In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 10: Quidditch
Ron and Hermione left Gryffindor Tower Monday morning, held hands as they went along, both dressed in their formal slacks and shirts.
"We need a new dress code," Ron said, "One that's easier to maintain."
"You mean you want to go around starkers," Hermione said.
"Well, I meant girls too," Ron said, "You know, fairness."
"Uh–huh," Hermione retorted.
"It'd make for nice classes if we were all reminded how pretty you are," Ron said. He took a moment to reconsider. "Sure, your mind shows through, but that shirt tries to hide everything."
"I think that's the point," Hermione said, "Besides, its never really warm enough around here for that."
"Likely them just being cheap, cut back on the heating," Ron said, "But, think of how much they'd save on laundry!'
"Write it down and submit a petition," Hermione said.
"Dear Professor McGonagall," Ron said, pretending to pen a letter in the air, "I hearby request that we change Hermione Granger's dress code to nothing at all. It'd really improve my concentration to see her starkers all day long. Sincerely, Ronald Weasley."
Hermione snorted.
"Well, it would," Ron said.
"Concentration on me, perhaps, but unless you're suggesting I sit in the front of the class—" Hermione started.
"What a lovely idea!" Ron said, "We'll just ask Professor McGonagall—"
"Ask me what?" asked Professor McGonagall as Ron and Hermione turned the corner to face her.
"Nothing important," Ron said, "On our way to breakfast."
"Which is already underway," Professor McGongall said, "When you see Mr. Potter, please inform him that I need to see him, it will only take a short while."
"We will," Hermione said.
Professor McGonagall headed off, Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall.
"Your todger must be one confused beast," Seamus said, starting to leave.
"It's hanging fine and ready for use!" Ron snapped.
"I didn't need to know," Seamus said, leaving.
"YOU ASKED!" Ron retorted.
Hermione pulled Ron to sit at the Gryffindor table.
"He was baiting you," Hermione said as she sat next to Ron.
"My dick's just fine," Ron said, "Wanna check?"
"I'm not gonna toss you at breakfast!" Hermione said.
An owl dropped The Daily Prophet into Hermione's hands, she opened it, read as she worked through her yogurt.
"We skipped it last night," Ron said, "It's underutilized." Ron grabbed some sausages, ate.
"Not … at … BREAKFAST!" Hermione said.
"Alright, before class?" Ron asked.
"You don't have time," Hermione said.
"In class?" Ron asked.
"NO!" Hermione scolded.
Ron sighed when a package was delivered by an owl, to him.
"Read this," Hermione said, her eyes on the paper, at an article on the back page.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Monday, 2 September, 1996
The Daily Prophet
Potter Fatigue?
Rita Skeeter
Unconfirmed sources indicate that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, experienced a mental breakdown, having spent the weekend in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The school remained silent when I attempted to reach out to verify these claims. Whether this is related to Harry Potter's sex life has yet to be determined.
"Bloody same codswollop," Ron said, "Anyways…" He took the note from the brown wrapped package, opened it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Hello handsome, let this improve the day.
Ron opened the package, lifted the top of the box.
WHOMP!
Yellow dust, pollen, billowed out of the box, covering Ron. He immediately smelled the heavy flowered scent.
"What the—?!" Ron stammered.
"Interesting," Hermione said.
"I smell like a garden!" Ron grumbled, "What was it?"
"I saw this at Diagon," Hermione said, "It's intended for a girlfriend."
"Ha, ha," Ron said, "I bet you're involved in this."
"No," Hermione said, "Though you'll be smelling like that all day."
"Does it wash off?" Ron asked.
"Should," Hermione said.
"Come, lets bang in the showers," Ron said, standing.
"It's way past time to shower," Hermione said, "You only have fifteen minutes to class."
"It's enough," Ron said, "See you there."
Ron ran. He ran up the corridors and stairs, huffing as he came to Gryffindor Tower, and kept running, striping as he ran up the spiral stairs. Ron was starkers when he entered the dormitory, his todger aroused; and a simple brush of his hand against his flesh meant the chore had to be done before class. Ron began to toss as he entered the shower; Harry was already there, under the other shower head, beneath the hot water, soaping himself up. Harry was also aroused, but was washing himself.
