In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 25: Just a Game
"So, you decided to stick it out after all?" Richard asked during their run Thursday morning, too dark to see how much of the sky was covered in clouds.
"Yeah," Harry said, "I can always quit later, if it gets worse."
"Mum'll like this," Richard said, "She sees way too many dropouts on the job."
They approached 26 Oak St, entered. Harry went up the stairs, into Gia's bedroom, to Gia in a tight skimpy dress. Harry pulled her in tight, her cleavage pushed against him, felt his arousal pushing, and her long hair touched his hands.
"Good morning," Gia said, "Didn't you say seven?"
"Yeah," Harry said, mindful the clock was already past seven.
Harry summoned his wand, his Portkey, activated it, and they touched it. They landed, on his bed.
"A moment more," Harry said as he went for the bathroom.
"I'll be downstairs," Gia said.
Harry left the bathroom several minutes later. He went down the stairs, stopped at the balcony that overlooked the common room. Gia was stood in front of a blushing Seamus Finnigan, near the fireplace, and her hand was on his crotch.
"Of course you're pretty," Finnigan said, a grin on his face as his eyes roved across her.
"Intelligent?" Gia asked.
"Yes," Finnigan said, "Wardrobe malfunction?" He backed away. "Remember, Potter's rotten."
"I am?" Harry asked as he came into the common room.
"Yeah, you are," Finnigan said, "Bringing your muggle—"
"She's the kindest—" Harry started.
"Beast," Finnigan said.
"I don't need a wand to recognize slander," Gia said.
"Come," Harry said.
"Leave before you hex me," Finnigan snapped.
They left the common room, walked along the seventh floor corridor.
"Sorry," Gia said, "After all that he's done, I thought a little buttering up would help."
"Thanks for trying," Harry said, "I'd love for it to go back to the way it was, but he's been making his choices."
"Do not give up changing their minds," Gia said.
"I'll try, but I'm losing hope with him," Harry said, "Lets not keep Wood waiting."
"Good idea," Ron said, coming up from behind as they descended to the second floor, wearing his short–sleeve maroon knitted jumper with the large 'R' on it, which contrasted with his blue shorts.
"I thought you left—" Gia said, as Hermione caught up.
"It started when somebody wanted their hair spray," Ron said as he carried his Firebolt in his right hand.
"It was more urgent than that," Hermione said, her hands in the pockets of her blue jeans, beneath the pink zippered jumper.
"Hurry!" came the shout.
Ahead, Oliver Wood was standing in front of the Stone Gargoyle, his teeth jittering, and his arms twitching beneath his dark blue jumper.
"You won't be disappointed," Wood promised.
Harry bolted into a run, stopped just short of colliding with the gargoyle.
"Galaxy Minstrels[1]!" Harry exclaimed.
The Stone Gargoyle came to life.
"You might be visiting a bit too often," Wood said as Harry stepped onto the ascending staircase.
They entered the Headmaster's office.
"Good morning Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, "Bright and early as I see."
Oliver Wood escorted them to the fireplace, stepped in with them, and grabbed a large scoop of Floo Powder. Oliver threw it down into the simmering flames, exploded with green.
"Puddlemere United Country Club!" Oliver Wood exclaimed.
They spun as they went through, into the darkness, fireplace after fireplace went by.
…
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Gia, and Oliver Wood stepped out of a fireplace, into a crowded room. It was a room crowded with mostly young adults, casually dressed. Pumpkins and cauldrons lined the walls. Harry, though, pushed through, and stood in front of an enormous green pitch. Not escaping the shadow of the embankment, the goal posts on both ends were darkened with only the top golden hoops shining. Over the blare of the stereo pouring out a mix of Muggle rock and the latest from the Three Inch Wands, Oliver Wood spoke.
