The one thing he'd been able to take out of his conversation with Sirius was he definitely needed some escapism. Quidditch was good at that, and as it just so happened, this was the year he'd found himself as the Captain of the Gryffindor team.
It hadn't stopped drizzling the entire morning and the sky above them reflected that. It was a wet and miserable day. Of course the weather would turn sour the day of the tryout trials, as if Harry didn't already have his mind preoccupied stressing about that, now he also had to worry about not freezing to death.
"We've got a group of absolute idiots," Ginny whispered to him.
Ginny was proving herself a valuable ally with the tryouts. She'd already broken down the schedule into different sections and done a lot of the other ugly organising Harry hadn't been looking forward to. She'd definitely done a lot of maturing recently. Their planning for team trials was as much time the two spent together since the Chamber of Secrets, and they were actually getting along better than either side expected.
"Right!" Harry yelled. "So, this morning I'm going to be putting you all through some drills just to test your strengths. Come on, quiet, please!"
He doubted anyone could actually hear what he was saying over the rain and wind. The crowd ahead of him was rowdy, composed of Gryffindors of all ages, with Ron stood awkwardly at its centre. His nerves were just about the only thing keeping him alive and moving right now.
"SHUT IT!" Ginny shouted from the side, snapping everyone's attention in her direction.
If only she'd been that forthcoming when they were in the chamber - things might have turned out differently.
"Thanks - " Harry swallowed "- Right, now then, remember just because you made the team last year it does not guarantee you a spot this year. Is that clear?"
As expected, the trials took up most of Harry's morning, and the weather did not improve one bit.
It seemed like half of the entire Gryffindor House had turned up, from first-years nervously clutching their brooms, to seventh-years who towered over the rest of the group. They decided to start a basic, mundane test would be asking all applicants to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. It was a good idea as it turned out; he soon found out at least ten people auditioning had evidently never even flown a broom before. One particular group of ten was comprised of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching each other. Romilda Vane was among them, she was the only one who actually made an effort to listen and obey his commands, which he was thankful for.
After two hours of shouting himself hoarse, so much rain that his face now felt numb, multiple complaints and several tantrums later - one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth - Harry found his team mates; Katie Bell, a safe choice from years previous, and new comers Demelza Robins and Nadia Khanna. He was pleased with his choices, that was until Seamus decided Sam had cheated and tried to put him in the Hospital Wing. Ginny, again, shut them down for him.
Harry deliberately left the trail of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on Ron. Unfortunately his plan backfired, and despite the weather, all the rejected players had joined the crowd in the stands, creating an entire make-shift audience of on-lookers. Harry glanced over to him, who he was fully aware was nervous, and found his guilt matched by the pale shade of green the Weasley's skin had turned.
Surprisingly though, as the rest of the day played out, Ron took everyone by storm. He scored the final extra save over McLaggen, and it had secured him a spot on the team.
It would be different playing Quidditch with Ron, as opposed to just having him sitting on the sidelines, but if it made more time for he and Harry to see each other, then he couldn't go wrong with it.
They were all looking forward to getting back to the common room and celebrating. Even through all his padding, Harry was soaked to his core, he could only imagine what Ron was going through with the added stress on top of that. All he could envision now was that warm fireplace, a handful of butterbeers and the rest of the night flying by in a laughter-coated blur. It would be their first proper time to sit down and have a catch up since term started, which was almost four weeks ago now.
He'd also maybe, finally get a chance to bring up to them his Daphne problem, and this time word his argument better way than he had on the train.
The stadium drained out, and Ron and Hermione left to wait for him under the cover of the tent. He and Ginny were almost done packing away all the equipment they used today. The rest of his night was looking hopeful, but as always, all good things must come to an end.
"Not too late am I?"
Just as he and Ginny had finished securing the last of everything for transport back inside - Tracey Davis, of all people - appeared behind them, decked out head-to-toe in Slytherin Quidditch gear. Before Harry even opened his mouth, he could already feel his hopes of a relaxed evening slipping away from him.
