CHAPTER 16: Slytherin Manoeuvres (Part 3)

Slytherin Fifth-Year Dormitories

October 14th, 1995

10:30 a.m.

The pale reflection stared back at him, its eyes vacant, void of any soul that might be left inside him. His hands were slightly shaking as he was battling against the stubborn cuffing of his shirt, a battle that had lasted for the past couple minutes. The dormitory was empty, but the gossip from the common room was audible even from there. Which wasn't a surprise, of course, even the Slytherins were ridiculously obsessed with Quidditch - in some ways even much more than the Gryffindors.

When he joined Hogwarts, he didn't really care much for Quidditch, and especially not after what had happened with Montague. The only reason he had even given his best at flying was to impress him, though in the end, it had become an escape from everything. The air had been the only place he had ever felt truly safe before he encountered the Room of Requirement, even if he didn't spend as much time flying as he wanted to. It was ironic, in a way, that his torturer had been the person that had shown him his freedom. But after all this time, he knew it wasn't the last thing he'd taken from the older Slytherin boy.

It wasn't until the beginning of third-year, once he had begun looking into his father's legacy after learning of the infamous Marauders, that he had found out James Potter was just as crazy about Quidditch as any other teenage boy. Ever since, he'd felt a significant calling towards the sport, as if somehow he'd manage to bring his father back if he played hard enough. It had been so ardent, that he mostly used the Room of Requirement to simulate Quidditch games when he first started using it.

He could remember the cold, November afternoons. Snow gathering on the window ledge as he sat in the abandoned library, far away from Madam Pince as he stared towards the pitch. The players looked more like flies going in circles right outside the glass rather than actual players, and the hushed cheers from the crowd alerted Harry of every goal. It was after the fourth game he watched from the castle that he realised he could never actually play.

So he'd forgotten about Quidditch, buried the urge so deep that he could barely feel it these days, and covered it with all the duelling a person could handle without breaking from the mere muscle ache.

Until today.

It was stupid, especially after the last time he'd been in the same room as Montague. Everyone knew he treated the Quidditch team like his personal army, filling it with all the idiots that would blindly follow him. The only two people who weren't part of his crew were Nott and Malfoy, and that's because the former was just too good of a seeker to pass, and the latter had daddy to buy the whole team top of the line brooms. But still, with four people - five given Malfoy and Greengrass' new alliance with Montague, spending plenty of afternoon's alone with them while practising the most dangerous sport of the Wizarding World was the last thing he wanted.

Unfortunately, it was necessary. Quidditch was too large of a bargaining chip, too much power, for him to forfeit without even fighting for it. There was an influence to the sport, something he'd learnt from his research on his father. James had managed to rise to being one of the most loved, respected, and admired students in the year before he even finished his third-year with his raw talent.

Somehow, some way, James never failed at being the one to shine in all the games he played. And once Black joined the team, those two became legendary. The most beloved chaser duo of the whole century by how good they were individually and how much chemistry they had with each other. Their ability at Quidditch was the reason the Marauders were so loved in the school, even if they relentlessly pranked anyone they could. They were too revered and adored that people often forgot how cruel their pranks could be at times.

And as Parkinson constantly reminded him, if he wanted even a shot at beating Greengrass and Montague in their own game, he needed as many people to forget how cruel he could be.

"Looking good, Potter."

Harry blinked once, twice, three times before coming back to reality, seeing as Pansy and Theo entered the room.

"Ha-ha," he deadpanned, finally giving up on his shirt and putting on the rest of his uniform.

"You okay?" Theo asked, hovering beside his bed as he watched him.

"Divine. How long until Snape gets here?"

"Five minutes." Pansy told him matter-of-factly. "You two should really get going, Snape won't think twice before leaving without you."

"You're not coming?" Nott asked.

"I wish I could waste my time watching a group of almost grown adults playing around with sticks and balls."

"Instead, you waste your time stuck with that potions book you constantly carry around," Harry turned around, fixing his Slytherin cloak on top of the jumper. "I don't remember you having much interest in Potions before."