"Welcome to the Halloween festivities for Puddlemere United, the team," Oliver Wood said, "Figured you'd like this, given how it's been going for you at Hogwarts…"
"Not great," Harry said, glancing at the wood paneling covered with pennants of blue and white, the team colors of Puddlemere United.
"Hey Wood!" Fred exclaimed as he came running over to them. "Why didn't you tell—Harry!"
Harry had a split second to see Fred approach, in a tuxedo. Fred wrapped his arms around Harry, pulled in tight. Harry stumbled, fell over from the force of the running bear hug.
"It's good to see you too," Oliver Wood said to Fred.
Harry chuckled, laid there on the floor.
"Oh, you're new," said a girl, a witch with brownish blond hair that went down to her posterior and wearing a very low cut shirt leaving the knockers nearly out, came into Harry's view, "I'm Amy, Amy Greystok."
Harry watched her finger teasing her tight shorts, she smiled at him.
"Easy going?" Amy asked.
"Why hide the truth?" Harry asked. He felt his arousal pushing against his shorts, figured it was showing, he felt too good to actually move to hide it.
"Good point," Amy said, "I like you already."
Harry's hand felt into his shorts, a girl whose smile seemed to spell l–u–s–t.
"Bit early in the morning to spend that," Amy said, "Wait for later, I might want to try it."
Amy left. Harry read the dates on several pennants, showed that Puddlemere United had several championships decades ago, before a large gap to a few low–bracket consolation wins more recently.
"Hitting up the girls?" Katie Bell asked as she came into Harry's view, "Hello—"
"No names—not his," Oliver Wood said, "But enjoy yourself, and talk it up with the others."
Harry glanced at Katie's long brown hair, before he got up. He went through the crowd, past one blond haired wizard wearing Quidditch robes showing the union jack, to the table, and grabbed himself a beer. He blended into the crowd, he came to two easy chairs being shared by four people, three guys and a girl.
"So, you're with Oliver Wood?" asked a thin but tall, blue eyed wizard, with buzz–cut short hair, sitting on the chair, knees up with his feet on the edge of the cushion.
"I'm Anna," said the young brown haired witch dressed in gray shirt and shorts sitting on the same chair as the wizard, "Anna McKenzie."
"I'm Luke," the wizard said, "Luke Sedgwick."
"By the way, he's mine," Gia said, coming over, giving Harry a hug, and kissed him on the cheek.
"Girlfriend?" asked a young wizard on a different chair, with light brown hair in a white T–shirt and blue shorts, "I'm Andrew Haslar."
"I'm Lester, Lester Frogmore," said the other wizard on Andrew's chair, dressed in Quidditch Robes styled after the union jack, and blond hair.
"In Hogwarts?" Anna asked.
"Yep," Harry replied.
"With a girlfriend?" Luke said, "That's good."
"On the house team?" Anna asked.
"Yes," Harry said.
"When's the next game?" Anna said, "It'd be nice to see something civilized—"
"Gryffindor vs Slytherin," Harry said, "Most uncivil lineup Hogwarts has to offer."
"Prospects?" Lester asked.
"Not good," Harry said, "Gryffindor has a bunch of rookies to break in, so it'll be rough."
"Give it your best," Anna said, "Wouldn't want Slytherin to win."
…
Ron drifted through the crowd, vaguely recognizing some from Quidditch Gazetteer, United Kingdom, 1996—1997, the players of Puddlemere United inside their country clubhouse. He realized that casual' meant it, with shorts and T–shirts being a common theme. Ron saw one, with a white T–shirt and blue shorts, and very bald head betrayed it to be Craig Nesper.
"What are you staring at?" Craig Nesper demanded.
"Nothing, nothing," Ron said.
"You must be a Weasley," said a feminine voice, from Amy, though Ron didn't yet know her name.
"Um…yeah," Ron said, as the girl leaned in close, her knockers trying to escape her low cut blouse.
"I would guess the younger brother—Donald?" she said.
"Ron," Ron said.