"What are you doing?"
"Tryouts go till four, right? Here I am!"
"This is for the Gryffindor team," Ginny answered for him. "You'll have to talk to Malfoy, he's head of the Slytherin team. We have no say over their team."
"I'm not tryin' to join you lot," Tracey snickered obnoxiously, "... and trails are off. Draco's dropped from the team, it's... frankly, all kind of a mess over there right now."
"Sorry, but that's nothing to do with u-"
"Malfoy's off the team?" Harry interjected, shouting over the rain.
"S'what I said. Now come on, you gonna turn down someone who came all this way in this weather to get trained by you, just 'cause they're in the wrong house?" Tracey scoffed loudly. "Didn't take you lot for the elitist type!"
Ginny glare's matched hers, but just as she opened her mouth to say something, Harry found himself jumping to her side.
"Don't. It's okay. You go back to the castle. Tell Ron and Hermione I'm gonna be late up."
Ginny moved to side of him, trying to seal their conversation from Slytherin ears, but the wind was that strong it likely wouldn't have mattered anyway.
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone with her?"
Harry cracked his mouth and produced a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a cough.
"She's not dangerous. You go. Honestly, it's fine. You did good today."
Ginny looked hesitant, before her mouth perked into a smile and she reluctantly stood down. She packed up the remaining group equipment for him, and after leaving Harry the bare minimum he would need for one-on-one training, began the long walk off the pitch.
He looked Tracey up and down, who was staring back at him with predatory eyes.
"Right," he sighed. "You ever rode a broom before?"
The Slytherin gave him cat-like smirk.
"Please, you're lookin' at the best player in Slytherin!"
In the distance, thunder rumbled across the countryside. The weather was getting worse, if Harry could believe it or not. He wouldn't have had such a problem training Tracey if she'd just turned up at the same time everyone else, but instead he'd be spending his evening flying around in a thunderstorm, rather than relaxing with a plate of Cauldron Cakes in the bath.
"Yet… you've never been on the team before?"
"And play with Draco and his lot?" she shot back in that same obnoxious laugh.
"Are they not on the team this year?"
Tracey shook her head, and moved closer to him to speak more clearly. Harry hesitated to move away from her and stood his ground.
"Draco isn't. Crabbe and Goyle made the cut, but they're tolerable without him."
"Why didn't Malfoy make it?"
Tracey shrugged. She was being surprisingly nonchalant about the whole situation, appearing completely oblivious to Harry's obviously annoyed tone and the harsh weather closing in around them. Whether or not this was an act or not, he couldn't quite figure out.
"Just didn't turn up for trials," she explained. "Whole thing was a mess, nobody knew who was in charge. Snape postponed the whole thing for a week and he's having the final say on who gets what position."
Harry nodded in understanding. Malfoy loved Quidditch, even though his father bought his way onto the team, it was his skill that allowed him to stay. If Malfoy was suddenly done with the sport, that was another thing to add onto his growing suspicions list.
"What position are you hoping to get?" he now had to use shouting as his default voice to be heard over the rain.
"Seeker, obviously!"
Harry considered the girl for a second, giving her a glance up and down. She wasn't particularly built for Quidditch nor did her ditsy energy give any indication of how she'd be on a broom.
"Strike me more as a Chaser."
"Why don't you get on your broom and we'll find out?"
A loose chuckle escaped from his throat, he doubted she heard it.
He gestured for her to follow him. The wind was so strong now that they staggered sideways walking into the centre of the pitch. Harry pulled his foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Firebolt.
"You'll wanna take hat off, then," he said, taking a pair of golden-red goggles out of his pocket and slipping them over his head. "You'll lose it in the wind."
She followed his actions, commanded the remaining broom off the ground and snatched it with both hands, taking on a launch pose. She looked back at him expectantly.
"Hat stays... Better yet, if you beat me, I'll let you take it off me…"
He wasn't sure, but he swore he caught her wink with that last line. He coughed a tickle out of his throat.