"A lot can change in a summer," Pansy answered, suddenly guarded.

Not wanting to poke the bear, at least not this early in their relationship, he shrugged and walked past her. The two of them followed him as he made his way up the stairs towards the common room.

"Remember, don't do anything stupid, keep your head down. Between Umbridge, Snape, and Montague, they'll look for any excuse to get at you. And try not to faint this time."

"I didn't faint." Harry said through his teeth. "And if I wanted someone to boss me around, I would've stuck with Greengrass."

"I'm putting my arse on the line by even backing you up, Potter, I think I'm entitled to making sure you don't make a fool of yourself."

"You're free to leave at any time."

Pansy scoffed.

"You two are taking out all the fun out of Quidditch."

"Shut up, Nott." They both snapped.

The common room was radiating with excitement, filled to the brim with barely a place to stand comfortably. Montague had commandeered over the couches near the fireplace, making a ruckus with the rest of the old Quidditch team. There were a couple of different groups of younger students hovering beside them, laughing at every syllable Montague uttered, as the seventh-year basked from the attention. If his competition was already resorting to licking the Quidditch Captain's boots, he shouldn't really be worried.

"I'll see you two when you get back."

"She's in a bit of a mood, isn't she?" Theo asked him once Pansy had left them, scaring a couple of second-years away from a desk so that she could use it.

"Isn't she always?" He responded, barely paying attention to him.

He had done everything possible to avoid another panic attack. He'd had enough sleep last night, ate as healthy as possible, and focused on not stressing himself throughout the day. But now, with everything becoming much more real, the inevitability of facing Montague - properly for the first time in years - it was hard to keep his cool. His arms felt heavy by his side, out of place, and the room seemed to be getting smaller by the second. The surrounding voices were getting louder and louder, making Theo's seem like a faint whisper from the far end of the castle.

Harry closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing and making sure he kept his heart steady. It had been four years, he wasn't the same stupid kid he used to be, he wasn't powerless or helpless, he wasn't naive or impressionable. He was Harry fucking Potter, the boy who had survived everything that life had thrown at him, made it on his own without crying about how shitty his life was. He hadn't done all that by wallowing in his self-pity and letting others dictate who he was, and he wasn't about to start doing that.

"Harry-"

"I'm fine." He gritted out, hating the crack of his voice. "Just give me a moment."

Because of how filled the common room was, no one paid attention to him as he forced himself to calm down. He stuck to the wall near the boys' stairs and regained his composure, while not a full-blown out panic attack, it would have still looked bad for him if anyone had noticed his brief episode. Theo was looking at him, a slight worry in his eyes that would have been foreign four years ago. Harry just smiled sardonically at him, hoping it would get rid of the pit he was receiving.

The whole common room was silenced when the portrait opened and Snape stepped inside, accompanied by Sinistra.

"Come on," Harry whispered as all the Slytherins stared at the two teachers anxiously. "Let's go to the front."

"Students who wish to participate in the tryouts for the Quidditch Team will accompany me, while the others who merely desire to watch will stick with Professor Sinistra. I should remind you all that Professor Umbridge will be overlooking the tryouts, so I suggest you all be in your best behaviour."

"Yes sir," muttered a few of the students while the rest nodded.

Harry got a little worried when he realised just how many students would actually be competing in the tryouts, with basically every male student who had finished first-year walking beside him as the group followed Snape - barely managing to keep up with his impatient pace. There were also a few girls trying out as well, Davis and Bulstrode being the only ones from their year, but the gender difference was palpable. The rest of the students had gone with Sinistra, which wasn't surprising given how he was sure he was the only student in the school who had never actually gone to any Quidditch game in his life.

The journey towards the stadium had been long and strained, almost twenty minutes of walking in silence. People had tried to begin quiet conversations, only to be quickly ended by Snape's ire - he had even snarled at Montague, threatening to remove his captainship when he tried to talk for a second time. Thankfully, no other episodes happened along the way, and after seeing Montague taken down a few pegs, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit more collected, even if it had been Snape who did it.