"Sorry, Ron, I'm Amy," Amy said, "Your brothers talk about you."
"Nothing good, I'd imagine," Ron said.
"I wouldn't discount them," Amy said, coming in close, her bosom pushed against his chest, "May I?" Her hand felt his shorts, "Mind if I try?"
"Um…" Ron muttered.
Ron felt the hand work the cloth without consideration to the crowd around them. He glanced over, saw Hermione glaring at him.
"Um…" Ron muttered.
Amy, though kissed him on the lips.
"I'll get you later, when we're allowed the good stuff," Amy said, "And when the touching's supposed to happen."
Amy stepped back, made no effort to be modest in her survey of him.
"Yes, talk to me, later," Amy said, "I'd definitely like to see how you compare."
Ron went back to the table near the fireplace, poured himself a single malt whiskey, and sat down on an easy chair. He glanced around when his eyes caught sight of it. On a small end table, beside the sofa, was a miniature cell with bars and a small figure contained within. Ron got up, moved closer, to see a raven black haired figure rattling the bars to the cell, a figure that bore a sharp resemblance to Harry, in his Gryffindor school uniform.
"Let me out!" the small Harry figure shouted, "Dumbledore! I haven't finished my mischief yet, get me out!"
WHAM!
Ron's fist came down hard and shattered the figurine. Fred dashed over.
"You broke it," Fred said, "You bought it."
"I'll tell Harry—" Ron said.
"Don't you dare—"
Ron grinned.
"Prat," Fred said, "Do you realize how much we're making over this stuff? Vaults of Galleons when it settles—"
"What else—?" Ron started to ask.
"Alright!" Fred said, "Whatever we can imagine. Azkaban here, the Gallows, some effigies, that sort of harmless stuff."
"And you consider yourself his friend?" Ron walked away from Fred, he bolted into the crowd, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Found you!" Harry said, as Ron spun around to face his good friend, "Wood wants to show us around—"
"I lied," Oliver Wood said, as he came close, "It's more—there's always a pickup Quidditch—"
"We're in!" Ron exclaimed, as he instantly understood the implication, being able to play with professional Quidditch players.
Ron and Harry grabbed their Firebolts, followed Oliver Wood outside, into the warm sunshine, and onto the Quidditch Pitch, joined the gathering crowd. Standing there in front of two crates, were three wizards wearing white jackets, each with an embroidered title in blue outlined gold lettering, a blue that matched their trousers, and a gold that matched their ties over their white shirts. A thin but tall Coach Darrell Meyers, a man that had seen a number of years was in the middle of the three wizards, stood in the center; everybody else surrounded him in a circle.
"Welcome to the season kickoff and Halloween party," Coach Meyers said, "Given that we have some new faces, guests, and short memories, a quick introduction is in order. I am COACH Darrell Meyers, I helped with getting Kent Quidditch Academy off the ground after the war, and taught there until I joined the Puddlemere United coaching staff sixteen years ago, and made head coach seven years ago."
"Adam Gerber," said the stout wizard to Coach Meyers' right, "Assistant coach for two years since—"
"You left Chudley, a fine Chaser!" Ron said.
Snickers, Fred glared.
"It's best for coaches to have some first hand experience," Coach Meyers said.
"Leroy Kline," said the short but slim wizard to Coach Meyers' left, "Yes, I did time at Appleby Arrows before becoming an assistant coach nine years ago. Onto the players, give your age and position too." Coach Kline pointed at the average height, slender young wizard.
"Silvester Shadwell, reserve seeker," said the wizard, "Twenty three."
Coach Kline pointed to the brown haired witch.
"Amy Greystok," the witch said, "Reserve Seeker, twenty one."
Coach Kline pointed again, at Oliver Wood.
"Oliver Wood," Oliver Wood said, "Keeper, as of today, and twenty."
Coach Kline continued, pointed at a blond haired, blue eyed wizard.
