Harry laughed. "You know, Daphne, you're pretty nice when you're not being all bristly and off-putting."

"I could say the same, Potter."

"You can call me Harry, you know."

"I'm well aware that I can."

"I am able to identify a non-answer when I hear one, you know."

"Glad to know that you've got a bare minimum of wits about you. You may make a better verbal sparring partner than Tracey at this rate. You're already less annoying than her."

Harry glanced over at the hyperactive brunette. "I think that's somewhat faint praise."

Daphne smirked. "Good to see that you're learning something, even if it's not etiquette."

Harry groaned. "Etiquette is so boring, though!"

"It's important. Now, stop your complaining; We're here, and I suspect Tracey's about to start monologuing about Quidditch."

As if on cue, Tracey turned around in the stadium entrance and began speaking. "I hope you guys are ready for this. The Gryffindor-Slytherin matches are supposed to be really cutthroat. This should be a great example of the sorts of chaos that can result from putting two teams of people who hate each other in the air with flying cannonballs. I certainly look forward to it."

"So, what do you think?" Tracey whispered in Harry's ear once the game was in play.

"Honestly, the game is pretty fascinating to watch, even if I think some of the rules are dumb."

"It's pretty interesting to see what you can learn about people by watching them in a game."

Harry raised an eyebrow, so Tracey continued speaking.

"Look at the Weasley twins, for example. The two pretend to be the same person almost all the time, but in here, you can see that one of them is clearly sporting a more aggressive playstyle. From this, I can assume that the two of them play up the 'identical twin' behaviour for their own amusement, but they are, in fact, different, even if only slightly."

"They're highly coordinated, though."

"Any good pair of beaters is highly coordinated. And I'm sure that even if they aren't exactly the same, they still have the advantage of knowing each other better than most siblings do."

"The Slytherin team is clearly having cohesion issues, though even I could have predicted that." Harry commented.

"Yeah, Pucey and Warrington are basically leaving Flint out of most of their plays. None of them are very happy with each other."

"Really?"

"Haven't you seen them hexing each other in the common room."

Harry shrugged. "It's been hard to keep track of who's mad at whom, honestly."

"You're missing out on some juicy stuff, then, Harry."

"I think my life has enough juice in it, thanks. Now, what's going on with the only players who matter?"

"Higgs is a decent seeker. His eyes are good, but he's not good at a lot of the dangerous seeking moves that high end players use to succeed."

"…Seriously? Why is this sport allowed at school if it's dangerous."

"Wizards lack common sense." Hermione butted it.

"I mean, that's the only explanation I can think of that justifies the snitch being worth fifteen goals." Harry said.

"Hmph." Tracey pouted. "Y'all are just haters."

"So who's the Gryffindor seeker?" Harry asked.

Tracey squinted at the field. "I think it's the blonde kid shouting and gesturing wildly at Wood. I'm pretty sure he's new, but I have no idea what his name is."

"McLaggen." Hermione butted in again.

Tracey shot her an incredulous look. "I thought you hated sports."

Hermione sniffed. "It's not like there's much else to do in this frigid November weather. Besides, half of the stuff the commentator's been saying are complaints about they guy. The other half are slanders against our house."

"Yeah, Jordan's not too fond of our house. If it weren't for the fact that McGonagall secretly finds it funny, he'd never be allowed to commentate."

"So we're stuck here watching two teams hindered by the incompetence of a few of their players fly around each other until someone catches the magic golden ball and wins the game?" Hermione asked.

"Well, sure, it sounds dumb when you phrase it that way." Tracey said. "Besides, that Laggen fellow is almost certainly not going to catch the snitch. He's way too busy trying to lecture the rest of his team on how to play the game."

"So the outcome is a foregone conclusion, then. Why are we even here?"

"Because Tracey likes to torment us." Daphne spoke up for the first time since the match started.

Tracey pouted again.

"It's dumb." Daphne defended. "Honestly, they took something as fun and exhilarating as flying and made it unbearable. I wish Hogwarts had a broom racing team like Beauxbatons."

Harry perked up. "That does sound fun, and a lot less ridiculous."

Daphne gave a rare grin. "Come by Greengrass manor this summer and we can see if your flying skills really are all that."

Harry grinned back. "You're on."

"That was an awful showing." Draco complained. "We should have had their team to rights, but not only did our seeker fail to catch the snitch, he hindered the whole team. He should be taken off the team and replaced with someone who can do the job right!"

"Did you have anyone particular in mind, Draco?" Ernie asked tentatively.

