"Defeat is not an option! Failure has no place amongst us, lads! We shall not be—"
"Oliver, darling, I love you. But if you don't stop, I'm going to hit you over the head with this bat."
Oliver Wood abruptly shut up and cast his teammate a betrayed look.
Angelina Johnson pierced him with a disapproving glare. "Secondly, the three of us have been over this," she emphasised, gesturing to Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet. "You can't refer to the entire team as lads. It's disrespectful and quite frankly archaic."
Katie yawned and nodded in agreement. "Angie's right. Besides, it's seven am and as riveting and stirring as your little speeches are, let's just skip to practice, please? How about you save that one for the actual match?"
Oliver had the decency to blush. He rubbed the back of his neck and grumbled. "Okay! But I'll need an extra half hour that day."
"It's a deal."
"Alright, people. Let's move it."
Harry decided it was quite amusing to see the normally sharp Gryffindor captain caught off guard. He was glad at least one of them had been brave enough to inform Oliver what they all really thought about his enthusiastic speeches.
Wood had booked the quidditch pitch for practice every alternate morning. Sometimes, Ron and Hermione would come along as well to cheer the team on.
It was going to be a brilliant season. Gryffindor was going to be unstoppable—
"What the fuck is this supposed to be?"
Seven figures stood huddled in the centre of the pitch, dressed in robes of green and silver and clearly in the middle of what was a pre-practice discussion.
The tallest of the lot turned around and sneered at them. "Language, Wood. That's no way to address a fellow captain."
If murder was legal, Harry would bet his Nimbus that Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint would have killed each other half a dozen times already.
But it was someone else who caught his eye.
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"
"Allow me to introduce our new seeker."
Malfoy smirked at Harry, the smugness practically emanating from his very person. "Scared, Potter?"
"You wi—"
"Is that the new Nimbus 2001?" Ron wasn't quite successful in masking his awe.
Clutched in Draco's hand was the Nimbus 2001, an upgrade to Harry's Nimbus 2000. But that wasn't all. Every single player on the Slytherin team had one.
"A kind and thoughtful gift from Draco's father," Flint explained, condescension dripping from his words.
"You see Weasley, my father is a generous man and so he made certain the team got what it rightfully deserved. Because unlike some, my father can afford the best."
The taunt wasn't lost on Ron or the twins, and given the way the youngest Weasley's face flushed, Draco's words had made their mark.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in because earned it, because they rightfully deserved it." Hermione glared at Draco, the truth ringing in her words.
The twins snorted and even someone at the back of the Slytherin team sniggered.
Draco's smugness dissolved, an increasingly ugly sneer replacing it. Anger, embarrassment and humiliation coloured his face.
"Nobody," his voice was no louder than a venomous hiss, "nobody asked for your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."
There was a collective sharp inhale at the moment Draco uttered that vile word. Hermione flinched harshly, tears springing to her eyes almost immediately.
"You take that back," Ron's voice shook with simmering rage.
Harry didn't know what that word meant. He hadn't heard it before but judging by everyone's reactions, it was downright awful. He had never seen Ron that angry.
"You apologise now, Malfoy," Harry snapped. Just because he didn't know what the word was, didn't mean he had to stay quiet. Hermione didn't deserve to hear such things.
"Or what? I called her what she is. Nothing more than a mudblood. In fact, I'd say the three of you deserve each other."
Draco's expression belied something uglier than his usual scorn. "A mudblood, a pauper and an orphan."
The last word knocked the wind right out of him, a fresh wave of pain and hurt so strong it threw him off kilter.
How many times had he heard that word growing up at Privet Drive?
His aunt and uncle, Dudley, his cousin's friends, even the teachers at his primary school had taunted him.
Orphan
Freak
Freaky orphan boy
He saw red.
Harry pulled his arm back and punched Draco squarely in the nose.
The unmistakable crunch of the bone breaking was followed by the blond boy's cry of pain. Draco howled, his hands shooting up to cover the area, tears springing to his eyes at the impact of the blow.
"You little bastard!" Flint lunged to grab Harry by the front of his robes.
"Oh no you don't!" Oliver stepped in front, pushing Harry behind him. "Your seeker crossed a line, and you know it."
"Yet it was your boy who attacked first."
The two Quidditch captains were nose to nose, brown eyes locked with jade green in an inscrutable battle. The tension in the air was palpable. One tiny move from either captain and things would go to hell.
"That is quite enough! Cease this at once!"