"Luke Sedgwick," Luke said, "Reserve Keeper, twenty two."
"Stanly Emsworth," said the black haired wizard with black T–shirt and black shorts, "Chaser."
"Andrew Haslar," said Andrew, in blue shorts and a white T–shirt, with bare feet on the grass, "Chaser, nineteen."
"Our sympathies to your parents," said Coach Meyers.
"Wallis Boomere," said a slightly older brown haired wizard, "Twenty five, Chaser."
"Katie Bell, seventeen, reserve Chaser," Katie Bell said, a bit of a white polka dotted light blue panties were showing above the waistline of her blue shorts.
"Interesting educational choice," Coach Meyers said, "We'll take talent, however we can get it."
"Craig Nesper," said the brown haired blue eyed wizard, wearing blue shorts, "Reserve Chaser, twenty six."
"Anna McKenzie," said a brown haired witch, "Reserve Chaser, nineteen."
"Lester Frogmore," said the blond haired wizard, with the union jack inspired Quidditch robes, "Beater, twenty four."
"You look like a bloody Yank!" snapped Silvester Shadwell.
Coach Kline kept pointing.
"Kristi Marshall," said a witch with heavily grass stained gray Quidditch Robes, "Beater and twenty three."
"Lets beat around your bush," Luke said.
"George Weasley," Fred, in his tuxedo, "Eighteen, reserve Beater."
"Fred Weasley," George said, "Ditto."
Oliver Wood and Ron snickered.
"As corrected," Fred said.
Coach Kline's finger pointed to Harry.
"Skip the name," Coach Meyers said to Harry.
"Sixteen," Harry said, "Seeker at Hogwarts."
"Ron Weasley," Ron said "Sixteen, Keeper and Captain at Hogwarts."
"Weasley this and Weasley that," Craig Nesper complained.
"We recruit based on talent," Coach Meyers said, "As you are now aware, we have promoted Mr. Oliver Wood to Keeper. On his and other recommendations, we welcome George and Fred Weasley as reserve beaters. We also welcome Miss. Katie Bell as reserve Chaser. May your promised worth be shown. Let's play a nice, casual, game to start off the season right."
Another wizard, in white shirt and white shorts, came hastily running across the field, waved.
"Oh, and let's wait," Coach Meyers said.
"Sorry I'm late," said the wizard, "I'm Benjamin Notley, the team healer."
Coach Meyers opened one crate, showed the standard collection of Quidditch balls. He opened the other, brooms, each one a Nimbus 2002.
"Guests, of course," Coach Meyers said as his eyes fell onto Harry and Ron holding their Firebolts, "Can use their own…at least to begin with, we may have to level the playing field."
Laughter as Ron grinned.
"Sixteen, so that makes…lets go with eight per team," Coach Meyers said, "Four chasers."
A bit more seasoned in the years than the players, but younger than the coaches, Benjamin Notley came over, started to hand out red and blue armbands. He handed reds to both Harry and Ron.
"Give you all a couple of moments to know your team," Coach Meyers said, "To ensure some play time, the snitch will not be released for an hour."
Fred and George came over, with their matching tuxedos.
"You're going to wear those?" Ron asked.
"Yes," Fred said.
"Aren't those pricey?" Harry asked.
"Better for saving them for the party," Fred said as he worked down to his boxers.
"Party?" Harry asked.
"How much did Wood not tell you?" George asked.
"A lot, apparently," Harry said.
"You've got your warm–up social," Fred said, "And the warmup practice—now, and a Halloween Party, later, without the coaches. Wood asked to use our plus ones, didn't realize it'd be you two."
"His and mine too," Katie Bell said, as she tightened up the cord to her shorts, "Who'd I bring otherwise? Mum and Dad who still think I'm at Hogwarts?"
Amy came up to them, stood there, smiled. Anna also smiled as she came up.
"Got any more brothers?" Amy asked Fred, George, and Ron.
