The fallout from the Wizengamot session dominated the front page of The Prophet for the next few days. Harry's poise and confidence had been praised so frequently in the articles that he had been unable to control his blush when Sirius began to read the reports aloud. Albus Dumbledore, meanwhile, was not faring well in those same articles. From having to be repeatedly told to follow procedure where Harry was concerned during the session, to his lack of communication with the Potter Heir whilst voting in his stead, to Harry having to seek sanctuary with the Tonks family, Dumbledore's decision making when it came to The-Boy-Who-Lived was under close scrutiny. The reporters at The Prophet clearly smelled blood in the water and were searching for stories about 'the leader of the light' with the same fervour as a Niffler hunting for shiny objects.
Whilst Harry had now accepted that Dumbledore wasn't to blame for all the wrongs in his life, it didn't stop him from deriving at least a small measure of pleasure from the headlines that called the Chief Warlock's motives into question following the revelations in Harry's speech. Harry wouldn't normally consider himself a particularly vengeful person but he couldn't help but enjoy the difficulties Dumbledore was now facing, especially as each had been brought about by his own actions.
Hermione, who had spent Christmas and Boxing Day with her parents and extended family, visited Harry and the others at the Tonks' house in the run-up to the New Year. She had, with amusement, pointed out that none of the media commentary on the session and the new Potter Alliance, had realised their vote count for the Alliance was incorrect. "They've all forgotten," she explained with a small smile, "as long as Amelia is Head of the DMLE, we've got another vote on our side, even if she would normally be expected to toe the Ministry line."
Eager to expand their vote count further, Sirius collected Harry and Hermione early one morning and together they made their way to Grimmauld Place. Stepping inside for her first visit to the Black Townhouse since coming back in time, the changes were immediately apparent to Hermione. Whilst still dimly lit, with the gas lamps uniformly placed along the walls of the hallway providing the only sources of light, the entrance now had a much more welcoming feel to it. It was also significantly cleaner than Hermione could remember it being before Harry had moved in and made the old house his home. The portrait of Walburga Black was missing too and had been replaced by a large, black-and-white Wizarding photograph of Sirius' brother, Regulus. Hermione drew Harry's attention to this change but before she could speak, there was a popping noise and the wizened, stooped figure of Kreacher stood in front of them.
"Master Sirius has returned with Master Harry and guest." Kreacher croaked. "Can Kreacher bring Master anything?"
"Tea for three please, Kreacher. We'll take it in the library." Sirius replied.
"As Master wishes." Kreacher popped away as Hermione looked on in approval. Noting her expression as they began walking to the library, Sirius shrugged and explained. "Since we passed that locket to the Goblins, he's been much happier. He's even stopped calling me 'Mistresses Greatest Disappointment'."
Sirius opened the door to the library and ushered Harry and Hermione inside, just as Kreacher popped in with their tea, setting it on one of the small side tables that were placed alongside some comfortable reading chairs. Hermione made a beeline for the chair she had claimed in the previous timeline and Harry grinned when she sighed contentedly as she sank into it.
"Right!" said Sirius, cheerfully. "Let's get started!" He sat himself down at a large table that had been placed in the middle of the room and beckoned for Harry and Hermione to join him. On the table were three vials of potion, several thin pins and a number of tightly rolled bundles of parchment. He pulled one of the rolls and a vial of potion towards himself. "I prepped this earlier, as well as a few other rolls, so we're good to go. I thought we'd start by testing me again and comparing it to the tapestry just to prove we're happy it's working OK." Receiving nods of agreement from Harry and Hermione he pricked his left index finger with one of the pins and squeezed his finger until a droplet of blood appeared.
"Are those transfigured pins?" Hermione asked curiously as Sirius slowly began to drip the requisite seven drops of his blood into the potion. He shook his head. "No, using a transfigured needle would contaminate the potion with outside magic. These are good, old-fashioned, muggle-made pins."
