A lot of people end up into trouble in this chapter.

HARRY X

Harry was staring at the diagram without hearing what Wood was saying as arrows of different colors, whose meaning he didn't get, moved across the board. Maybe if Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, didn't wake him up before dawn he could have devoted some basic attention to both the board and his voice, but in his sleepy state, he could hardly try to follow the arrows, even less grab the words Wood was using to describe his new tactics.

The others were no better. Fred was snoring, his head resting on Alicia's left shoulder. Alicia herself struggled to stay awake, her head slowly dropping to her chest before she abruptly straightened it, only to let it fall slowly again. It was a chance her head wasn't nearly as cut as Nearly Headless Nick. Angelina and Katie also had their heads respectively resting on one another. As for George, he was leaning against his Cleansweep, his eyes closed, and Harry wondered when he would fall onto the floor. They were in Gryffindor's changing rooms, under the bleachers of the Quidditch pitch, before the day had even begun, and everyone in this room just wanted one thing, go back to bed and stay in it for another two hours before they would rise up to take their breakfast. Everyone but Oliver Wood, who woke them up, all of them. Harry wondered how he got into the girls' dormitory. The stairs were enchanted so that no boy may try to climb them. He would have to ask the question to Angelina or Alicia or Katie later. Wondering about this was much less arduous for his brain than trying to follow Wood's new tactics. Did their captain really spend the best part of summer reviewing their whole strategies, tactics and training programs?

"This way, we will have a strategy that maximizes our chances of scoring while giving us more than the necessary flexibility to fall back if we lose the Quaffle, hence reducing to the minimum the odds of the opposing team to score against us. And it will also maximize our Beaters' chances of hitting opponents and reduce the odds of their Beaters to hit us. So, is that clear? Any questions?"

How could they have any question when no one listened? George asked another question that Harry would have asked himself if he had been daring enough.

"I do have a question, Oliver. Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Harry couldn't have agreed more, and the rest of the team, now a little awaken since Wood was done with his explanations, seemed to agree totally. All the team but Wood.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he almost thundered. He seemed to have realized no one wanted to listen to his tactics this morning, when in fact no one could have listened to them, even if they wanted. "We should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We ended third, only twenty points behind Slytherin. Twenty points! If we had scored one more goal at each one of our games, the Cup would have been Gryffindor's."

"It's not our fault that Harry's broomstick got mad during the first game, Oliver," Alicia countered. "Even you tried to help him when you saw his predicament. And Flint and his goons used the situation to score tons of goals."

"And it's not our fault if Harry was in the hospital wing during the last game, and that Katie was forced to play the Seeker," Fred added.

Harry shifted guiltily. If only he had woken up a day before, he would have played this match and they could have won. He saw Katie shifting uncomfortably on her bench. Harry hoped she didn't feel guilty for not catching the Golden Snitch. It was his job, not hers.

"Well, we must avoid that kind of situation this year," Wood said convincingly. "If Katie, Alicia and Angelina had been our Chasers during that last game, we would have taken a very good advance. Instead, we had Salisbury making fouls all the time. He's not used to playing with us. So we make sure we won't have to call reservists this year. The team chemistry is perfect with you all, and this is what makes us the best team. We cannot afford to lose it. So I forbid any one of you to get injured. And if you do, you play all the same. You must be ready to die to win the Quidditch Cup."

Harry may have liked Quidditch, and it was indeed a violent sport where injuries were common, but to the extent of being ready to die for the team? No player ever died while playing Quidditch. Only a referee was rumored to have died a long time ago, and it wasn't certain whether it had actually happened.

"This year, we train harder than ever before. Let's go and put our new theories into practice!"

Harry felt that this practice would be quite different from the journey that brought him to Hogwarts. Thinking about this, a thought crossed his mind.

"Hey, Oliver, I have a question," he asked, as the rest of the team was going to the pitch.

"Yes, Harry? Is it about the tactics?" his captain asked.

"No. It's about the reservists. Who are they?"

Oliver shrugged. "They're not really worthy to know. I only took the best for the team."

"I get it, but... How are they chosen?"

"Last year," Oliver began while walking Harry to the pitch, "I held tryouts. That's when I selected the team. I kept the names of the best that came after them. Rowan Salisbury was one of them. I wish though we never had to ask him to play. He wasn't from the same mold as Angelina, Alicia and Katie. He didn't know our tactics. And he wasn't used to play with us."