"Well, I would be an excellent seeker, but stupid Dumbledore won't let first-years join the team."

"Well, Quidditch is dangerous, you know-" Neville tried to reason.

"I bet if I asked father, he could put some pressure on Dumbledore to let me join. That old fool owes us that much at least, since he refused to help fix my sorting. Father could even help out our team by getting some new brooms for us. I'm sure that a full set of Nimbus 2000's would help sweeten the deal…"

"I don't think Oliver Wood would take kindly to bribes, Draco…"

"Well, it's not a bribe. The brooms go to the team either way, but it helps put me in their good graces when I actually try out. Consider it practice for the real world, since father always tells me that it's basically the same in politics."

"Are you even a good seeker?"

Draco scoffed. "I'm a wonder on a broom. The Gryffindor team should be honoured that I'm even trying out. Really, I don't even belong in this house, you know."

Neville held in a sigh, but only barely. "So you've told us, Draco. Many times."

Sensing another rant about the Hat incoming, Ernie and Neville exchanged a glance and bit their tongues.

As if on cue, Draco began rambling. "That stupid Hat thinks it's so smart, sorting all the students wrong. Once my father figures out how to get rid of the thing, he'll have it destroyed with fiendfyre. That would teach the dodgy thing right…"

"Well that was a colossal waste of time!" Hermione complained as they left the pitch.

"Hey! To be fair, the point margin was pretty narrow. It's rare for a school game to have a team win by only a double digit margin." Tracey defended.

"That's why the game is dumb!" Hermione shrieked. "The Gryffindor team was playing better, but since Higgs caught the snitch, he was able to overcome their seventy point lead and still win the game by a large margin! It's totally absurd that this is a professional sport!"

"Have some team spirit, Granger. We won, after all!" Turpin scowled as she walked past their group.

Hermione scowled back at Turpin. "I'll have team spirit when it's about something important. If Slytherin wins the house cup, I will be all for celebrating, since the house cup actually makes sense!"

"This really set her off, huh?" Daphne asked.

"It seems so." Harry replied. "Like I said, I've never seen her like this before."

"It's nice to see her so passionate." Tracey said. "We should try and coax this side of her out more often."

Harry shot Tracey a look. "I'd rather not deliberately try and send my best friend off on tirades."

"I'm with Potter-" Daphne started.

"I told you to call me Harry." Harry muttered.

"-deliberately setting Granger off doesn't seem like a good idea."

"Fine." Tracey huffed. "Looks like all my good friends are abandoning me, so once again, I'll have to scheme on my own."

Daphne shot Tracey a look. "Keep it clean, Trace."

"Oh, wow! You actually used my nickname! I guess I'm finally breaking down your barriers, after all! My mother will be so pleased to know that I'm finally cracking your frosty facade."

Daphne sighed as the group fell back into silence, Hermione's continuing rant against Quidditch notwithstanding.

"…And honestly, sporting events just cause people to lose their minds. I swear, if I find out that wizarding sports fans riot the same way that muggles do, then I'll…"

Harry concluded that having friends was a weird experience.

A few days after the Quidditch game, Albus sat in his office doing parchmentwork. He'd had to spend a lot more time this year doing parchmentwork than he would have preferred. Unfortunately, Lucius's constant pestering in the first few weeks of the year seriously set him back in his duties. Now he was stuck in his office filling out forms instead of being able to move around the castle at his leisure. He really missed acting mysterious in front of students for his own amusement. There were few things more amusing than silently appearing behind a student who was clearly in the middle of breaking the rules, then offering them some meaningless and often baffling platitudes while his eyes sparkled, then vanishing. It was Dumbledore's biggest guilty pleasure, and therefore he could never, ever let Minerva find out about it.

Thankfully, he was almost caught up on his backlog of work, so with any luck, he'd be able to get back to his usual antics in a few weeks. If he hurried, he may even be able to get in more than a week of acting mysterious around students before the term ended.

As he finished his current stack of parchmentwork and prepared to move onto the next stack, the wards alerted him that someone was outside is office. He gave a signal for the Gargoyle to move aside and began filling out the forms. As he was finishing the first page, the last voice he wanted to hear cut through the subtle cacophony of the various instruments in his office.

"Headmaster Dumbledore."

Albus barely managed to refrain from sighing. He put on his best grandfatherly face and greeted his unwelcome guest.

"Hello, Lucius. What can I do for you on this fine day?"

"I have a new request from the board of governors."