Having added his blood, Sirius stuck his finger into his mouth, sucking it to stem the bleeding and picked up the potion with his other hand, giving it a swirl until the colour changed suddenly from a murky white to a shimmering red. Dipping a quill into the solution, he placed it on one of the rolls of parchment where it stood perfectly upright, even though it was unsupported. Pointing his wand at the quill, Sirius incanted 'hereditatem meam revelare' quietly and the trio watched as the quill sprang into motion, writing Sirius' name first, then those of his most recent ancestors. The parchment unrolled itself as more space was required and soon the end had fallen onto the floor as the history of the Black family was revealed before their eyes.
Around ten minutes had passed when the quill suddenly stopped its scratching and fell from its upright position to lay motionless on the parchment. Sirius stood from the seat he'd dropped into whilst they waited and gathered the roll, giving it no more than a cursory glance. Motioning for Harry and Hermione to follow, they made their way into the drawing-room where the Black family tapestry hung on the wall.
An hour later the three emerged, satisfied that the family tree that had materialised on the parchment, matched and exceeded that which was on the tapestry. Sirius was already making plans to reach out again to his squib Great Uncle Marius whose children, who were also squibs, may eventually produce magical children of their own. "My ancestors may have written them off," said Sirius, "but I'm not going to. I want the House of Black to continue well past the end of our lives."
"Hermione, you're up." Harry grinned at his friend as she picked up a pin of her own and, after pricking her finger, allowed her blood to drip into the potion. The moment the quill touched the parchment Hermione watched eagerly and she let out a small gasp as first her Father's, then her Grandfather's and Great-Grandfather's names all appeared in red ink.
"My Dad's a squib," she said surprised, glancing up at Harry.
"Seems so," he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder and nodding back at the parchment, a satisfied smile on his face. "And here's what we were hoping for." He reached down and tapped at the name that had just been written out. "Hector Dagworth-Granger - your sixth-Great-Grandfather – who married…" Harry paused and started to laugh. Hermione looked down at the name and back up at Harry in disbelief. "You don't suppose…"
"Don't suppose what?" probed Sirius, impatiently. "Who is it?"
Harry cleared his throat. "Hector Dagworth-Granger married Alycia Prince. We'll have to get him to do a test to be sure," Hermione nodded in agreement, "but who do we know from the Prince line, Padfoot?"
Sirius looked confused for a second before understanding slowly dawned. "You think you might be related to Snape?"
"Distantly, but I could be," Hermione shrugged. "Once Voldemort is dealt with, we need to encourage him to take a test to claim the Prince seat too. I would think he'll be next in line for that."
"Anyone else we need to take note of?" Sirius asked as the quill stopped writing. Hermione scanned her eyes over the parchment, tracing the line of purple ink – the colour that indicated a magical relative – down the parchment and then shook her head. "That's it, just Hector Dagworth-Granger. Fortunately, I'm a member of the direct line. I can claim the seat." She smiled up at Harry. "One more vote for the Potter Alliance from the Noble House of Dagworth-Granger."
"Great news," Harry smiled warmly. "Just me left!"
Once the quill finished scratching out Harry's family tree, the three of them poured over the results with Sirius pointing out those names he had known personally – Harry's grandparents and his grandfather's cousin, Charlus Potter, from whom James had received his middle name. "Nothing new on your Dad's side," remarked Sirius. "How about your Mum's?"
Harry dived into the results of Lily's side of the family, having never seen, or even heard of any family members outside of the Dursleys. He hadn't even known the names of his maternal grandparents until after the war previously, and he was gladdened to see the tradition of naming girls after flowers had been in place for generations.
"Wow, that's a lot of squibs," Sirius said, peering down at the list. He gazed unseeingly into a corner of the room as he pulled a memory from the recesses of his mind. "Your Grandmother Heather was a formidable woman. I can still remember the look she gave Moony and me at your parents' wedding when she caught us trying to spike Prongs' drink with Firewhiskey. Not a woman you'd want to mess with, but loved her family with all her heart from the stories your Mum told us."