"We count Harry as one," Fred said.
"And yes, there are others," Ron said.
"Good," Amy said as she smiled at Harry and Ron.
"Those are spoken for," Katie said.
"Their loss," Amy said.
A tall but young man, a wizard dressed in a blue suit, stood in the middle, held a microphone to his mouth.
"Greetings, I"m Roger Rayner, boyfriend to Kristi," the man said, "We have two teams, red and blue, let us see who's victorious."
Coach Meyers tossed out the Quaffle. Bats in their hands, Fred and George rose fast; all the others flew up fast. Ron and Harry took off on their Firebolts.
…
Hermione was sitting on the bench of the small elevated stand; Gia next to her. Both had omnioculars in their hands, ones with the
Puddlemere United insignia all over them. Hermione focused hers on Harry and Ron, she didn't need to read minds to know what those smiles on their faces meant.
"I ought to warn you," Hermione said, "They'll be talking about this for years."
"Better here than school," Gia replied.
"It's—for once, I agree," Hermione said, "These players seem so accepting."
"You're not convinced," Gia remarked.
"Too easy, just feels too easy," Hermione said.
"How many know you from school, here?" Gia asked.
"Um…five of them," Hermione said.
"There's your answer, they helped before you arrived," Gia said.
"Hope you're right," Hermione said, "Maybe Harry'll feel better staying in the wizarding world."
"He can't abandon it," Gia said, "Ebb and flow, sure, but not leave it, though he'd like to."
"He's feeling expelled," Hermione said, "Maybe this is good, help him feel otherwise."
Hermione focused her view on Ron as they kept watching.
…
"I have the feeling this wouldn't fly at Hogwarts," Gia said a short while later as she watched Ron intercept the Quaffle, denying the goal to the Blue team.
"Nope," Hermione said, "Using their entire body as an offensive weapon."
Gia turned the omnioculars to Harry, the wide grin on his face.
"But this is definitely better," Gia said, "Accepting themselves for who they are. You go out, be everything you are, full heart—I get the feeling Harry's not doing that at school."
"What'd you mean?" Hermione asked.
"Maybe he's been beaten just a bit too much, more of giving up there," Gia said.
"It's been a lot," Hermione said, "Can't really blame him."
"That is pretty big," Gia said, glancing at Stanly Emsworth as Amy ripped the black shorts away, "How long—?"
"You must be with the new players," said Benjamin Notley, coming over to them.
"You mean Harry and Ron?" Hermione asked.
"Niffler fever," Notley said, "I was interning with Madam Pomfrey when he came down with it, and that was a rare side effect to the cure."
"Score for blue!" Rayner announced.
"Overall," Notley said, "They seem comfortable, you two do too."
"So, these games are always like this?" Hermione asked.
Gia had her omnioculars on Kristi Marshall waving her butt.
"It's professional Quidditch," Notley said.
Gia trained her omnioculars onto Harry, smiling in the sunshine.
"They are going to need a shower," Hermione said.
"They are enjoying themselves," Gia said, "We'll have to thank Oliver Wood for arranging this—"
"Wood arranged this?" Notley said, "I thought it was a favor to Dumbledore—"
"Don't tell Harry that," Hermione said.
"Like Coach Meyers would say no to our biggest fan," Notley said, "Still, I've known Darrell for long enough to know he makes up his own mind. He'll open the door for somebody on recommendations, but in the end, it's up to that person's own talent."
"How much talent do they have?" Gia asked, her omnioculars focused onto Ron, as he kept near the goal and easier to track.
"They're definitely holding their own—that's my opinion," Notley said, "Well, nice talking with you ladies, need to get back down there." Notley stood and left.
"I do need to get back to my studies," Hermione said.
"Really?" Gia said, "I definitely can watch this all day."
"Of course you do," Hermione said.