"Grab a broom and a scrimmage vest from the cupboard each, and do it quickly." Snape commanded once they reached the Slytherin lockers.

"But, sir, I have my own broom and uniform."

"Well, congratulations, Mister Pucey, but if I was interested in what your mummy gave you for Christmas, I would have asked. Grab a broom and scrimmage vest from the cupboard now."

No one dared to contradict Snape again, not even Montague, so they all had to settle with what the school had. The brooms were old and ungiving, almost five decades old, they were extremely uncomfortable to ride and so much slower compared to the current ones. The vests were torn and smelt like someone had died in them, and given the amount of time they'd been at Hogwarts, it wasn't impossible for that to have happened.

Everyone left the lockers and made their way into the pitch on their own terms, with Montague and the rest of the third Quidditch team being the first ones out. Theo had stayed with him as the two of them looked around at the other students.

"You sure you can keep your position, Nott?" He asked. "A lot of people here."

Theo laughed. "My position being open is much more of a formality than anything, I doubt any of these bozos can take it from me."

One of said bozos turned to glare at the two of them, but Theo just raised an eyebrow at the boy and made him cower away.

"It's you we have to worry about."

"Maybe I'll just apply for Seeker, I'm sure I could beat you for it."

"Oh, please." The rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's head outside."

"Chaser," he answered, fully serious. "I think I'm going for chaser."

"It's gonna be hard. Pucey, Warrington have been chasers since our second year, and Rowle is going after that position as well."

"It wouldn't be much fun if it was easy, would it?"

Right before he could exit the tent, Harry's arm was seized forcefully by Snape. The man had a large scowl on his face as he looked at him.

"Yes, Professor?" He asked once he realised Snape wasn't planning on talking.

Snape let him go, almost snarling as he did, but didn't say anything.

The stands were filled with students, not just Slytherins, but Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs as well. There were various teachers around the stadium, supervising the students that had taken advantage of one of the few times they could leave the castle in the week. In the centre of the pitch, Montague stood, surrounded by all the other Slytherin boys that had left the changing room.

"Listen up, people." Montague called out to them once everyone was finally settled. "The season is about to start, and since the Triwizard Tournament last year took place instead of the Quidditch Cup, we're going with a clean slate. Just because you were in the team two years ago doesn't mean you have a free pass… though given the mediocrity I see around, I doubt you'll have much problem getting back in."

Montague's four goons laughed, Warrington and Rowle even high-fived.

"You'll all chose the position you want to play for, you can only choose one, so chose carefully. After the try-outs are done, I'll decide who make it on the team-"

"Hum, hum." Umbridge, who had been hovering outside the circle of students beside Snape, interrupted Montague. "I'm afraid you're quite incorrect, Mister Montague, you will not be the one selecting the members of your team. That job belongs to myself and Professor Snape."

"The Quidditch captain has always had the power to chose his team-"

"In previous years, perhaps, but with the state of things in this institution, it's imperative that only its best students are allowed to represent their respective house. Talent at the sport can no longer be the only aspect to consider when choosing who should be on the team; grades, conduct inside and outside the class, and other external factors must be taken into account."

For a moment, it seemed like Montague was going to argue with Umbridge. For a moment, his mouth was opened, a shout stuck at the top of his throat - but then he closed it. "Of course, Professor Umbridge." He said, though his tone told a different story.

Umbridge gave them a sweat smile, before stepping out of the circle and walking back to Snape.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Come on! Let's get this shit started!"

Everyone scattered from their spots, forming a single file line in front of Montague in the least orderly fashion possible - as if being the first ones to sign up would make a difference. Harry and Theo were left near the back, right in front of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Potter," Malfoy sneered. "What are you doing here?"

"Is this not where you sign up for the spelling bee contest?"

"You are a bigger idiot than I thought if you think Montague will allow you in the team."