Well, there went his next few hours. Albus simply hoped whatever work backlog this caused wouldn't eat into his time through the start of next term. Albus waved his hand for Lucius to continue.

"The board would like to request an exemption…"

Oh, not this shite again…

"…From the usual prohibition for first year students playing Quidditch so that my son, Draco Malfoy, can apply for his house's team."

…Or not.

That was unexpected. It was blatant favouritism, that much was sure. But compared to plenty of things Lucius could have requested, it was tame. It wasn't as though he was requesting an exemption for all pureblood students, just this one. It was still a student with obvious connections to the board, but it only gave an exemption to apply for the team, not necessarily be on the team.

Not to mention that young Mister Malfoy was a Gryffindor, and if he got on the team and won them the cup, then Draco's name would go down on the records in the school's trophy room as a Gryffindor. Hell, he'd go down in history as the youngest seeker since the late eighteen hundreds, and the name his house team would inevitably appear alongside his name. That alone was tempting, just for the irony.

And lastly… Albus's gaze was drawn to the infernal stacks of parchmentwork that he'd been trying to catch up on for almost two months. The thought of having to deal with further work backlog made Albus decide to get Lucius out of his hair by doing the last thing the man would have expected: agree with him.

"You know what, Lucius? I think that's a splendid idea. Why don't you go talk this over with your son? I'm sure you would love the opportunity to be able to inform him of this gracious opportunity yourself. No need to waste any more of your highly valuable time with me, after all."

Lucius was taken back by Albus's agreeability on this matter, and almost objected out of reflex.

"I don't… Very well, if you're sure…"

"Quite sure, Lucius, quite sure." Albus said as he rose from his chair. He put and hand on Lucius's back and began aggressively guiding him out of the room as he continued speaking. "This is a tremendous, not to mention historic, opportunity for your son. Youngest seeker in a century, I believe! I'm sure you're simply dying to break the news to him so you'd best be off!" Albus gently shoved Lucius out of his office, slammed the door shut, and wandlessly locked it.

Once he was done, Albus let out a deep sigh and slumped against the closed door. Thank Merlin he'd managed to only lose a few minutes of his time. For a second, he was afraid that Lucius hadn't given up on the resorting and had a whole new list of ridiculous demands. He stared at the remaining stacks of parchmentwork. He knew from experience that glaring at them would not magically fill them out, but he still wished it would. Letting out one final sigh, he wandered back to his desk and began filling out forms once again.

Being responsible sucked, sometimes.

"Why do purebloods need so many damned forks?" Harry asked as he looked through another one of the etiquette books Daphne foisted on them.

"Upper-class muggles are just as ridiculous, if it helps you feel better." Hermione replied.

Harry shook his head. "It makes me feel worse actually. Does money make people screwy in the head?"

"I've long suspected it, to be honest. Combine lack of sense from money with lack of sense from magic, and, well, it's no wonder Magical Britain is a mess."

"Hey," Daphne sniped, "Less complaining, more reading."

"Yeah, yeah." Harry replied noncommittally.

"The forks thing is pretty ridiculous, though." Daphne conceded under her breath.

Harry smiled, but didn't reply. It was always good to be vindicated in the face of absurdity.

"Look, Malfoy," Oliver Wood said, "are you really up to this? I'd rather not waste time training a new seeker when the season's already begun."

"Well, do you want another repeat of that last game with McLaggen? Whatever flying talent he has is wasted since he spent the whole game lecturing the team."

Wood grimaced. "That's true, but still… Fine. Let's see how you handle yourself on a broom."

As Oliver watched Malfoy take to the skies, the rest of the team came over. After watching the boy run through a few drills, he decided to get their opinion.

"How do you think he looks?" He asked them.

"Average." One twin said.

"Slightly above average." The other twin countered.

"He's a worse flier than McLaggen." Alicia offered.

"A worse flier," Katie said, "but could be possibly be worse at teamwork?"

"Seeker's a solitary role. So long as he doesn't interfere, he should be a reasonable player." Angelina added.

"Do we really trust a Malfoy on our team, though?" The first twin asked.

That was the real question, and the one Oliver didn't have an answer to.

Well, if McLaggen continued to sabotage their chances of winning the cup, then Malfoy really would be an improvement.

"We'll let him in on a trial basis, I think. He'll play the next game, and if he's better than McLaggen, we'll give him the starting seeker slot."

"It won't be hard to be better than McLaggen." Katie scoffed.