"Okay. And are there going to be tryouts this year?"

Wood seemed insulted. "I think I was very clear just now. Injuries won't be an excuse to miss a match this time."

He spoke as if it was Harry's fault they lost against Ravenclaw. Harry felt somewhat responsible for this, indeed, but it wasn't as if he got injured on purpose. And he would rather lose all the Quidditch games in the world than see Voldemort return or let his mother die.

"I was just wondering if new players could apply to be reservists."

"Well, no. We already have the best team," Wood declared, unflinching. "No need for new recruits or reservists. We play with the team we have."

"Okay," Harry conceded, utterly uncertain about Oliver's philosophy and approach to creating a Quidditch team. "Still one more thing. First-years cannot be reservists?"

Wood scoffed. "No, they can't. They don't even have the right to own a broomstick, or to fly. You were a special case, and no longer in your first year today, anyway."

This had the benefit to be clear. Harry wasn't sure why he asked all these questions. He knew that first-years couldn't enroll into the Quidditch team of their house. Like Wood said, he had been a special case, lucky that Professor McGonagall didn't expel him when she caught him flying against another teacher's orders. Still, he had asked because thinking about their flying journey to Hogwarts had reminded him of something Ginny said before they took flight.

I know how to control a broom. I'm breaking into the broom shed and using my brothers' brooms. I've been doing it for years, early in the morning, or late in the evening, sometimes at night.

He had wondered for a moment if perhaps... But of course, Ginny couldn't have joined the reservists. She was a first-year, and unless McGonagall saw her catching a Remembrall just before it fell to the ground, her broomstick at full speed, Harry didn't see how she could circumvent the rules. Harry felt sorry for her in some way. The few times he saw her this week, she was always alone. It was strange. Harry had been an only son his whole life, with a single mother to raise him alone. He had dreamed of having brothers and sisters more than once. It was so odd for him to see Ginny look so alone when she had six brothers, including four who attended Hogwarts with her.

He entered the pitch. The sun was now out. Dawn was gone. How long had they been in the changing rooms, feigning to listen to Wood's new tactics? Ron and Hermione were on the benches, some toasts with them that Harry looked upon with envy.

"You're not finished yet?" Ron shouted to him.

"We haven't even started," Harry shouted back. "Wood has been teaching us new moves."

The grass cracked under his feet. Harry straddled his Nimbus and kicked hard against the ground. The cold air of the morning was like a breath of fresh air, which it actually was when you thought about it. This was Quidditch, to the opposite of tactics and strategies Wood had been talking about for hours. Harry felt much better, and finally woke up. He reached the center of the field, at the altitude of the towers, then began to circle the pitch.

He reached Katie's level. "Woken up?" he asked her. She looked back with a huge smile.

"Yes. Much better working than Wood's speech."

They both laughed. Katie Bell was the youngest player in Gryffindor's team aside Harry. She was only one year older than he was. "I'll try to do what he said, to not get hurt. This way you won't be forced to be the Seeker against Ravenclaw again this year."

"Yes, please, Harry. No offense to your position, but I very much prefer scoring goals with the Quaffle than looking for the Golden Snitch. Now show me that your Nimbus wasn't exhausted by your journey last week."

Harry was happy to show her that his Nimbus had retained all its power by accelerating to full speed. He then skillfully flew past Angelina and Alicia, right between them.

"Hey, I thought it was women first," Angelina shouted after him. She had woken up as well.

Harry reached Fred and George and was about to perform the same trick he did with Angelina and Alicia to them, but before he began his maneuver, he heard a sound that had sadly become far too familiar recently. Colin Creevey, one of the students who got sorted into Gryffindor last week, was taking series of pictures of Harry from the benches. Harry looked away. Colin had already caused him more than enough problems with Lockhart, who now believed Harry was after fame just like him. Lockhart went as far as to suggest Harry came to Hogwarts on a broomstick only as a publicity stunt. He even went as far as asking Harry where his mother was living so he may visit her. The very thought of what it might suggest made him want to vomit, and to vomit on Lockhart himself.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" Colin shouted. Harry decided it was better not to look at him. He may think that Harry just didn't hear him anyway.

"Who's that?" Fred asked.

"No idea," Harry lied, as they flew away from Colin.

"Another one of your fans, Harry?" George asked.

