"What's the point of training this early?" Hermione asked. "It's the school year and I don't think most of the quidditch team is planning on going pro. Harry, definitely not yet."

Ron shrugged. "Wood might. Fred and George say he eats, sleeps, and breathes quidditch. Bit barmy if you ask me."

Hermione ate a couple of bites of toast as they walked towards the pitch. It wasn't as barmy as Ron thought, but there was a reason that they weren't on the team. And not just because no spots had opened up that year.

"What's that?" Ron asked, speeding up his walking.

It looked like the Slytherin team had decided that they were going to try to take the pitch. Hermione didn't know how that was going to work or who one should even talk to in order to resolve the issue.

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

Malfoy went off for a bit about the new brooms his father had purchased.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," she said dismissively. "They got in on pure talent."

The smirk dropped off Malfoy's face. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

Hermione could see that Harry was confused. And she'd likely have been in a similar position, had she never been around someone who could explain it. But thankfully other places didn't have the same prejudices.

"How dare you!" Ron yelled

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course he would try to be daring and chivalrous. Without need.

A loud bang sounded. Ron's wand had backfired and he was curled up in a heap on the ground. He had an arm wrapped around his stomach and was vomiting up slugs.

"What'd you do that for?" Fred asked.

"She's Greek," George added. "She doesn't need you to defend her."

Malfoy's face turned even paler than normal. At least that was comforting to see.

"We'd probably take him to Hagrid's," Harry said. "It's closest and if he thinks we need to, one of us can go get Madame Pomfrey."

Hermione agreed and pulled Ron up by one arm. Harry grabbed the other and they walked him over to Hagrid's hut. Each of them dodged slugs as best they could. Hermione knew she was going to need to change later.

The visit with Hagrid was fairly uneventful. Ron burped and belched up more slugs, but eventually they slowed and stopped. Harry got some answers about what on earth a Mudblood was. But that was as much as he asked.

Harry seemed far more concerned with avoiding Lockhart. Which Hermione couldn't blame him for. And neither could Hagrid as it turned out.

A/N: I'm not dead. I just have two small children now. So writing is slow.