"What do you actually want training with?" he pushed. "Don't know why the best player in her house would come just to relearn the basics? And if you're just here for a place on the team, already said we can't help you."
"How about a race?" she asked excitedly.
He itched to roll his eyes.
"If you're just here because you want to mess around on a broom - I've really got better things to be…"
"I wanna be a Seeker, you're a Seeker!" Tracey yelled over the rain. "If I can beat you, then I have a pretty good chance of getting in!"
Harry shook his head. His patience was beginning to wear thin.
"Being a Seeker is about more than being fast," he shot back, "You have to be patient. You have to be able to react at a moment's notice. Being quicker than everyone else is only part of it, you're not just going as fast as you can, you're trying to find something - trying to hunt."
Tracey rose off the ground next to him.
"Then hunt me, Harry Potter!"
There was a pop and she shot into the sky, covering him in the splash back from the rain.
Begrudgingly, he rose into the sky after her. He really wasn't interested in whatever game she was trying to play. It was obvious she wasn't just here for training, but he couldn't decipher any intentions beyond that. As it stood, she was still his best chance at figuring out what was going on with Daphne. If he and her were truly over, which he was adamant they weren't, he doubted her best mate would be trying to put the moves on him already. Then again, she was in Slytherin.
He held his Firebolt steady as he rose into the sky, squinting through the rain. He ducked low and took off in the direction Tracey had departed. Within seconds he was, somehow, soaked through even more, and hardly able to make out the Quidditch stands, never mind her. The sky was getting darker and it wasn't due to their lateness in the year.
It didn't take him long to lose his orientation, the weather had gone from a depressing drizzle to a full-blown storm, it was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. Twice in his soaring he nearly collided with the scoring hoops, mistaking their figure for his target.
As the first flash of lightning came, Harry spotted movement from the corner of his eye. If it had been a second later he'd have been none the wiser, but it had happened at just the right time for him to spot Tracey on her broom making a dive over the stands and into the castle grounds.
Something awoke suddenly inside him, the rain was no longer as much of a bother. That small glimpse was all he needed for a surge of adrenaline to flush his system. The game was now on. He was still numb from the cold and wetter than he'd been in his entire life, but now he had a mind of determination. He soared towards her. She must have seen him coming, as the spot he'd seen her at was vacated when he arrived, but it didn't matter, and he shot through it regardless. He knew what those Hogwarts-issued brooms were like, at the speed she was going she'd have had no time to turn abruptly, which left him with a about a hundred feet to spot her again.
As he crossed over the stands, low and behold, he picked up on a faint green-and-silver figure moving quickly along the grass, speeding towards the lake. Harry headed straight for the ground, tightening himself up against his broom as much as he could. His face was stinging from the rain, even his magical-enchanted goggles were doing him no favour in this visibility. Nevertheless seconds later he was trailing only feet behind her. She then either slowed, or he gained on her again, because now the back of her robes were nipping harshly at his face. There was a blurred streak of colour and motion and she pulled back suddenly, leaving Harry zooming across the castle grounds on his own.
His head snapped up, trying to pin-point her in the air, and caught her taking flight towards the castle. She was good at her manoeuvring, definitely. His Firebolt was at least ten times quicker than her broom, but she was doing a decent job at avoiding him thus far, though admittedly, she was probably aided by the weather.
But she would have to try a lot harder if she thought she could shake him that easily.
He waited for his opportunity and took it when it came. He pulled back on his broom and aimed in her direction, gave himself a second to brace, and was then catapulted forward with incredible force. Tearing upwards through the air beside her, he sent her spiralling off sideways, fighting for control of her broom. He left the girl struggling in his dust, then with a flourishing turn, doubled back on her.
"Gotta try harder than that!" he shouted.
She grinned back at him with cheer on her face.
"Lucky! Bet you can't do that twice!"
He laughed extra loud so that she could hear him over the wind.
"I'll give you a head start then!"
He said that to taunt her, but apparently she didn't need to be told twice. She dropped into a high-speed descent, Harry could hear the distant sound of what he understood to be her laughter.