"Good morning," Harry said as he rinsed, "Should probably do the same. Though, are you wearing perfume?"
Harry stopped the water, his own hand curled.
"Hermione wouldn't—" Ron said, "Think she gave me whatever threw it on me."
"Hi ya!" Colin Creevey said, standing a few feet away with a camera in his hands.
Click!
Both Harry and Ron, in the shower together, released their sticky messes.
"Eww," Colin said, "Just wanted a couple of shower shots for Ginny."
"Freak accident," Ron said.
Click!
"Get the fuck out of here!" Harry said to Colin, "Take pictures of Ginny!"
"She's my sister," Ron said to Harry.
"Alright, alright," Colin said, "Got what I came for."
Colin left.
"Sorry about that," Ron said, "He's a bit annoying."
Ron washed, Harry finished. They got dressed, left for class.
"What's the class?" Harry asked.
"Um…" Ron said, "Potions, I think."
They ran.
"Ten points each for being tardy," Professor Snape said, "And five points each for failing to comb your hair."
"Easy," Ron whispered to Harry, "Think of Quidditch."
"Quiet down, lover boys!" Malfoy said to Harry and Ron.
"Quidditch," Ron whispered.
Harry and Ron moved toward Hermione, who was at a table with Parvati Patil.
"Two at a station," Professor Snape said.
Harry and Ron went to the empty cauldron, studied the notes on the board, and began to get out their ingredients.
Later, Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall for lunch, Ron reached for Harry's hand.
"Don't hold my hand," Harry said.
"Oh," Ron said as he removed his hand from Harry's.
Snickers, whispering followed as Harry and Ron sat next to each other on the bench at the table.
"You know, at times you can be a real pain in the arse," Harry said.
"A fun pain, I hope," Ron said.
"That perfume, that aphrodisiac, it affected you," Harry said, "So ignore those feelings!"
"It's not my fault!" Ron quipped.
"I know it's not your fault!" Harry said, "Still, it ain't helping quell those stupid rumors about us being gay!"
"Good choice Ron," Ginny said, "Only bloke who wouldn't turn you down."
"Shove it!" Ron belted back.
"That girlfriend trick had us fooled," Seamus said, "Not for too long Potter!"
"It's my LIFE!" Harry said, "Just because you're fucking up your own sex life—"
"Belt it!" Seamus retorted.
"Then LEAVE ME ALONE!" Harry replied.
Harry left the Great Hall, Ron followed.
"Are you sure about this Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked; it was the end of Transfiguration, Ron and Hermione were hanging in the back of the classroom.
"Yes," Harry said.
"It is generous," Professor McGonagall said, "Thank you."
Harry walked to the door.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked.
"Nothing," Harry said, "I've got Oliver Wood next."
"Learning to fly?" Ron asked.
"It's about teaching him to fly," Harry replied.
They laughed. Harry went fast, up the stairs and corridors.
Harry loved Ron, of course, as a friend. Ron was the twin Harry wish he had, instead, they were best friends. A lover wasn't what Harry had in mind with Ron. Whatever dusted Ron that morning made him very eager. However, given the rumor, a lesson away from Ron seemed like a good idea.
Harry entered the dormitory, stopped for a moment. On both Harry's and Ron's four poster beds were giant red hearts stuck to them, along with ribbons, in Gryffindor red and yellow, and pink. Bows and flowers were littered on both bed covers and across the floor.
Harry sighed, stripped off his clothes, put on his Gryffindor Quidditch robes. Harry opened the window and jumped out into the cold overcast day. Harry mounted his Firebolt as he fell, regained control, and headed for the Quidditch Pitch.
"You know there's such a thing as walking," Oliver Wood said as Harry landed in the middle. Oliver adjusted his dark sweater.
Surrounding Oliver were a bunch of Shooting Stars and a bunch of younger first years. Eyes focused on Harry.