"I'm as much an idiot as you're a competent listener, Montague doesn't have any way to stop me joining the team"

"Oh," Malfoy laughed. "He'll find a way, even then, do you really think you'll get past Snape and Umbridge?"

"And do you really think you'll get into the team without your daddy's money?" Theo jumped in, surprising both Malfoy and Harry.

"I don't need him," Malfoy snarled. "And you have some nerve by siding with Potter. Maybe I'll just try out for seeker and take your beloved spot from you."

Theo laughed. "You can try, if you want. But that will only end with you not even being kept as a waterboy."

Malfoy eyed Theo hotly, before turning towards the two professors beside them. Harry could see his gears turning, with his pride damaged, Malfoy was looking for a reason to fight Theo for the spot.

"We'll see," he eventually told them, a cold assuredness to his voice.

Somehow, the line felt both eternal and extremely quick at the same time. With Malfoy in front of them, it was impossible not to feel the air strain around them, but as they got closer to the end, they got closer to Montague. He could feel his palms getting sweaty, and his legs suddenly felt weak, unable to easily carry his whole body like they usually did. He wasn't losing his cool like the previous times, and didn't think anything like that would happen, but after years of not having a conversation with him, it still put Harry on edge.

"Seeker," Malfoy's loud voice cut through him, and it was only then that he realised he was almost at the front.

"Seeker, huh?" Montague laugh, the sound sending a spike of anger in him, and making him more nervous at the same time. "Your choice, I guess. Next!"

"Hey, you got this right?" Harry asked Theo, absently hearing Crabbe going for the beater position.

"Of course I got this," Theo answered, almost offended.

"Nex- no fucking way!" He laughed, and suddenly, Harry felt like he was back in first year. "Never in my life- Harry Potter! Come on, come on, get closer. I don't bite."

But Harry stayed rooted to the spot, his whole body tense as he stared at him. He could feel how all the blood had drained from his face, and his heart was now trying to tear itself out of his chest. Suddenly, he was pushed from behind, something that somewhat brought him out of his stupor as he was forced to catch himself before crashing against Montague.

Harry tried to open his mouth, but it was as if someone had sown it shut. Not that it really mattered, as Montague continued, acting as if they were the best of friends.

"It's so good to see you again. It's been so long, I've been meaning to talk to you recently, especially after I saw you with Granger the other day. What's up with the two of you? Hanging about with someone at those hours, especially someone like that, you make people talk."

The voice was cheerful and genuine, but Harry could tell the threat behind it. After what had happened between them, it was impossible for him not to notice it, and it was this that fully snapped him out. Anxiety replaced by rage, it was as if someone had suddenly taken the weight on his shoulders.

"She caught me sneaking out," he said tightly.

"Ah, she's always been a stuck-up mudblood," he said it as if describing the weather. "We should definitely catch up soon, though, we have a lot to talk about. But for now, why don't you just tell me what position you want."

"Chaser."

"Of course, I shouldn't have even asked. There was no other choice really, you were really quite the thing, even back then." Montague winked at him. "Next!"

Harry walked away, not even bothering to wait for Theo. It had been a long time since he'd felt a rage like this, not since he'd stopped having to take care of Michael every evening. He had forgotten how consuming it could be, reaching every cell in his body in a matter of seconds. He could feel the fire in his chest, the lion that lived inside him, the one he'd had to cage so long ago, trying to burst out.

How he wished he could grab his wand and curse Montague, especially now that he was distracted. He was still a threat to him, and he knew that attitude, it was the one he used on his enemies, the one he had used on him four years ago.

For the past week, he'd been focused on how much Montague had damaged him in his first year, how shattered it had left him. But he had forgotten just how much of a threat he was. Not just how powerful of a wizard and skilled of a dueller he could be, but how ruthless and cruel he could be. Harry didn't doubt for a second he'd target Hermione, Theo, or Pansy if he even thought it would hurt him. He couldn't say he was particularly fond of them, but he would be dammed if he let Montague hurt anyone else. Not because of him.