"I don't know!" Harry replied in an exasperated tone. He didn't want Fred and George starting to tease him. He should have known better because it was unavoidable.

"Let's hope Ginny doesn't get her hands on one of his photos. Or else she will ask you to sign it, if she ever finds the courage to..."

"Oh, shut up, Fred!"

"It's George."

"Hey!" Katie had just joined them. "Have you seen this? The Slytherins are here."

They followed her gaze, and indeed, seven people in green robes had entered the pitch. They were still on their feet, but it was undoubtedly Flint's team. They watched Wood landing in front of them, and all decided without saying a word that it would be better to stand besides their captain as he faced the Slytherin team. Angelina and Alicia did the same, landing right before them.

"I booked the pitch! I booked it!" Wood was spitting when they arrived.

"Ah, but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practise today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker," Marcus Flint said arrogantly.

"You've got a new Seeker? Where?"

Harry didn't see any new player from last year. They were all still there. All but Higgs, the Seeker Harry beat to the Golden Snitch. Harry realized there were only six players, all tall and muscled like Flint. The six large players opened the ranks to let the seventh, much smaller, come forward. Harry recognized him on the spot. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred asked, disdain plain in his voice.

"It is funny that you mention Draco's father," Flint said. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven players showed their broomsticks. Harry could see they were brand new, and the gold letters on them showed clearly what they were. Seven Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones.

"Very last model. It only came out last month," Flint pointed out. "I believe it outstrips the old Nimbus Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps, they are only good for sweeping the board."

Harry looked at them in bewilderment. So that was how Draco Malfoy got into the Slytherin team. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that Higgs was still a student. Harry had never wondered which year he was. At the same time, he felt a pang of jealousy, accompanied by anger and a feeling of injustice directed towards Malfoy.

"Oh, look. A pitch invasion," Flint said. Ron and Hermione had arrived on the field.

"What's happening? Why aren't you playing? And what is he doing here?" Ron asked Harry, talking about Malfoy.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley. Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father has bought our team," Malfoy replied smugly. "Good, aren't they? But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives. I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherins exploded in laughter. Ron was speechless, and so was Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team, but mostly out of anger than anything else. Only Hermione kept a cool head.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," she said with the same smug look Malfoy just gave them. "They got in on pure talent."

Her smugness made Malfoy lose some of his. Harry was proud of Hermione in this moment. He wished he made this reply.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Everything happened so quickly. The instant after Malfoy said those words, he was on the ground, holding his face somewhere between his nose and his eyes. Blood came out of it. Harry had just hit him hard with the end of his own Nimbus Two Thousand's handle.

"NEXT TIME YOU CALL HER THAT, MALFOY, I'LL KILL YOU!"

What happened afterwards went even more quickly. Harry didn't know exactly what took place, but he knew that the rest of the Slytherin team, after recovering from the surprise attack Harry made, rushed on him, and the other players of Gryffindor rushed to his help.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all in the hospital wing of the castle, the Slytherins and the Gryffindors in their own separate rows of beds. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape stood between them, while Madam Pomfrey was tending to their wounds.

"Can you explain how a Quidditch practice ended up in a fist fight?" the Head of House Gryffindor thundered.

Snape was much calmer than his counterpart, but he was looking at Harry with a quiet but satisfied expression. Perhaps he was glad to see Harry with several bruises and a deep cut on the left cheek, but Harry suspected he was looking for an opportunity to punish him further. He may have been even more satisfied had Harry's glasses still been broken. Hermione had repaired them with a spell right before they were brought to the infirmary.

"It's their Seeker's fault. He assaulted Malfoy!" Flint started immediately.

"He called Hermione a Mudblood!" Ron countered angrily despite the fact he was lying down in his own bed. He must have joined the fight later, for Harry didn't remember him getting in.

"Then Wood and his whole team attacked us!" Flint accused them.

"You attacked Harry first! It's rich of you to call us the attackers, considering you guys barely got a few bruises," Wood snarled. "It wasn't you who got your arm broken, Flint!"