"Are you the Harry Potter?" asked a tall young blond hair boy in Hufflepuff clothes.
"Yes he is—that's Buck?" Oliver asked.
"No, it's Gale," the boy said.
"Welcome to your first flying lesson," Oliver Wood said to the group, "Mr. Potter is a sixth year, so he'll be assisting me as this lesson typically needs. Stand next to your broom."
Harry put his Firebolt down, as he saw Wood point.
"Now, command your broom," Oliver said to the group, "UP!"
A Shooting Star went up to Oliver's hand.
"Up!" came the chorus.
Half of the students' brooms went up, the other half stayed on the ground.
"Can we fly that?" Gale asked, pointing at Harry's Firebolt.
"That is Mr. Potter's and a performance model," Oliver Wood said, "It is not a beginner's broom, which is what you first need to learn to fly."
Harry walked around, demonstrated to a couple of kids; Oliver did the same. One black haired boy with blue eyes, in Gryffindor, stood, trembling.
"It's easy," Harry said, approaching him, "All you have to do…"
"Wha…" the boy said, quietly, before simply moving his mouth, the breath giving a bit of steam in the brisk air.
"What's your name?" Harry asked.
"Ash," Gale said, standing nearby.
"Ash," Harry said, "Just got to be determined, own the broom. Try it."
Ash mumbled, nothing happened.
"Practice it, like this," Harry said, before his voice boomed, "UP!"
Two brooms snapped upward; Harry caught one, the other settled back down.
Ash mumbled again.
"Speak up," Harry said.
Ash shook his head.
"Do you want to fly?" Harry asked.
Ash nodded.
"Okay," Harry said, "Lets try it again."
Harry watched the blue eyes twitch, hand stretched, the broom rolled over.
"Grab the broom," Harry said, "Follow."
Ash grabbed it, followed Harry. Harry realized why Oliver Wood asked for help, reminded him of that first time he flew, it came natural to him but a foreign skill to most others. Ron, though, had already flown a bit owing to his older brothers. Harry led Ash to the other end of the Quidditch Pitch, turned around.
"Relax," Harry said to Ash, "You're here. Let's learn to fly, just need to get the hang of it. Can you talk?"
"Yeah," Ash said softly, he trembled, blushed.
Harry drew his wand, aimed it at Ash.
"Virtutis!" Harry said, "It means courage." He knew his magic, emitted a few sparks. "Gryffindor courage, that's what you have."
Ash glanced at the wood support to the stands.
"TERMITES!" Ash yelled, "TERMITES!"
Ash ran. Harry flicked his wand, his Firebolt came screaming across the field, and Harry jumped on. He stashed his wand, aimed the broom to go right beneath Ash's posterior, swooping down. Harry's arms went around Ash's torso as the handle flew under Ash, forcing Ash to be right in front of Harry. Harry's hands gripped the handle in front of Ash, pulled up.
"Hold on!" Harry said.
Ash's hands roamed backward, seeking something to hold onto, when they latched onto the handle between him and Harry.
"Um…um…" Ash muttered.
"It's alright," Harry said, "Here."
Harry made a couple laps of the Quidditch Pitch, staying a dozen feet above the ground, before he came back down to the Shooting Star in the grass of the field.
"Think you can fly now?" Harry asked, "Willing to give it a go?"
"Yeah," Ash replied, "Though it won't work."
"Courage, remember Gryffindor courage," Harry said, "Command the broom to come up."
"Up," Ash muttered.
The broom turned over.
"Again," Harry said.
"Up!" Ash said, this time, the broom hovered halfway up.
"Be confident," Harry said, "It works for you."
"UP!" Ash exclaimed; the broom rose gradually up to the hand.
"Now, get onto it like so," Harry said, demonstrating, "And hold the handle."
Ash trembled, did this, but he began to rise. Ash tumbled, held by his hands to the broom as he rose above the stands.
"TERMITES!" Ash yelled.
Harry, meanwhile, bolted upward, flew fast, grabbed Ash around the waist; Ash let the broom go.