Honouring his word, he remained hanging in the air a moment longer before racing off after her. By the time he caught her up she had reached the castle and was weaving in and around it's towers and bridges. Technically they weren't allowed to fly in castle airspace, but there was considerably more cover from the elements here than back on the pitch, the dark sky meant it was practically impossible for them to be spotted by the ground, so Harry decided to conveniently forget that rule this one time.
He ducked again, pushing himself forward, manoeuvring around the columns and up a set of stone steps to catch up to her up. His goggles were faring better now that he had the castle between him and the storm. Tracey had deliberately moved their chase here because she knew she didn't stand a chance against him in open air; he respected that decision.
He only just made it over the rooftop as he spied her disappear around the next corner of the castle. They moved to circling each other around the Astronomy tower, which turned into a game of cat and mouse. He hung back, hoping to get her on her second trip round, but she apparently expected to do just that, and suddenly, somehow, she was miles away. He caught a glimpse of her backside disappearing behind the Divination tower.
He hurried to catch up to her, and again, she'd vanished from the scene.
Though his broom was quicker than hers, Tracey clearly knew where she was going, he didn't. She was weaving in and out of the buildings, taking unexpected turns and sudden drops. He didn't put it past her to have planned out a predetermined path deliberately so she could disorientate him, thinking about it. Another far off glimpse and he was off again. This time he did his best to tail her, but every surprise turn or barrel roll continued putting distance between them. Eventually he got around a corner and she was gone all together.
Out of nowhere, there were feathers.
He'd been shooting forward at such a force he'd almost collided with a random, out of place goose that had decided to fly by at that moment, scaring the life out of him.
He slowed, looking around wildly. Brushing his ruined fringe from his eyes, he peered frantically at every crevasse, nook and cranny and trench he could spot nearby. The goose had vanished as quick as it had appeared.
"GOT YA!"
With the force of a thousand enraged Dudley's, a hand made contact with his rear-end. It threw off his broom balance and as he span around mid-air to control it, a cackling laughter fills his ears.
"One-all, Potter! Let's make the next one count!"
"I thought I was chasing YOU!" he shouted blindly into the darkness.
She took off again and with a jolt of adrenaline, he grabbed his broom handle and pelted after her. Despite his tone, and the now-stinging handprint on his bottom, he couldn't deny he was having a good time. She was actually giving him a run for his money - this girl was a natural born seeker.
The rain was loud in his ears, there was a second lightning strike, followed closely by raging thunder. She was clear in his sights, right ahead of him and they just so happened to be passing through an open area between towers. She had nowhere to hide, now was his chance. He flattened himself against this broom. This was the endgame, he was about to show this Slytherin-wannabe who was the Seeker.
Then, rather suddenly, everything was brown.
Harry's mind was racing so quickly it took him a second to distinguish what had happened. Then, snapping back into it, he clawed at his face and dragged Tracey's soaking wet beanie from his goggles. He told her she was going to lose that in the wind, now look, he was careening towards a rooftop.
His heart lodged itself in his throat and held his breath, dragging his broom up at the sharpest angle possible. He growled as he threw himself flat against his Firebolt, willing it to make the turn in time. The quick jolt upwards sent a tingling feeling dancing around his head, which he was then snapped sharply out of when he knees began grazing the rooftop.
He dragged himself free of his near-miss encounter. The fabric on his knees was shredded and there was now a harsh pounding going on somewhere behind his eyes. In five years of playing Quidditch, that was the first time he'd ever given himself whiplash like that. It took him a few seconds of heavy blinking before he was able to properly acknowledge his surroundings. Someone - Tracey, he figured - had pulled up ahead of him and was shouting back if he was alright. He did his best to answer, but quickly turned his attention back to the Quidditch Pitch.
Moments later, they both splashed down into the mud. Mercifully the rain had calmed now. That or maybe his body had just gotten used to the battering and he didn't feel it as much anymore. If things had calmed down, she didn't seem to get the memo.
"Good game, man!" she cheered, slapping him on the back. "You caught my lucky hat!"