"You know, Fred," the second twin piped up, "methinks that our ickle Malfoy is going to get a bit of an ego after this."

"A Malfoy?" The other twin replied. "With an ego? Say it ain't so, brother!"

Wood sighed. The kid probably would get an ego over this, but if they had a chance at the cup, then he didn't really care. Nothing was more important than Quidditch, after all.

"This information is useless!" Harry shouted. "I almost think I'd rather be studying Quidditch than this tripe!"

Daphne raised an eyebrow at his outburst, while Hermione glared at him for mentioning "the sport which must not be named".

"Hey, I said 'almost'." He clarified, to which Hermione let out a soft huff and went back to her book.

"Do you have a problem with my lessons, Potter?" Daphne asked.

"Don't get me wrong, I appreciate a lot of the stuff you've taught us. The finance was especially helpful; I had no idea that a galleon was worth as much as twenty pounds sterling, a bit of info I'm still surprised you knew, by the way."

"My family does imports and exports. Plenty of raw materials for the magical world come through muggle suppliers. Knowing the exchange rate is fundamental knowledge if I want to take over the family business."

Harry shook his head at Daphne's constant adult-ness. He'd noticed he was mature for his age (probably due to his harsh upbringing), but being around Daphne and Hermione made him constantly feel like a child, and not in the way he'd always yearned for.

"Anyways, while you've covered a lot of practical knowledge, a lot of the high society stuff doesn't seem useful for us."

"It is if you plan on attending social functions."

"Daphne, we're eleven-"

"I'm twelve." Hermione quietly added.

"-and Hermione and I live with muggles. Knowing how to act in a high-society pureblood functions is not practical knowledge for us at this stage. Teach us later if you have to, but I think we should stick to the practical stuff."

"Of course you'd want 'practical knowledge'," Hermione teased, "You're never happy in class unless you're waving your wand."

Daphne tilted her head, the closest she got to an expression of emotion under most circumstances. "I suppose you have a point. I think I've covered most of the basics, anyways. Are you fine with us putting our lessons on hold for a while?"

"Yes!" Harry shouted as soon as she finished talking. "I'd like to go back to my library time just being generic studying."

"Studying…" Hermione said. "Studying! Oh Merlin, term exams are just half a month away! I've got to study for them!"

Harry gave Hermione an incredulous look. "Hermione, you memorised every textbook for our classes. What could you possible need to study for?"

"It's the principle of the matter!"

"Principle of the… It's a waste of your time! You know all the material thanks to your mind magic thing! If you study for exams, you'd just be wasting time you could be spending actually learning new stuff!"

Hermione paled. "I… I never thought of it that way. I have been wasting time, haven't I? Oh gosh, I need to go rearrange my schedule!"

"If you're still studying, then why do you need to…?" He tried to ask her retreating form, though she clearly didn't hear him.

Daphne took the vacant seat next to him. "You've got quite a weird assortment of friends, don't you, Harry?"

Harry felt a flash of vindication at him using his first name, but addressed the rest of her statement instead. "You know, you're counted among my 'weird assortment of friends'?"

"Oh, I am well aware. I shed any misconceptions about my weirdness ages ago. Being weird can't bother me if I accept it, after all."

Harry's eyes didn't stray from his book, but he wasn't reading the words. His brain was instead running through what Daphne had just said. Things not bothering him if he accepted them. Perhaps there was some wisdom there that he could use.

A/N: Quidditch is very, very dumb. Seriously, the seeker position is ridiculous. The "New Zealand" version of Quidditch was borrowed from DP&SW, one of the only fics I've read to actually have sensible Quidditch rules.

Harry and Daphne meshed together surprisingly well. I'm enjoyed their interactions so much that Hermione and Tracey kind of got overshadowed (for once).

The bit with Draco becoming seeker was totally unplanned. I had to improvise it out of nowhere when I realised I didn't have enough content to fill the chapter. As a result, the resulting scene with Lucius and Dumbledore was also unplanned, though I enjoyed it tremendously. Dumbledore is Dumbledone with this bullshit.

I also published another fic, for those of you who may be interested in reading a more serious work (I say "more serious" because, despite several people classifying Scrambled Sorting as a crack fic, I do consider it a semi-serious work. I just haven't gotten to most of the serious bits yet). It's called Departure from the Diary, and is an AU end to the second year of canon with a female Riddle and female Voldemort. The story will eventually be Harry/fem!Riddle, though it will be a slow burn. The first six chapters are posted already, so check it out if you're interested.