"Let's get it," Harry said, as Ash scrambled to sit on Harry's broom handle, behind Harry.
Ash reached around Harry's waist, held on. Harry made an easy chase of the Shooting Star, grabbed on, and they returned to the ground.
"Try again?" Harry said, "This time—hold onto me and we'll fly together, side by side, alright?"
Harry put the Firebolt between his legs, gripped the handle. Ash's left hand reached over, held on. Harry did a slow walk, Ash pushed, and Harry rose with him.
"Lets keep it easy, nice and low," Harry said.
They flew; six feet off the air, but Ash flew.
"Nervous?" Harry asked.
Ash nodded.
"I like you," Harry said.
"Ta," Ash said.
They made a lap of the Quidditch Pitch, came to land. Oliver Wood came over.
"Harry, there's more than one student in this class," Oliver Wood said.
"Ash needs practice, but he'll fly," Harry said.
"You used all of the lesson for just one," Oliver Wood said.
"Sorry," Harry said, "I sorted him out and guess I'll have to help for the next one, tomorrow, right?"
"That remains to be seen," Oliver Wood said.
"I'm sorry!" Harry said, catching up with Oliver Wood returning to the students.
"Class dismissed!" Oliver Wood announced.
"I don't understand," Harry said.
Oliver Wood stood there until the last of the others walked away. Oliver focused on Harry, studied him.
"I'm sorry about having to be harsh," Oliver Wood said, "I had fifty two students, I was hoping you could handle half of them."
"Sorry," Harry said, "Ash was too shy, he wouldn't even talk."
"Not uncommon among first years," Oliver Wood said.
"Do we let one suffer who can use my help?" Harry said, "Sounds like something Professor Snape would do."
"Hey!" Oliver Wood said, "You've mastered the OWLs because teachers were willing to teach. You're headed for NEWTs, being able to teach is something you ought to learn too."
"Sorry, didn't think of that," Harry said.
"I asked Professor McGonagall for an assistant, you, because it's fifty two students," Oliver Wood said, "I'm inexperienced too, so I was able to get you. If you're going to do one on one, then I need fifty two assistants, and that's not going to fly."
"Ash really needed it," Harry replied.
"I know," Oliver Wood said, "If you find somebody who needs one on one, talk to me so I can make arrangements. Understood?"
"Yes," Harry said.
Ron approached the Pitch, dressed in his robes. Others were following.
"Harry's got the wrong outfit," Ron said, "Supposed to be skin."
"You'd like me flying naked?" Harry asked.
"Of course," Ron said, "You'd look gorgeous."
"Well," Oliver Wood said, "Officially I have to tell you that this is your game, though I'll answer any questions that you may have. However, I'm required to stay neutral."
Ron came over, hugged Harry tightly, kissed him on the lips.
"Just a moment, Ron," Harry said, pushing Ron back, "Got something McGonagall wanted me to give you."
Harry rummaged in the pocket of his Quidditch robes, pulled out a badge, handed it to Ron.
"Captain?!" Ron asked, snatching it from Harry, a grin came to the face. "W–Why? How?"
"You're simply the best for Quidditch Captain," Harry said.
"Harry?" Oliver Wood asked.
"He is," Harry said.
"I need to discuss this with Professor McGonagall," Oliver Wood said as he turned around, he left.
"Feels like charity," Ron muttered.
"Congratulations," said Josh Brenner, a seventh year Gryffindor who was on the last year's team.
"Just say 'Thank You' and be happy," Harry said to Ron.
Ron fixed the pin to the lapel of his robes, before he moved in to hug Harry, again.
"New uniform, for you," Ron said, reaching for the buttons of Harry's robes, "Skin." Ron unbuttoned, letting Harry's robes fall to the ground. was naked, except for his shoes.
"So, we're just going to use body paint?" Harry asked, as a pair of first years took his robes.
"Good idea!" Ron said.
Ron nearly tackled Harry, brought him to the grass, rolled on top of him.
"Been out here a while already?" Ron asked.
Colin had his camera out.
Click!