Harry mumbled something. His headache didn't stop their hands from meeting in the middle with a manly handshake. He was about to congratulate her on a race well played, maybe even compliment her flying skills, when his attention suddenly wavered.
Tracey had very unusual hair.
Maybe it was just the fact he'd never seen it before and was expecting something different, but it seemed quite unlike any hairstyle he had imagined. Most of her hair was brown, except for a messy blonde patch in the centre of her fringe. If they were in any better visibility he might have been able to tell if the yellow splodge was natural or just the result of a bad dying accident. Then again, he also didn't cross out the involvement of magic.
She tugged her hat from his limp hand and stretched it across her head, completely ignoring it's horrific texture and the squelching noises it made. He forgot about her strange hair almost instantly as the rush of what just happened finally caught up to him.
"That was incredible! I'm gonna have to get the team training early if they want to beat you. You could go for Captain if you wanted it!"
Tracey gave a hard laugh and punched his shoulder.
"I dunno about Captain..." she cracked her knuckles coldly, and then with a big smile added, "... I'm sick, don't get me wrong, but I'm no-good at leadin'."
He laughed out loud. He considered maybe he too harsh on his assuming with his attitude earlier. It wouldn't have been a massive leap of logic to say she deliberately turned up late so she could speak to him one-on-one, he didn't know what her intentions were beyond that, but at this point he had stopped caring altogether. His heart was warm with adrenaline and tingling with happiness. Considering this was his first time hanging around with Tracey that wasn't an anxiety-fueled mess, he actually surprised himself with how much fun he'd just had.
"You're better than half the lot I saw today. Shame you can't play for us."
Tracey dramatically snatched at her chest, mocking a heart-attack.
"I'm flattered!" she cried.
Apparently if they'd waited about twenty minutes he'd have been with a much better chance of winning their chase, as the wind was steadily dying down and the rain was clearing up. Harry sealed up the last few Quidditch supplies as the two continued their banter, and then brooms in-hand, they began the long trek back to the castle.
"You have to let me have a go on that Firebolt sometime!" she exclaimed, walking a few paces ahead of Harry.
He chuckled, nodding.
"It's probably a damn-sight quicker than a Cleansweep."
"This?" she held her broom up in disgust. "This is the schools! I've got a Siberian Arrow back in my dorm."
Harry's mouth fell agape. With the way she held herself and the general energy she gave off around school, he never imagined her owning such a posh and expensive broom.
"The bloody hell are you not doing with it out here?"
"It's just tryouts! I don't want to damage her, she's my baby!" she laughed. "We're not all rich and famous, I had to save up for her!"
Harry chuckled merrily.
"The Firebolt was a gift, actually."
"Mmhmm. Bet so was that Nimbus Two Thousand and One that you ruined."
He winced.
"Well… actually…"
She snorted at him.
"Ohhh check you out with your rich relatives!"
"I thought all Slytherins were born into prestigious, up-their-own-arse families?"
"I come from a Gryffindor family, actually, Potter," she shot back in a ridiculing tone. "And Daphne is awful at buyin' gifts if I don't literally write down what I want from her."
His eyes narrowed at her words.
Didn't she and Daphne have the same mum? Why wouldn't Daphne mention to him that her mum was in Gryffindor? He would make a note to ask her about that later… God knew whenever later would be, though.
A thought swiftly leapt to the forefront of his mind. He was having a good night, he didn't want to ruin it by overstepping his boundaries, but then again… He'd probably regret it if he didn't. What better opportunity was he going to get?
"I've always been particularly good at flyin'..." she eased out with a knowing snicker, "... some would say that I'm quackin' at it."
"Do you know if there's something going on between Malfoy and Daphne, by chance?"
She paused, then guffawed loudly.
"Well that came from nowhere..." she drawled out with a laugh, "Didn't take you for the jealous type."
"I'm not the jealous type."
Tracey gave a bemused long pause, as if she was trying to read his face.
"Then why're you askin'?"