"Hey, why'd you leave?" Theo asked as he caught up with him.

"If I'm going to get that spot, I need to get ready." He said fiercely.

"That's the spirit," Theo clapped him in the back. "Come on, let's win this shit!"

The try-outs turned out to be fairly simple in concept, but extremely harsh in execution. A part of Harry was honestly surprised that Umbridge allowed for it, but then he remembered how she treated her detentions.

The beaters went first. The Bludgers were released, and the eight candidates flew around the pitch. The goal of the exercise was to knock out as many players as possible. The two with the largest body counts would be the two players that stayed on the team. It took nearly fifteen minutes before the final two players were left flying; Millicent Bulstrode and Fergus Cowley. In the end, Fergus, who had already knocked three other players, easily hit Bulstrode, who had only managed to get this far because she had been staying out of the battle. Because of this, it was actually Crabbe who had managed to gain the other spot by hitting two people.

After that, the seekers went next, along with the two beaters that had been chosen. The task was simple, catch the snitch as the beaters tried to hit you with the Bludgers. With only five candidates for the spot, they were forced to constantly dodge and move around. Because of all the attention with the Bludgers, they were barely able to look for the snitch. In the first thirty minutes, the other three players had already been knocked out of their brooms and half-way towards the infirmary, leaving only Malfoy and Theo left.

Both were skilled fliers, but it was clear Theo had the edge on Malfoy, especially for this position. This lead to Malfoy taking a more dirty approach, constantly trying to crash into Theo and distracting him from the Bludgers. Crabbe also only targeted Theo, and it seemed that Fergus had decided to do so as well for the kick of it.

"Come on, Theo." Harry whispered to himself, watching powerlessly from the ground.

But Theo was getting quickly overwhelmed. It got to the point where Malfoy realised he didn't even need to put pressure himself and was free to seek out the snitch on his own. Theo was forced to fly in circles, avoiding the relentless attack from the Bludgers. And then, Malfoy shot off into Theo's direction. Everyone around him gasped, and some of them even cheered for Malfoy, but Harry was too focused on it to react.

But instead of turning back, Theo headed straight towards Malfoy. And just as Harry was about to scream at him out of pure frustration, he realised what he was doing. Crabbe sent a Bludger right behind him, and Theo quickly ducked under it, right in front of Malfoy. Having no time to react, Malfoy was hit square in the head, sending him tumbling down and forcing Snape to stop his fall.

Theo quickly caught the snitch after that, gaining his spot on the team.

"See, I told you I had it."

"Malfoy won't be happy, though," Harry pointed out, and Theo shrugged.

"Who cares?"

Finally, it was time for both chasers to try out. Crabbe and Cowley had been forced to stay once again as they were going to be the beaters on opposite teams. Umbridge created ten random teams, with three seekers each and a keeper, and they would play a game up to three goals. Each team would play three times, and then Umbridge and Snape would decide which three students would stay as seekers.

Unfortunately, Harry had been paired with what was probably the worst team of the bunch. It was composed of himself, a second year who barely knew how to hover, much less fly, and a seventh year that had been rejected from the team the five different years he'd gone to try-outs. So as Harry watched Rowle score all four goals for his team single-handedly and Warrington pull a Thimblerig Shuffle with Pucey and Mulciber he didn't know, before perfectly scoring a goal - he knew he was fucked.

His first match went horribly wrong. The second year only just managed to receive a pass before being knocked out by a Bludger, and the seventh year he was paired with never actually passed the Quaffle to him, and never actually scored a goal. But as badly as it went, it served to get rid of the snotty kid, and it taught him to make sure the seventh year never received the ball.

With almost all the second and third years having been knocked out by the Bludgers, Umbridge created new teams and the second games begun. Thankfully, his new team-mate had been a fourth-year who actually knew what he was doing, and between the two of them, they'd managed to ensure an easy victory over the other team, managing to score four goals while the others barely managed one. Though, he had been forced to intercept the ball from his own team any times it came near the seventh-year.