"I came to play Quidditch," Ginny said, "Not see my brother make out!"
"Ron, cut it out," Harry said, "It's that stupid perfume doing it!"
"Oh, yeah," Ron said, standing up, "That."
Harry stood up. He looked around for his robes, saw them, as the First Years had taken to setting it on fire. A quick thought, Harry extended his hand, his wand flew out of the robes, escaping the inferno, came to his hand. Harry stashed his wand into the bristles of his broom.
"Rotten luck," Ron said, seeing the fire.
"You stripped me!" Harry snapped.
"Oh, yeah, you look good," Ron said to Harry, "Do a bit of flying, take a dump, and it's a new Bludger."
"No!" Harry retorted.
"Is this the new uniform?" asked Justin Prewett, coming onto the Pitch, pointing toward Harry.
"He's trying it out," Ron said.
"I'll still be the deputy Captain," Harry said, "Alright?"
"Yeah," Ron said.
Harry kicked off his socks and shoes, figured there wasn't a point to them; though it was cold, the grass on his feet felt better. Harry felt awkward, of course, this was Hogwarts. He briefly considered flying back to the castle, to get something else to wear, but he didn't want to cut down on their time on the Pitch; thus, he decided to suck it up and stick to the skin.
"Okay," Harry said, "Since Oliver Wood left them out, everybody grab a Shooting Star."
Colin took a picture of Harry before he grabbed a broom.
"I'll use my Cleansweep—" Ginny started.
"No, use a Shooting Star," Harry said.
"Cruel, cruel, Harry—" Ron said.
"Talent," Harry replied.
"And I run the show," Ron said, pointing to his Captain badge.
"I need a notebook," Harry said, "I'll write everybody's name down!"
Ron reached into his bookbag.
"Yep, Hermione left it," Ron said.
Ron handed Harry a spiral notebook, hearts printed on every sheet, and a pen. Ginny was first.
"G..i..n..e..r..v..a.." Ginny said, talking as slow as she could, "W..e..a..s..l..e..y.."
"I know who you are," Harry said.
Colin came up next.
" Colin Creevey," Colin said.
One by one, Harry recorded the names, each person taking a closer look at the starkers teenager.
"Okay, I want to see you all fly!" Ron said.
One by one, the others mounted.
"And Harry, fly behind them so I pay attention!" Ron said.
Harry mounted his Firebolt, flew upward. Ron's eyes made no secret, kept glancing at Harry as Ron clearly struggled to fight the effects of that powder of the morning.
"Wish I had my Comet," Justin Prewett said.
"Come on, flying," Ron said, "From that end—" he pointed at the east goals "—to the other—" pointed to the west ones "—race. Everybody line up."
They all flew to the east goals; while Ron went to the west.
"GO!" Ron shouted.
Harry flew with the group, out stripped them all, as his Firebolt flew faster.
"You should've used a Shooting Star yourself," Ron said to Harry.
"Alright, extra credit," Harry said, flying close to Ron.
Ron's eyes traced Harry's features.
"Okay, extra points," Ron said, "Get your balls—I meant the Quidditch ones."
Harry flew down to beneath the stand.
"There are most definitely termites in there," Ash said, standing nearby. Ash was in a more casual sweater than earlier.
Harry grabbed the box, pulled it out.
"The Flying lesson is over for you," Harry said.
"Curious," Ash replied, "Still, stay away from the termites."
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said.
Harry carried the box back into the middle of the pitch, opened it. All the practice balls were there, numerous Quaffles, along with restrained bludgers and snitches.
"Everybody, warm up!" Ron announced.
Harry stood there for a few moments, watched the others come down and depart with Quaffles. They got tossed back and forth.
"Pay attention!" Josh Brenner snapped at Ron.
"Yeah, yeah," Ron said.
Harry mounted his Firebolt, flew up, and kept pace between the different potential players.
Ron kept watching it all, taking notes, despite the occasional glances at Harry. Harry kept flying, assisting, as Bludgers flew, and Quaffles soared. Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon. A whistle blew, as Oliver Wood came back marching across the field.