There were a number of things Minerva Mcgonagall would've preferred doing that morning instead of grading homework that had been turned in late. She wouldn't have minded an extra hour of sleep but that would mean putting it off for the weekend and she definitely didn't want that.
So she sat by the window in her office on the second floor, quill in her hand and winced at a particularly painful error in Miss Parkinson's essay.
The office afforded her a splendid view of the Quidditch pitch, the wide green expanse coupled with the cool breeze creating a wonderfully calming atmosphere in the morning.
At least that was until she heard the shouting.
Minerva would've very much preferred to ignore the sound and continue her work, but she couldn't in good conscious allow disregard for school rules and regulations. Ever the stickler for discipline, stood up to get a better look out of the window.
What she saw had her cursing under her breath, words that would've certainly appalled her dear late mother enough to wash her daughter's mouth out.
Without any delay she strode out of her office, shutting the door behind her.
It was a fairly long walk from her office to the pitch, but Minerva was armed with a strong sense of determination and the necessity to nip any growing misbehaviour at the bud.
She got to the field in record time, to find the two rival teams head to head.
Almost literally.
"That is quite enough! Cease this at once!"
All heads turned in her direction. That's when she noticed young Mr. Malfoy clutching his nose. Questions could wait. The boy needed to see Poppy immediately.
"You, take Mr. Malfoy to Madam Pomfrey. Captains, perhaps the two of you might like to explain the situation."
Adrian Pucey obediently grabbed one of Draco's arms, draped it over his shoulder and began the trek towards the Hospital Wing.
She faced the two captains, arms crossed over her chest and raised an eyebrow expectantly.
"Potter violently assaulted Draco!" Flint burst out.
"Violently assaulted? Could you be any more dramatic?"
"How would you describe his actions then, Wood?"
"I'd say the little cu—brat more than earned it." The Gryffindor captain warily glanced at Mcgonagall, wondering if she'd noticed his slip up.
Of course she had.
"That's five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Wood."
She finally turned towards the young Potter lad. "Potter, I trust you have a better explanation for your behaviour."
"He had it coming," Harry replied stubbornly, surprising even himself with his sudden boldness.
Mcgonagall's lips pressed into a thin line at the boy's attitude. "I see. Once Mr. Malfoy is dismissed from the Hospital Wing, I will call his parents. We will write to your godfather as well, Mr. Potter. Perhaps then the two of might deign to be more forthcoming with the details."
Great, just great.
"Come with me."
Sirius had an early meeting that morning at the DMLE. He'd reached the Ministry at around seven where he ran into Amelia Bones.
When they'd first started working together, he had been ninety-five percent sure that she hated him. Now, he was down to sixty-two percent.
He considered it an absolute win.
Sirius had been working at the Auror department for nearly four months now. He'd mostly gotten accustomed to the mixed looks that followed him everywhere.
He was immune to their hateful glares, having received those since he was a bloody teenager.
Their distrust didn't faze him either because once again, he had more than two decades' worth of experience with that.
What really got on his nerves was their pity.
The Auror department itself liked him well enough and so did a good portion of the younger employees in the entire Ministry. Some of them a tad too much.
The Incident™️had made that perfectly clear.
During the meeting, his eyes strayed more than once to the empty chair on the other side of the round table, grim satisfaction soothing the anger that flared up every time he thought of the loathsome man in question.
Bartemis Crouch Senior was a despicable piece of excrement.
When the whole debacle with Sirius not having received a fair trial came to light, an inquiry had been launched, to probe deeper into the seemingly stalwart Ministry official's workings. Until the completion of the investigation, Mr. Crouch would remain suspended.
In fact, it was Amelia Bones who had initiated it.
The meeting ran long. If nothing else, Sirius learned that Jonathan Clearwater loved the sound of his own voice.
Three hours and many disagreements later, they were finally able to close the session. Sirius, Amelia and the others who had actual work to be done that day exited the room while those who were idle remained behind to gossip.
"Auror Black!"
Sirius turned to see the receptionist running towards him. "This arrived while you were busy, sir."
He took the letter from the frazzled man, mildly surprised when he saw the Hogwarts crest.
He immediately opened the letter and recognised Minerva Mcgonagall's precise handwriting. His eyes scanned the contents, eyebrows drawing together in a frown as he read on.
He folded the parchment in half and tucked it into his pocket.
"When did you receive this letter?"
"About an hour ago, sir."
"And you waited for that long before handing it to me?" Sirius levelled the receptionist with a mild glare. The poor chap—Julian something— sputtered nervously, scrambling to come up with a reasonable explanation.