Indeed, Wood was right. Aside from Malfoy, whose nose had been bleeding heavily but was now repaired and fresh thanks to Madam Pomfrey, for he was the first student she treated when they arrived, all the members of the Slytherin team had gotten out of this fight mostly unscathed. A bruise there and there, a few bumps, one or two cuts, that was all they had. The Gryffindor team, on the other hand, didn't have the same luck, probably owing to the fact that Wood had chosen his players more on the basis of their talent, while Flint favoured muscles and lack of brains. Aside from Wood's broken arm, Angelina also got a broken arm, and Katie had a broken leg. Alicia had luckily nothing broken, but her face was proof enough that she received more than her share of hits. Fred and George had been forced to remove their shirts to reveal bruises all over their bodies and faces. They looked so blued that Harry could have mistaken them for very little blue people living in mushrooms. They had locked their bats with Derrick and Boyle early in the fight, that Harry could remember, but he guessed that despite their talent, Fred and George couldn't match the brute force of their opponents. To showcase this, the two Slytherin Beaters barely had a mark or two to show as injuries, and Madam Pomfrey had quickly declared them fit to leave and uninjured. Only they didn't, in part because the two professors forced them to stay.

"This is an infirmary here," Madam Pomfrey told McGonagall and Snape. "These children require care. You can scold them later. And have those who are uninjured out of here," she said while looking at the Slytherins. It was some small comfort that Hogwarts' Healer was on their side. She probably didn't like that the Slytherins were the ones who caused the injuries she had to treat now.

"I'm afraid this is not a matter we can put to rest," Snape stated. "There has been violence on the Quidditch pitch. The players of Gryffindor started a fight against the team of my own House after I gave them clear authorization to use the Quidditch pitch to train Mr Malfoy. And right when it happens, Mr Potter assaults Mr Malfoy who got injured near the eyes and nose."

"I think Mr Malfoy is not the only student who got injured in all this, Severus," McGonagall interrupted. "And unlike others, he is already on his feet without a trace of injury. So now, Mr Malfoy, you are the only player in the Slytherin team who got injured. How did this happen?"

Harry saw Malfoy somehow insulted. He felt some contentment at the idea that Malfoy felt ashamed and most importantly ridiculed by the fact only he, among all his teammates, got injured in all this.

"Potter attacked me! He took his broomstick and hit me in the face with the end of it. The pointy end! I could have lost an eye!"

"Lucky you didn't," McGonagall said. She turned towards Harry, her look just as severe as with Malfoy."Mr Potter, did you attack Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes," he replied after a moment, "and I would do it again if I could."

"Well, Potter is not denying it," Snape stated. "I guess it solves the matter. He assaulted another player on the pitch. I think detention and losing points are a good punishment, in addition to being taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team for the rest of the season."

There was a concert of complaints and shouts coming from Harry's teammates and from Ron too. Harry, on his side, feared the worst. Could Snape really do this? Could he remove him from the Quidditch team for the rest of the year, only after a single week into the year.

"ENOUGH!" McGonagall's voice was powerful and authoritative enough to shut down the concert of shouting. In the meantime, Snape kept looking to Harry with the same satisfied and quiet expression, while Malfoy and the other Slytherins seemed to be in paradise.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall began again. "Why did you assault Malfoy?"

She was looking intensively at Harry, just like Dumbledore, as if she wanted to scrutinize his mind. Harry saw no reason to hide the truth. "He called Hermione a Mudblood to her face."

He saw an imperceptible flare of anger behind McGonagall's eyes, but it was gone within the instant. Harry's friends backed his story, all saying he only attacked Malfoy after he insulted Hermione. They looked just as disgusted and outraged as Harry felt in this moment. Mudblood was the worst insult, the most disgusting foul name anybody could throw at a wizard or witch whose parents were Muggles. Harry knew what the insult meant, and since his own mother came from a Muggle family, when Malfoy called Hermione that way, in his eyes it was as if he had insulted Harry's mother too. That's why he hit him.

McGonagall turned to Snape after the Gryffindor players were done giving their version of the story. "I don't see it as a reason to attack another student," he declared.

"No, it's not," she replied as a matter of fact. She turned to Malfoy though. "Mr Malfoy, do you deny what Mr Potter and his friends are saying?"

"Even if I did, it's only a word," he said, looking highly at Harry.

"A word that is not tolerated here, at Hogwarts," McGonagall retorted. She looked severely at him, then she looked as severely at the other Slytherins and the Gryffindors, especially Harry. "Violence is not tolerated at Hogwarts either. What happened today is unacceptable. Which is why I'm removing fifty points from each house and giving a detention to each one of you."

The Slytherins lost their smug expression right away. Snape lost it too. "Minerva, I don't think..."