"We need more time," Ron said.
"Need tomorrow?" Oliver Wood said, "It's just a house team, you can always have pickup games."
"Alright," Ron said, "I'll have to mull these over."
"And you—" Oliver Wood pointed to Harry, "Yes, you!"
Harry flew down, the eyes observing Harry's natural state.
"Accident, but the game must go on," Harry said.
"Next time, send for a replacement!" Oliver Wood said.
"I was waiting for it to get dark," Harry said.
"Get inside!" Oliver Wood said, "I'll see to a replacement set as you've likely outgrown the old ones anyways."
Harry flew, headed for the castle, and slipped into the window into the to dressfrontcrotch"Only for a minute's errand?" Ron said, "Gryffindor courage."
Ron grabbed the captain's pin, moved it to his boxers, and left the dormitory; Josh followed. Harry grabbed his wand, his PortKey, and activated it.
Ron's red and white checkered boxers flexed with his legs as he came down the stairs into the Gryffindor common room. He blushed as all the eyes went onto him as he pinned the list to the bulletin board.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Ronald Weasley
Captain & Keeper
Harry Potter
Seeker
Josh Brenner
Chaser
Ginny Weasley
Chaser
Natalie MacDonald
Chaser
Colin Creevey
Reserve Chaser
Justin Prewett
Beater
Paul Prewett
Beater
"As you can see, we have eight!" Ron said.
Mutterings came around.
"There was a lot of interest," Ron said, "And it's good to have a reserve, congratulations. Practice starts tomorrow."
"Ron," Hermione said, coming up to him.
A couple of cat calls came as Hermione touched Ron's boxers.
"Can we—up there?" Ron pointed.
Hermione followed him up the the steps.
"You're the captain?" Hermione asked.
"Yep," Ron said, "Captain of the house team."
Ron dropped his boxers as he entered the dormitory, removed the captain pin from the boxers, affixed it back to his Quidditch robes laying on his trunk.
"I like the new uniform," Hermione said, giving a couple of light slaps to Ron's buttocks.
"This isn't the uniform," Ron said, turning around.
"Sure it could be," Hermione said, leaning into Ron, "A bit of body paint and features wouldn't stand out too much. Gryffindor red, and it'll be a match people would pay attention to."
"You mean you want to see me—heh," Ron said, laughing for a moment, "Doubt McGonagall would agree."
"I think I'll have to re–read the rules," Hermione said, "See if the captain has final say to the uniform."
"I doubt that," Ron said, "Nice thought though—maybe find a more secluded spot, perform for you?"
"I'd…I'd like that," Hermione said.
Ron sat on his four poster, watched as she began to strip.
"Gotta admit, I'm thinking Harry right now," Ron said.
"You'll get over it," Hermione said, "Don't mind giving you a bit of therapy, Captain."
"You'd like that," Ron said, "Nice of Professor McGonagall to—"
"Hang on," Hermione said, reaching for a letter on Harry's small desk, read it. Ron stood, read over the shoulder.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Dear Mr. Potter,
You are hereby selected to be the captain for Gryffindor House's Quidditch Team for the following school year. Enclosed is a pin, a symbol of your authority.
Good luck and bring glory to our house.
Sincerely, Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House
"And more damn—OWW!" Ron jumped back as his toe had hit Harry's trunk.
Hermione spun around, her finger pointed at Ron.
"No wonder you're still poor!" Hermione said, "You wouldn't know what to do with a treasure—you've got the most precious of treasures, a true friend, and you're pissing on him! You've got friends, friends who want you to be happy, and you have family, a real family, with parents and siblings. Count your blessings Ronald Bilius Weasley! Count your blessings!"
Ron stayed quiet, but trembled a bit.
"Let him win!" Hermione said, "You will both be richer for it, far richer than Malfoy ever could be."
"Hermione…" Ron started.
She looked him over, the brown eyes studied every square inch.
"Heard a rumor that Malfoy's paying good money—not nearly as good as what you have," Hermione said, "And he has to pay a fortune to use it—count your blessings."