"Uh s—"
"Just let Scrimgeour know I'll be late today." He wasn't angry, not truly. Just a little thrown by what he had gleaned from the letter. To be honest, Sirius probably should've seen it coming.
And in all fairness, it wasn't Julian's fault.
"All okay?" Madam Bones asked as they made towards the elevator.
"It appears my godson got into a fight with another student this morning."
"What happened?"
"Mcgonagall didn't say. Just that there was a disagreement that escalated between the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams."
"Maybe Harry's more like his godfather than either of you imagined." Amelia remarked with a smirk.
That thought didn't ease Sirius one bit. He remembered what he was like as a child.
"Yeah you have a good laugh about it, Bones. I need to go since the parents have been called to discuss the altercation at length."
"I can't say I envy you right now."
Haha
"Just don't let your temper get the better of you."
Sirius frowned at Amelia. "You know I never do that with Harry."
"I wasn't talking about Harry. Merlin knows the lad's a sweetheart. I was referring to the other parents, whoever they may be."
Did everyone think he was that overprotective?
The silence in Mcgonagall's office was suffocating. That was the only word that came to Harry's mind.
Harry, Mcgonagall, Snape, Draco and his parents were all sitting in Mcgonagall's office, waiting for Sirius to arrive.
Twenty minutes had passed since Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had shown up to find their son with a broken nose. The woman had briefly fussed over the boy until she was sufficiently reassured that Draco was alright.
Madam Pomfrey had wrapped the bridge of Malfoy's nose in a specially charmed bandage that would accelerate the healing process and within the end of the week, he would be good as new.
Harry was almost disappointed.
Of course triumph was the last thing on his mind when he risked a glance at the icy fury on Lucius Malfoy's face.
Harry had seen the senior Malfoy once in passing when he'd gone with Sirius to buy his books for the second year. Draco looked exactly like his father, save for his mother's eyes.
Narcissa Malfoy was frankly scary. She was tall, slender and beautiful in a way that made the opposite person keenly aware of their own shortcomings. Her sharp aristocratic features, expensive robes and perfectly done platinum blond hair only served to further intimidate onlookers.
Harry had never seen her in person before, though he recognised her from Sirius' childhood photographs.
Narcissa was elegant and self-assured in a manner her husband tried but couldn't quite emulate and Draco hadn't learnt yet. Unlike Lucius, she didn't glare at Harry. Her posture was calm as they waited.
What was taking Sirius so long?
Briefly, Harry wondered if he'd perhaps annoyed his godfather enough that the man wasn't going to bother coming.
No.
Sirius wasn't like that. Of that he was certain. Which only meant that his godfather was genuinely busy.
Backed by his parents, it would appear Draco's arrogance knew no bounds, judging by the way he lounged in his chair, not bothering to hide his supercilious smirk.
The only other occupant in the room Harry liked even less than Draco was Snape.
They were seated around a table in the Transfiguration Professor's office. Harry would wager that it was only Professor Mcgonagall's indomitable presence which kept the Potions master's usual acerbic remarks in check.
Spoke too soon.
"It's obvious Potter's guardian holds no regard for time. While he is free to do what he pleases— as he always has— some of us have more useful things to do."
"Severus is correct," Lucius added, unable to control himself anymore. "I don't see anything worth discussing. Potter's actions demand severe pu—"
The floo roared to life, drowning out the rest of Malfoy's rant.
Harry's godfather stepped out of the fireplace and surveyed the room. If he was surprised by the Malfoys, he didn't show it. His sharp grey eyes lingered a second longer on Draco's bandaged nose before settling on Harry.
The man offered him a hint of a smile and then nodded pleasantly at Mcgonagall. "Good afternoon, Minnie. And to you, Narcissa. It's been a while, hasn't it, cousin?"
The woman nodded curtly, recalling all too well the last time they had all been together in the same place. The entire family.
Despite being late, he didn't appear the least bit hassled or out of breath. Sirius was perfectly at ease as he strode confidently around the table and took the remaining seat next to Harry.
"Thank you for waiting for me," he spoke smoothly, leaning back in his chair to look the Malfoy couple in the eye.
"So what's all this about?"
Okay...
Here's my take on what could've happened in the Second Year in a different world. As I have mentioned, this is canon divergent. Consider this part 5 in the Meeting the Godfather Universe.
I figured I had to write this fic given how much I love Black family drama.