His nose crinkled. He tried to scrounge up a good explanation, but found his mind drawing a blank.
"Cause I think Malfoy is up to something and I'm worried Daphne is involved."
He chewed hard on the inside of his cheek. That was a weak response and they both knew it.
"Gryffindors really don't believe in beatin' around the bush, do you?"
She was laughing at him.
Harry still felt justified in his reasoning, but that didn't help disguise the blush rushing to his cheeks.
"Potter… " she calmed down, shaking her head, "... whatever Daphne has going on, she's made it very clear that it's none of my business. If anythin', I was actually hopin' to try and get somethin' out of you about her."
With her words, everything clicked into place.
That was what this was all about, Tracey coming to him about Quidditch was her way of getting them alone together so she could get information from him. He would pat himself on the back for being suspicious of her intentions, if he hadn't had walked straight into it.
"Me?" he asked after a second.
Tracey swung her broom around lazily in front of her.
"You're the only other person she talks to... I don't get to see her that much in lessons anymore, she flat out avoids everyone durin' break. Figured if anyone knew what was goin' on with her, it'd be you."
Harry nodded wearily.
This was all news to him. Daphne not wanting to talk to him he could at least understand, but was she cutting herself off from other people too? She didn't exactly have that many friends to begin with. Tracey was the only person who he'd actually heard Daphne call her friend, so what did that mean? The more he pondered the possibilities, the less he liked the answers.
"Wish I could help, but... she broke up with me, actually. I haven't seen much of her, either."
Tracey took in a sharp in-hale of breath.
"Yeaaaah... I heard about that," she eased out. "Sorry."
A second hung over the two where neither spoke, and the squelching sound beneath their feet was very loud.
"She still likes you, for what it's worth."
Harry peaked his eyebrow.
"She does?"
"Mmhmm. It's obvious, but she's bein' stubborn about it. Always has been stubborn bitch, but this is different. I think your call that someone else is involved is a good shout."
"Someone else?"
She must have caught the distress in his tone and spluttered to correct herself.
"Not in that way!" she frantically waved her hands in dismissal.
Harry caught the rising lump of anxiety in his throat and swallowed it, relieved.
"I meant," she clarified, "I don't think she's being this way because she wants to be. Her dad or someone will be making her… Definitely not Draco though, those two hate each other."
Now this wasn't news to him, but actually hearing someone say it was doing wonders for his confidence.
It was incredible; this one conversation with a background Slytherin had done him more reassurance than talking to his closest friends and god-father had done in a week.
"That's…" he said slowly, unsure where he was going, "... good to know."
They'd been walking quickly through the rain and reached the entrance to the castle before either of them had realised it. The sky had completely dried up now, and allowed them to linger by the great doors for a bit before going in.
"Daffy is… difficult at times," Tracey sighed heavily. "Flat out annoyin' and unreasonable at others. But she's worth it in the end. She's my best mate..."
She passed him back the borrowed broomstick and smiled at him.
"And as her, I guess, now ex-boyfriend… I don't mind tellin' you I'm worried about her. Keep an eye on her if you can, please."
Harry nodded.
He wanted to say something further, but his head was deep in considering her words and unable to provide anything beyond a sympathetic look. Tracey coughed loudly into her hand and gestured up at the looming doors above them.
"You're goin' up, right? Don't suppose you wanna smoke somethin' first?"
Harry laughed gaily, then awkwardly fell silent. He assumed at first she was joking, but the sober look on her face made it difficult to tell.
"Ahhh…" he scratched the back of his head, "I'll… take a raincheck on that. Lesson in the morning."
She gave him a dirty, but good-natured, scowl.
"Gryffindor Pussy. Good talk, though. See you 'round, Potter."
She gave him a lit jab on his shoulder. As she parted the doors to leave, he chucked a smile at her.
"I'll see you on the Quidditch pitch."
Her smile met his and the two parted ways, Tracey, deeper into the castle, Harry, up several flights of stairs.
His evening definitely hadn't gone how he planned it to, but it certainly left him with a lot to think about for the rest of the night.