For the third game, Harry's team was the last one. Everyone was already settled on the ground, and talks of Warrington's team being the three new chasers were running rampant between the students. He couldn't blame them, undefeated and only having been scored one time, they were the clear and obvious choice.

He gripped his broom tightly, focused on the three players in front of him. All of them sixth-years, and having shown themselves to being superb, just a bit behind Warrington's team. He needed to win, needed to give the performance of his life, and even then, it would be almost impossible to somehow make it so Snape and Umbridge would choose him over one of the winning team.

And then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted Montague flying his way up towards them. "Since Crabbe's passed out from exhaustion, I'll take his place as beater." His gaze never left Harry's.

Harry tried to find Crabbe on the ground, but he was too far up to see anyone clearly, and for all he knew, he could already be in the lockers or the infirmary. Either way, it didn't matter, that didn't change the fact this had obviously been a ploy from Montague.

Oh, he'll find a way.

If Montague was here, it was because he considered him a threat, because he wanted to shut him down personally before he managed to secure a position on the team. If he thought he would be scaring Harry by playing beater, he was dead wrong. With even more determination, Harry flew upwards, away from Montague, as he waited for Snape to launch the ball in the air.

Montague took his position near Harry, a warning and a mock, and before he realised what he was doing, he was zooming after the Quaffle that had just been launched into the air. He managed to catch it before ducking under the enemy sixth-year. He could absently hear the Bludgers being launched into the air, but that didn't matter, as he was right in the middle of everyone. Quickly swerving right before rising, he was able to dodge the enemies attempts at stealing the ball.

But just as he was getting a second of peace, he sensed the Bludger flying from below him. He quickly dashed towards his left and barely managed to avoid the ball from hitting his broom. Quickly looking towards the direction of where the Bludger came from, he saw Montague, wearing the most charming smile he could make as he shrugged. Harry didn't waste any more time, knowing that there was no keeper since there was no spot open for that position this year, he took his shot and easily scored the first point of the game on the centre goal.

Harry barely had any time to high-five his teammates before the other team was already dashing towards their goalposts. He went to steal the ball, but failed, and he was thrown backwards, away from the chase. He had always had trouble with the Sabryn Steal, never managing to master it even after all of Montague's tutelage in it during his first-year. Fortunately for him, the fourth-year managed to intercept the ball just before they managed to shoot, and instantly passed it over to him.

He managed to catch the Quaffle, but by the time he did the other three had caught up to him. The brooms were unpredictable and slow, he couldn't trust his speed to manage to get him out of this one. So instead, he headed straight up, with the others just on his tail. A hundred feet, two hundred feet, three hundred feet - Harry kept rising, but the more time passed, the closer he felt the enemy team. Just before they were about to fully catch up to him, Harry abruptly swung around, somehow managing to avoid being hit by the others before quickly passing the ball downwards where it fell over a hundred and fifty feet before one of his teammates caught it.

With so much distance between the enemy team and the fourth-year, they managed to score another easy goal. And moments after they did, Harry was forced to duck under the Bludger that was headed straight to his head.

"Oops." Montague said before zooming off.

Unfortunately, it seemed their luck managed to run out because, after failing to pull off a Sabryn Steal, the enemy team managed to score. Moments after that, the fourth-year had passed the ball to the seventh-year, but it was quickly intercepted by the other team, and they managed to score before Harry could even react. All this time, Montague had been targeting him, forcing him to dodge another three Bludgers in less than two minutes.

The anger inside driving him, Harry made quick work of the enemy team, quickly dodging all their attempts at a steal, before accomplishing a reverse pass from over a hundred feet away that lead to them breaking the tie and winning once again.

Only one more goal to go.

And just when he thought that Montague had given up on trying to knock him down, Harry saw him launch a Bludger at him… but it was off the mark. He was about to laugh at the failed attempt, until he heard a loud yelp from behind him. He quickly turned around and saw the fourth-year quickly falling to the ground, his broom, broken in two, falling alongside him.