Harry smiled happily, glad to hear something about his maternal grandparents as Petunia had never mentioned them in either of his lifetimes. He turned his attention back to the parchment.
"You've got to be shitting me…" Harry exclaimed suddenly, breaking Sirius from his thoughts and immediately receiving an exclamation of "Language, Harry!" from Hermione.
"No! She was…"
"No, Padfoot," Harry interrupted. "This!" he pointed down at the parchment where it showed that many, many generations previously, one of his ancestors had married the squib daughter of…
"Salazar Slytherin." Hermione breathed.
"Son of a… all that abuse I took in our second year about maybe being the Heir of Slytherin, and I actually am related to him?"
"You're way too far removed from the main line to have claimed the seat if one existed," Sirius said with interest, "but, yeah. Looks that way."
Hermione considered Harry contemplatively, tapping her finger on the tabletop. "Can you still speak to snakes?" she asked hesitantly.
"I don't know," Harry replied, "I've not tried since returning." Sirius pulled his wand out to conjure a snake, but Hermione held up her hand, indicating for him to wait for a moment. "Could you speak to them after the final battle?" she queried, more firmly this time.
"I never tried. I remember Ginny kept banging on about how it wouldn't look good for an Auror as prominent as me to be linked to a 'dark ability', even if everyone already knew I could do it. So, I just… didn't try."
Hermione motioned for Sirius to continue and, with a quickly muttered 'Serpensortia', a long, pale green grass snake with black markings down its sides, shot out of the end of his wand. Harry crouched down as the snake coiled itself before turning its head towards him.
"Hello," Harry hissed tentatively.
"A speaker!" the snake replied, lifting its head to get a better look at him. Harry nodded and Sirius waved his wand to vanish their visitor.
"Well, that's good to know," said Hermione, the satisfaction clear in her tone. "Clearly your ability to speak Parseltongue is an inherited gift, not as a result of anything Voldemort did. Plus, if we're not able to stop Malfoy from slipping Ginny the diary next year, we'll be able to get into the Chamber and hopefully head the attacks off."
"Let's leave that as a last resort though, eh?" Harry shuddered. "I'd rather not have to face off against that bloody great basilisk again if we can avoid it". Hermione nodded in agreement.
"Now we just need to decide what we do with this," Sirius said, gesturing at the three long rolls of parchment in front of them. "Do we make it known we've developed this test?"
Harry tapped his finger against his test results, a thoughtful expression on his face as he traced his eyes over the names in front of him. "If this gets out, people will be clamouring for it. A chance to potentially get your hands on riches and treasures, as well as possibly a Wizengamot seat? Logistically, we're not in a position to run the number of tests I think will be wanted and, though we could get the Goblins to run the tests for us, this is Black family magic." He looked up at Sirius. "I know you were planning on speaking with Ragnok about accepting these results but… would you want to make this available, even if the Goblins agreed to keep its origins a secret?"
Before Sirius could answer, however, Hermione cleared her throat and the two men turned to her. "It's just a thought and… ethically this is troubling, but it would be remiss of me not to mention it… what if we used this as an opportunity? If we approach people we believe may have a Wizengamot seat waiting to be claimed, and whose politics align with ours, or are at the very least neutral, we could reshape the face of the British Wizarding World. We'd have all the support we needed to overturn each and every one of the unjust and discriminatory laws that currently exist."
"Screw the ethics…" Harry began enthusiastically, but Sirius interrupted him, shaking his head as he did.