"It's hard for me," Ron said, "Mum and Dad always proud they were making it, on their own. Fred and George are doing it too. It's not easy taking a hand–out, taking charity, because it's insulting, it's a judgment that I'm not fit!"
"You are fit, that's why he gave it to you," Hermione said, "He had to of asked Professor McGonagall—so that's what he was talking to her about at the end of the lesson! She wouldn't have agreed if you weren't capable. Pay Harry back, be the best captain you can be. Thank him—"
"Good idea," Ron said.
"Just remember he wanted you to be happy," Hermione said, "He could've just as easily kept the position, shown you the letter, and had no arguments. Instead, Harry gave it to you. Think on that."
"I will," Ron said.
Ron let Hermione guide him to his four poster.
Harry showed up to Hogwarts, Ron with him.
"Next time, don't oversleep your alarm!" Ron exclaimed.
They went into the shower, taking adjacent stalls.
Flash! Click!
"Blimey!" Harry yelled.
Colin was standing there, camera in his hands, aimed at Harry and Ron. Colin was smiling.
"Not what it seems!" Colin said, stepping backward, fast.
Harry bolted first, Ron behind, chased Colin. Colin took the steps back and fell, rolling down the stairs. Colin fell faster than Harry could fly down the stairs. At the bottom, Colin stepped to the side, steadied his camera, but stuck his foot back out. Harry tripped over Colin's foot. Harry tumbled, collided; Ron fell; as both of them crashed into Hermione.
Flash! Click!
Colin's camera repeatedly flashed, taking pictures as fast as the film could handle.
"Ow," Hermione muttered.
Harry was directly on top of Hermione; Ron laid on Harry's backside.
Flash! Click!
Applause came from around the room. Ron stood up first, glared at Ginny. Harry pointed as he stood, his glare directed at Colin.
"Cut that out!" Harry demanded.
Colin's hands moved fast, rescued his dropped camera.
"See Harry's butt?" Ginny asked.
Harry reached down, lent Hermione a hand, she used it to pull herself up. He glanced at her shirt, the water that was on him was pushed against her bosom. Colin's finger returned to pressing the button on his camera.
Flash! Click!
"What…?" Harry started to ask Hermione, however, realized his exposure in the common room.
Catcalls, laughter, chased Harry back up the stairs. Ron and Hermione followed Harry back up the stairs.
"Blimey!" Harry complained as he entered his dormitory, "I'd like to have a shower in peace!"
Harry went into the shower. Hermione fidgeted in her clothes, her hands constantly readjusted.
"Um, you okay?" Ron said, "Looks like you got the wrong size."
"Shouldn't be," Hermione said as her shirt got tighter and tighter, "Think these got cursed."
RIP!
Seams began to split, tear open as the shirt shrunk, reduced itself to shards of vanishing fabric. Her knickers shrunk as well, popping the buttons.
"Wait until I finish," Ron said, went for the shower, "We'll sneak back over and get you something."
Hermione followed, all her clothes had fallen off.
"You'd fit," Ron said.
"I already took my shower," Hermione said, "Look, I went through my entire trunk, those were the only thing to fit, everything else was either way too small or too big."
"Somebody tampered with it?" Ron said.
"Tell me you both know nothing of this!" Hermione said.
"Who'd you take me for?" Ron asked.
"Somebody who'd love to see my wardrobe fall apart in the middle of the day," Hermione said.
"Hermione, we'd save that for the evenings," Harry said, rinsing before turning around, "Given Ron's package yesterday, any chance it's related?"
"Possible," Hermione said.
Harry turned off the water, grabbed a large fluffy white towel, dried himself as he stepped out.
"You can borrow something of mine," Harry said, "If there's something else, make a list and I'll fly to your parents' tonight."
"Might look less tacky to borrow mine," Ron said, "You know, instead of explaining why your clothes are marked Harry Potter."
Ron came out, rummaged his trunk, threw a dress shirt and jumper at her. Harry lent her a spare pair of trousers. They quickly dressed, and went back the stairs, inot the common room, where the entire room filled up with pink ribbons fluttering down; everybody else had apparently already left.