"Fuck!" Harry yelled, hitting his broom. Montague winked at him before he began flying around the pitch.

But Harry didn't have time to waste, the other team used their partner's falling to their advantage and began their assault.

"Cover the left side!" Harry yelled out to the seventh-year, but it was too late. With only two chasers in their team, the pitch was wide open for the leader of the sixth-years to simply dash by them and score, tying them once again.

"Winner takes all!" Montague shouted to them, a manic glee to his voice.

Harry forced himself to pause. There was no way he would pass the Quaffle to the seventh-year if he began the play. The team that stole the ball would be the one to win, especially them, since his team was only one player and a waste of space. And after all the games, he was tired, he didn't think he could manage to go against all of them on his own. But at the same time, he hadn't managed to steal a single ball in the game, it wasn't smart to leave it to that chance.

Even if he couldn't steal, he could intercept, but he couldn't manage to evade the three of them now that the fourth-year was knocked out.

He gripped the ball tightly on reflex.

"Fuck."

His attack began slow, and before he even reached the quarter part of the field, he passed it to the seventh-year, who miraculously caught the ball. But while he went on the attack completely, Harry didn't follow, staying by to guard the goalposts.

It didn't take long for one of the sixth-years to steal the Quaffle from the seventh-year.

"Here we go," he whispered to himself, most likely on the edge of losing his mind.

But the other two sixth-years stayed behind, he couldn't intercept if they never passed it. And then, an idea came to his mind. His biggest problem with the Sabryn Steal had always been landing on his broom, but what if he never had to jump from it? It was stupid, but at this point he didn't have any other choice.

Harry sped off straight towards the sixth-year, only, he was almost ten meters above him. The other chaser was confused, but he didn't think much of it, instead, opting to head straight for the goalposts. So when Harry was about to reach him, he tilted his broom downwards and sat on the broom horizontally. He latched the back of his knees on it before fully letting go, hanging upside down. Before the other chaser could react, Harry latched onto the Quaffle with a strong hold and pulled.

Before he knew what had happened, he realised had managed to secure the Quaffle, leaving the other boy to fall to the ground as he was thrown off his broom. Harry pulled himself upwards, managing to collect his bearings just before seeing the other two chasers coming after him. Harry feigned a pass to the seventh-year, causing one of the chasers to attempt to intercept it and being left behind, before swerving underneath the other and taking his shot.

The stadium exploded as the ball crossed the centre of the goalpost. Even seventy feet away, he had managed to nail the accuracy effortlessly, and Harry couldn't help but turn towards Montague and winking back at him. But the older boy just grinned back, in a way that unnerved him to his very core.

"That was- you- how!?" Theo exploded when Harry reached him

"Beginner's luck, I guess." Harry shrugged, feeling the need to lay down and sleep for ten hours.

"Beginner's luck, my arse! You're a natural! How come you never joined the team before this!?"

"I'm not even in the team yet-"

"Bullshit, just look at Umbridge and Snape!" Harry could see the two of them deep in conversation on the edge of the pitch. "Even they know you won that! People would riot if they didn't put you in."

"I think you're maybe exaggerating a little bit."

"Mate," Theo put his shoulder around him. "Just take the compliment, will you?"

Harry laughed, but shrank away from the hug.

"Hey, Potter." Harry turned and saw Montague walking towards him. "Good job out there, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on."

There was a malicious undertone to his words, but for once, Harry didn't freeze. His body didn't act against him. He didn't know whether it was how tired he was or the anger that was still burning inside him, but he smiled.

"I'm sure we will."

Alright, I've been working on this chapter for the past seven hours, and it's the dead of night, so I hope it turned out to be a good one.

After three weeks of not writing, I'm finally back. School is officially over for the next two and a half months, I'll try to go back to my twice a week schedule, or maybe even upload a bit more, depends on how my holidays go.

I hope you're all well, and thank you for reading, commenting, and favouriting this fic! It means a lot to me.