"As amazing as that sounds, we can't do it for a few reasons. Firstly, the backlash if it came out we'd been rigging the Wizengamot. We'd lose any and all support from outside the Alliance and potentially some from inside too. Secondly, we wouldn't be able to hide a sudden influx of new members. I was the last new member before you claimed your seats, Harry, and it was about ten years prior that the previous new member joined. If a load of new members start streaming in, it will definitely get out that someone has developed a process to speed things up. That could be explained perhaps by allowing the Goblins to run things and claim the process as their own but…" Sirius began to pace around the room as he spoke, gesticulating with his hands to punctuate his points. "Thirdly, whilst we are genuinely trying to improve things for all, we need a strong opposition. Just steamrollering over everyone and everything might result in us getting some quick wins, but all it will do is marginalise the losers. It could make those darker, more traditional families feel that they were right in their beliefs and support of Voldemort, and they may drag in other families that didn't or don't support the methods, but who can't stand the rate of change. Finally, that speech you gave only a few days ago? Standing against those who seek to act only in their own interest? It would paint you as someone that spouted hypocritical bullshit and shouldn't be trusted." He raised his hand apologetically at Hermione before she could scold him for his language but instead, she spoke quietly.
"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?". Harry looked over at her, puzzled. "Who will guard the guards themselves?" she explained. "It's a line by a Roman poet, Juvenal. It's actually from a poem complaining about adultery but at its essence, it's about the accountability of authority. You've positioned the Potter Alliance as the group that will hold accountable those who act in their own interest instead of that of the public. If the Potter Alliance are the guards, the people themselves will hold you accountable if things go wrong.
Harry sighed. "You're right. I know you're right, it just feels like…" he trailed off into silence.
Sirius moved over to Harry's side. "I get it, and it was definitely something worth discussing. The real kicker is that if our position were aligned with the darker families, the ethics and consequences wouldn't even be considered. But we're the good guys remember!" He ruffled Harry's hair and dodged the hand that tried to slap him away.
Albus Dumbledore glanced at the golden pocket watch he'd withdrawn from his robes and grimaced as he realised how late he was running. A last-minute communication from Minister Fudge had left him almost two hours late for his intended departure to Sweden for the ICW New Year Conference. He flicked his wand and watched as the last of the belongings that he was taking packed themselves neatly inside his trunk, then frowned down at the Elder Wand in his hand. Whilst it still performed extraordinary magic for him – 'no, it is my usual magic' he thought to himself, 'I am extraordinary' – it no longer did it with the vim and vigour with which he was used to… ever since Harry Potter had taken his seat as Lord Peverell in fact. He sighed as he scanned his office one final time, making sure he had forgotten nothing he would need for the few days of the conference. He tapped his trunk with his wand and, after shrinking it to a more manageable size, tucked it into one of the voluminous pockets of his robes.
"Expecto Patronum!" he incanted and once his familiar silver Phoenix Patronus had appeared and turned to face him, he spoke again. "Go to Minerva McGonagall." He cleared his throat and then began his message. "Minerva, I'm leaving for Sweden now and I'll be back in three days. You are in charge of the castle until then." The Patronus nodded then flew through the wall directly to Dumbledore's left, off in search of the recipient of the message it had been tasked to carry.
"Fawkes?" he called softly, turning to watch as his Phoenix companion glided over from his golden perch in the corner of the office before landing gently on his shoulder. "I'm ready when you are my friend." A small smile tugged at his lips when he realised that at least his arrival in a burst of flame would impress the other members of the ICW.
With a blast of song, Fawkes flamed the Headmaster out of the office and away to Sweden, just moments before Basil Fronsac, one of the many former Headmasters whose portraits adorned the walls of Dumbledore's office, strolled casually into his painting.
"Albus," he began. "There's a visitor…" He broke off as he realised the office was empty.
"He's just headed off to Sweden, Basil," called Dilys Derwent from her portrait on the opposite wall. "He won't be back for a few days. Minerva is in charge while he's away."
"Righto," said Basil as he strolled out of his portrait again, waving his thanks to Dilys.
"…in charge of the castle until then."