"Any guesses?" Hermione said.
Cards, many cards attached to small pink balloons, came floating down, each one had Adam, Eve, and Steve, written on it.
Harry groaned, and they left the common room.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the castle after Care of Magical Creatures. Groups of other students kept their distance, giggled or laughed as they glanced at the three.
"Any guesses?" Ron asked.
"Think I can get it with one," Harry said, "Malfoy stayed strangely quiet."
"I'm glad I didn't have to listen to that stupid git," Ron said.
"It's the rumors," Hermione said, "With them, Malfoy doesn't need to bother creating anything, we've heard it all."
They entered the castle, went to the Great Hall, and sat at the table. Hermione took delivery of The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, while Ron helped himself to quite a few sandwiches including a few grilled cheese on tuna salad. Ron flipped open Witch Weekly.
"Well, if you want to remember the shower this morning," Ron said, spreading the magazine open. Glossy pictures of Harry and Ron were on several pages.
"I'm guessing Colin got his pictures developed," Harry said, "I took a shower, like I always do. How the bloody hell is that news?"
"A little bug has the juicy," Hermione said, "Not the front page, mind you, more toward the back."
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Tuesday, 10 September, 1996
The Daily Prophet
A Boy's True Wish
Rita Skeeter
Salacious sources reveal that Harry Potter, the thirteen year old Boy–Who–Lived, is exploring his confused sexual identity at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which remains cloudy to those nearest to him. Mr. Potter has been caught on numerous occasions soliciting unflattering favors from his fellow classmates. Boys are not safe as Mr. Potter has been observed in acts of sodomy that would make his deceased mother less than proud if she were to learn of the truth. Yours truly advises Hogwarts to educate Harry Potter on the facts of life, including the primary truth that a wizard ought to be interested in witches, and to pick one, just one, to dedicate his life to.
"So, you didn't even tell your best mate you're sleeping around?" Ron said to Harry, "Next time, invite me along."
"Ron!" Hermione said.
"I was only joking," Ron said.
"Well, they seem to have gotten your better side," Harry said, flipping through the Witch Weekly, "Should ask around to share a bath with a few others, you know, change of scenery."
Pink ribbons fluttered down from the ceiling, right over Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"Can we start a rumor?" Harry said, "Something a bit naughtier to get them to think of something else?"
"Sure, piss in the food," Ron said, "Your favorite thing."
"Not us, somebody like, say, Slytherin," Harry said, "Their favourite drink."
"Strong drink," Ron said.
"It'd work, wouldn't it?" Harry asked.
"Too out of there," Hermione said, "I'll have work something out during your practice."
After that afternoon's Transfiguration, Hermione went for the library while Harry and Ron headed for Gryffindor Tower.
"First day of practice!" Ron shouted.
Harry and Ron climbed the stairs to the third floor, went along the corridor toward the next flight of stairs.
"Got a strategy?" Harry asked.
Faint footsteps echoed underneath their own, they turned down the long corridor that was lined with suits of armor on both sides.
"Have to watch the interaction," Ron said.
"Teamwork is—" Harry stopped, glanced at one of the suits. "—sup…"
Quidditch left their minds, replaced by the sudden realization that the armor was moving, relocated and were moving to sandwich Harry and Ron between two intersecting fronts. An assortment of all the blades began to hurl toward them.
"Duck!" Harry shouted as he shoved Ron down toward the floor, out of the path of the oncoming metal hail.
Harry began to lunge downward himself, but the first of the daggers punctured and tore into his shoulder. A quick glow of light shimmered across him, levitating, thwarting his fast drop, leaving him in the way as the deadly instruments went to work. An axe bit into Harry's left bicep, a morning star tattooed itself into his buttocks, a pole arm burrowed through his chest and lung, and a sword hurled itself at his neck.
"Harry!" Ron yelled.
Harry bled profusely as his ragdoll body hit the floor with a sickly thud, he laid motionless in the gathering pool of blood.
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024