"Severus, you'll forgive me, but judging from the injuries that the Gryffindor players suffer from when compared to your students, it is clear thar they used more than the necessary force to defend themselves. As for me, it is likely that everyone in this room may deserve to be suspended for the rest of the year. But it will not happen. I will have a very long conversation with every one of my students, I promise you. Especially Potter. I suggest you have a very good conversation as well with your own students, especially Malfoy."

"To me, it seems that Malfoy is probably the only student here who is, without any doubt, not faulty. He was assaulted first, and then didn't participate in the ensuing brawl."

"He used heinous and insulting language towards another student. He gets a detention, like all the others. I think you will personally agree, Severus, that it is still better than what happened the last time a Slytherin student used this word to insult a girl from House Gryffindor."

Something happened then that Harry never witnessed before. Snape turned so pale that he looked like chalk. His eyes quickly went from McGonagall to Harry. Harry had the impression that Snape was looking at him as if it was the first time he ever saw him. But Snape quickly went back to his usual demeanour, recovering his calm attitude. He then turned to the Slytherins.

"All of you, you come with me. You're not injured. Out of this place."

"But, Professor, are we still getting detention?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes, Malfoy, you are getting detention! Now, out! We will indeed need a very good conversation about what happened today!"

Harry never saw Snape snap like this against a Slytherin, and especially not against Malfoy. No one ever did, for the infirmary was silent for quite a while afterwards. McGonagall then looked to each one of them, one by one, with her severe expression.

"Professor..." Wood started, but she cut him right away.

"No more discussion about today's events, Wood. I'll talk with each one of you later, and I'll inform you of the detention you'll get. In the meantime, let Madam Pomfrey tend to your injuries. You will not help the Gryffindor team with broken bones."

She left on this. Her last declaration seemed to make everyone think twice about arguing with her.

"Well, the Professor McGonagall is not wrong. We will not win the Quidditch Cup if we keep all our bruises and cuts," Wood conceded.

"Says the guy who told us this morning to keep playing even if we were injured. No, did he actually forbid us to get injured?" Angelina asked.

"Well, I don't regret these bruises," Fred declared. "It felt good to give a few slaps to the Slytherins." Not everyone agreed with them, especially those who were the most injured. "And with our new bruises, perhaps for once people will be able to differentiate us."

"You look just the same. You're both covered so much that you look blue now," Ron said.

"He's right, Fred and George. You are like the Twin Smurfs now," Harry declared.

Everyone looked at Harry with a puzzled look. For a time that looked like eternity Everyone but the person in the bed on his right. Katie burst into laughs.

"He's right. You really do look like..." She couldn't control herself, and was holding her tummy, while emitting wailing, probably because of her broken leg.

Harry expected Madam Pomfrey to tell Katie to stay quiet, but he realized she was looking away, a hand on her face. And he heard her laugh as well. He guessed they were the only ones aside from Harry who had some little contact with the Muggle world.

Fred and George were looking at each other. "What are Smurfs?" they asked together.

Harry couldn't stop himself from joining Katie into her uncontrollable laughter. Hermione walked into the infirmary at this moment.

"Harry, really, this was very..."

Whatever she wanted to say, she stopped when looking at Harry and Katie laughing, and looked even more traumatized when she saw that Madam Pomfrey was holding back her laughs as well.

"What's going on here? What do you find so funny about this situation? You could have gotten yourselves in very serious trouble."

She looked at Ron, waiting for an explanation, but Ron shrugged to show his helplessness. This only made Harry laugh even more.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked again, clearly exasperated.

"Sorry... Hermione..." It was Katie who tried to articulate a few words. She was laughing so hard that she was crying now. "It's just... the Twin Smurfs..."

She laughed again. Hermione didn't seem to understand, but then she looked at Fred and George, covered with their bruises from the waist to the top of their head. Then she burst into laughs as well, covering her mouth with her two hands. Fred and George ended up joining the laughter, even though they clearly didn't understand what it was about.

"What are Smurfs?" they asked in unison once more.

This only redoubled the laughing in the room, and soon Alicia, Oliver and Angelina both joined as it became contagious. Only Ron remained there, not understanding, still asking who the Smurfs were.

I couldn't resist the temptation to include one of the most memorable comics and TV shows from my childhood.

Please review.

Next chapter: Lily