The voice of Albus Dumbledore faded along with his Patronus as Minerva McGonagall sighed. More and more of the day-to-day running of the school was falling into her lap as the Headmaster took greater and greater amounts of time away to deal with matters relating to his positions as Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump. She pushed her chair away from her desk and stood, deciding to take a short break from her work and head down to the kitchens for a cup of tea. As she left her office, Basil moved into the portrait frame across from her door.
"Sorry to bother you Minerva, but as Albus is out of the castle I need to inform you that a visitor has arrived at the front gate."
She sighed again, recognising that a cup of tea would have to wait. "Who is it?" she asked.
"Griselda Marchbanks. Here to meet with Professor Binns."
Minerva, eyebrows raised in surprise, thanked the former Headmaster and made her way to the entrance hall where she would be able to intercept the Governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority and find out what was going on. As it turned out, her timing was perfect as she had just stepped off of the grand staircase when the main door swung open to admit their visitor.
"Madam Marchbanks, a pleasure to see you again. I'm afraid you've missed Albus by only a minute or two but perhaps I can assist you?"
"He's running late then. I delayed my coming until I was sure he would be gone from the castle. I'm here to meet with Binns at his request."
"Really?" Minerva raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I wasn't aware Professor Binns had reached out to you."
Madam Marchbanks nodded. "He's looking to make some changes to the History curriculum and wanted our input. I understand Albus wasn't interested when he raised the topic and so we arranged to meet once he was out of the castle."
"If you don't mind, I'd like to accompany you to your meeting. I'm most interested in hearing his thoughts. It was my understanding that Albus had communicated his decision not to pursue any changes at this time."
Madam Marchbanks, who had begun walking towards the staircase, stopped abruptly and turned to face Minerva, who took a step back in surprise at the look of exasperation in her eyes. "Listen here Minerva, we've been asking Albus to bring the History course in line with European standards for the last two decades, but he's made excuses not to every time. Do you know how our O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in this subject are viewed on the continent? They are mocked and derided as not being worth the parchment they're written on. Finally, Binns has pulled his ghostly head out of his backside and decided to get on board and if you think I'm going to let this opportunity pass me by, you're sadly mistaken." With that, she whirled around and began climbing the stairs as quickly as her elderly body would allow.
Minerva was so taken aback by the ferocity of the statement that she simply stood for a moment, before shaking herself from her stupor and hurrying after Madam Marchbanks.
Before the holidays drew to a close, Harry and Sirius had one sorrowful task to undertake. One they, understandably and with apologies, had to postpone their scheduled meeting with Ragnok for. Dressed in mourning robes, they stood sombrely next to the Black family tomb as they welcomed the few that were invited to attend the funeral of Arcturus Black III who had passed away on Christmas day from a sudden, but severe case of Dragon Pox. In his youth, Arcturus had been a force to be reckoned with in the Wizengamot but the combination of his biting belligerence, his self-imposed isolation following the death of his wife Melania, and the war against Voldemort decimating the ranks of those few he had once called friends, saw the funeral itself sparsely attended. "I didn't like most of those brown-nosing bastards when I saw them regularly," he told Sirius shortly before his death, "they can bugger off if they think they can turn up and eat and drink and spout their bullshit on our families coin. Tell them to piss off."
"Lord Black, Lord Black-Potter, thank you for allowing me to attend on this sad, sad day." Cornelius Fudge approached, his lime green bowler hat clutched in one hand as he reached out with the other to shake.
"Thank you for coming Minister," replied Sirius, grasping his hand and shaking firmly. "Did you know my Grandfather well?"
"We only spoke once. I was a Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at the time. It was a year or so after your dreadful, mistaken imprisonment and he came to see me in the Ministry, asking about the day you were arrested. I was one of the first on the scene you know." Fudge paused and looked abashed, twisting his bowler round and round by the brim in his hands. "I'd always thought it odd that I'd never been asked for testimony about that day but believed, mistakenly as it turned out, that you'd had your day in court, and I simply wasn't needed. I apologise again, Lord Black, for not looking into things further and simply believing justice had been served."
"As I've told you before Cornelius, your apology is not necessary," Sirius replied smoothly. "There were many more people, in significantly more senior positions than you, that failed me that day. But anyway, we're not here to drag through that mess again."
"Quite right. I'll leave you to greet the other attendees. My condolences again." He held out his hand once more and shook both Sirius and Harry's hands again before moving off.
Harry and Sirius watched him go then started suddenly at the sound of a throat clearing behind them. Turning swiftly Harry found himself face-to-face with an elderly lady carrying a gnarled walking stick who, judging from her features, appeared to be another member of the Black family. She looked Harry up and down as though scrutinising him, then turned to Sirius. "Lord Black," she nodded, holding out her hand for him to kiss. Her voice sounded dusty, as though from lack of use.
"Aunt Cassie!" Sirius exclaimed, bending to kiss the offered appendage. "I thought you weren't well enough to attend?"
"Yes. Well, Arcturus was my brother. I had to make sure he was actually dead this time, the miserable old bastard. Every time we thought he was finally taking a dirt nap, he'd pop up healthier than ever. I told him I'd outlive him, but he was convinced he'd be dancing around on my grave long after I'd gone. I'm glad to get one final one over on him the crusty old codger."
Harry snorted in amusement as there was clearly no malice in the words she was saying, then froze as her gaze swung quickly back to him.
"So. This is him then, is it? The Heir to our Noble and Most Ancient House?" She looked him up and down once more. "Stand up straight boy!" she snapped, and Harry hurriedly complied, manfully ignoring the quiet sniggers coming from Sirius' direction. She held out her hand for Harry to kiss.
"Well?" she demanded of Sirius. "Introduce me then boy!"
"Harry, this is my Great Aunt, Cassiopeia Black. As she's already mentioned, Grandfather Arcturus was her brother. She's also the keeper of the 'Black Book'."
"The 'Black Book'?" Harry asked, quizzically.
"That's not for discussion here you idiot," she hissed at Sirius, sending him a baleful glare. "Honestly, you should have more sense than that you great buffoon."
Sirius glanced around to make sure none of the other mourners had heard, then looked apologetically at his Great Aunt who had already turned back to Harry. She studied him once more, then nodded as though seemingly approving of him. "You can call me Aunt Cassie."
"Thank you, Aunt Cassie." He replied, bemused by the situation.
"Where's your ring, young man?"
"My ring?"
"Yes, the Black Heir ring. Why aren't you wearing it?"
Harry looked over at Sirius, nonplussed. "I wasn't aware there was a ring. Sirius?"
Sirius nodded. "Yeah, I never wore it myself, what with how well I got on with my family. I always assumed Regulus was made Heir." He tapped his chin as he thought. "I'd guess it's either in the vault at Gringotts or in the Lord's study at the Manor. Not that I know where the damn room is now." Seeing the expression of confusion on Harry's face, he clarified his statement. "The study relocates to a new area of the Manor each time the former Lord passes away. Something one of our ancestors did to protect the secrets of the Head from those outside of the direct line of inheritance who might desire the position for themselves. Now my Grandfather has passed on, I'll need to visit the Manor and take control of the wards properly. That should tell me where the study is."
"Get it done soon," Cassiopeia said seriously. "That ring has been enchanted by generations of Blacks to protect the wearer. The Heir of the family has historically been seen as an easier target than the Lord so it can warn against a number of… unpleasant… potions or poisons that you may come into contact with."
Sirius nodded once more and offered his arm to his Great Aunt, escorting her to the waiting crowd of mourners.
Regrettably, the holidays soon drew to a close. As they approached the platform for his return to Hogwarts, Harry thought back to the conversation he and Sirius had had regarding the 'Black Book' and its contents as soon as they'd returned to Grimmauld Place following the funeral.
"As a Noble and Most Ancient family, the Blacks have always held a position of power in the Wizarding World, but that supremacy has been maintained by finding and hoarding the secrets of those around us. It's not something I'd prefer to use," Sirius told him when he saw the look of distaste on Harry's face, "but I can't deny there are times we may need to. There are generations of notes in that book about each of the prominent families in our world and the right bit of information at the right time may swing an insurmountable situation in our favour."
Accepting this reluctantly, Harry queried why the book was held by someone other than the Head of the family.
"Because there are things in there that would make you look very differently at people the Head needs to be able to work with," Sirius replied with a sigh. "Aunt Cassie will be passing it on to Andi shortly. I think my Grandfather's death has made her feel like she might not have much time left."
"Andi? Really?" Harry responded with a look of surprise on his face. "Obviously I know she's got steel in her, she's my proxy and I trust her completely. I'm just struggling to relate the woman who bakes me cookies and hugs the stuffing out of me every time I see her with the type of person Cassie seems to be."
"You're forgetting, Harry. Andi might be a Tonks now, but she was raised a Black. Cassie earmarked her to take over from her years ago. Don't let that nurturing demeanour fool you. She's one of the shrewdest people I've ever met."
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Harry passed through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and found Hermione waiting for him. After a quick hug in greeting and a wave goodbye to Sirius, they climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express to find their friends who had already commandeered a compartment in one of the middle carriages for the lengthy journey back north. They felt the train shudder as it slowly pulled away from the station and hadn't been chatting for long when there was a knock on the compartment door.
"Hey guys, how are you doing? Good Christmas breaks?" Cedric Diggory poked his head around the now-open door and grinned happily at the collection of first-year students. On receipt of their affirmations, he continued speaking. "Harry, can I borrow you for a few minutes?"
"Yeah, sure," Harry replied as he stood, wondering what Cedric could want from him as he followed him into the corridor and to another compartment in the next carriage down.
Cedric opened the door. "Here we go, in here."
Harry stepped inside and glanced around at the group of older Hufflepuffs who were grinning cheerfully up at him from their seats. Derek Alderton gave him a little wave in greeting as Cedric nudged him further into the compartment and pulled the door shut behind him. He offered Harry his previously vacated seat and chose to lean up against the door instead. Harry sat apprehensively on the edge of the seat and looked back up at Cedric. "What do you need?" he asked, but rather than responding, Cedric simply pointed to Derek who was now leaning forward, a serious expression on his face.
"Hi Harry, good to see you. Good Christmas?"
"Yes, thanks…" Harry replied, wondering what on earth was going on. "You?"
"Yeah, great thanks. Listen, we've got something we want to talk to you about."
Harry looked around at the other faces in the compartment and realised he recognised everyone present. "Should I be concerned that the entire Hufflepuff Quidditch team has cornered me?"
"Nope!" Heidi Macavoy, one of the team's chasers beamed at him. "We just wanted to sound you out about something."
"Malcolm's decided to call it quits," Derek said, gesturing to the boy who nodded from the corner of the compartment.
"What happened in our last game really shook me up," he said unashamedly. "I play for fun, not because I want to make it to the League like some of this lot. I'd rather sit out and concentrate on my N.E.W.T.s. Support these guys from the stands instead." Harry nodded sympathetically.
Derek patted Malcolm on the shoulder supportively. "Madam Hooch has decided that the game with Ravenclaw will be replayed due to… you know." Derek waved his hand airily, glossing over the incident from earlier in the year. "So, Cedric is going to step across and play Chaser. We've all seen you fly… if we can get Professor Sprout on board, what do you think about playing Seeker this year rather than sitting in reserve?"
Harry simply grinned in response.
A/N: Another Harry/Hermione recommendation this time.
"The Plan" by RiverWriter