Gia glanced at Hermione's omnioculars, paired them up, saw as Hermione saw. Amy, flying close, rubbing up against Ron, her cleavage showed in her tight shirt as they swiped along his skin, and he smiled a bit more, his eyes paid attention to Amy, tracked her eye candy. Hermione sighed, groaned.
"There's more than just Ron's antics, isn't there?" Gia said, "What are you thinking about?"
"Dumbledore," Hermione said, "I don't doubt Harry, I think Oliver Wood was genuine in thinking this was his idea."
"Maybe it was," Gia said, "From what I've seen, your Headmaster takes his cues from those around, because he doesn't want to order anybody around. I mean, don't you think Wood wanted to have Harry show up?"
"He led the Gryffindor House team when Harry started," Hermione said.
"I doubt your Headmaster would stop this," Gia said.
"Given Harry's mood this week, he'd whole heartedly endorse it," Hermione said, "With Dumbledore, there's always something else in play."
"Ultimate Quidditch?" Gia asked.
"Perhaps," Hermione replied.
…
Harry was loitering high above, fourteen others were racing below, only Silvester Shadwell, the Seeker for the Blue Team, loitered nearby. Coach Meyers went out to the box, reached to undo the strap of the Golden Snitch.
"And you need to wait a minute for the Snitch to properly hide," Silvester Shadwell said, flying nearby.
Harry blinked for several moments, realized this was the first Quidditch match since he had gotten the contacts, and he could clearly see the snitch being released, flying away, much better than when he had his glasses. He straddled his broom, rear up into the air. Katie glanced a few times, smiled at him.
Harry decided to gamble, and he pushed his handle down, and he dove fast; wind blew across his face as he practically fell. He glanced between his legs, he could tell that his opponent pursued—he had yet to see the Snitch. Harry dove faster, waited until the last moment, and pulled the Wronski Feint, pulled upward, his legs on the broom as Silvester Shadwell tumbled against the ground. Dirt on his face, Silvester mounted his Nimbus 2002 and flew. As Harry sliced through the chasers, a Bludger came Harry's way; he did the Sloth Grip Roll and ducked the Bludger; however, Andrew Haslar got the sharp reminder to the left shoulder.
Harry glanced at Silvester Shadwell, in pursuit, and he saw it, Silvester was headed for the Snitch. Harry accelerated, took full advantage of the 'hundred fifty miles per hour in ten seconds' of the Firebolt, along the blades of grass. Shadwell was in arms reach of the Snitch as Harry outstretched hand grasped it, his fingers closed around the Golden Snitch. Harry relaxed as he fell, landed his back, held the Golden Snitch up.
"Red team wins!" Rayner announced.
Harry remained there, laying on his back, snitch in his hand, studying the faces of the Puddlemere United players above him and he relaxed. He watched the smile creep across Amy's face with her eyes on his. He had just won the match, among professional players, he felt better than he had in a long time. He was doing just fine.
Luke came into view, looked down.
"Another game?" Luke extended his hand downward to Harry's.
"Sure," Harry replied as he grabbed the hand, used it to pull himself back up.
Harry mounted his Firebolt, oblivious to the events at Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall appreciated the chance to catch up, and she took advantage of the holiday, being Halloween and all; frequently declared a Saturday in most years despite what the calendar might say. She grabbed another essay from the pile on her desk, another list of proscribed conjurable objects, as declared by this student on the parchment. Her eyes fretted at the contents. She dipped the economy quill in her right hand in the red ink, wrote out a note next to the list. A Firebolt is not—'
A scream came from the corridor. Professor McGonagall dropped the quill and rushed out of her office. A quick glance, a crowd of students were gathered along the corridor above the courtyard, and she moved fast.
"Professor—!" Susan Bones shouted.
Professor McGonagall turned and spotted two sixth year Hufflepuffs boys on the floor. Ernie Macmillan, motionless and bound in ropes. Justin Finch–Fletchley, motionless with a bloodied face, and a pair of teeth in the puddle of blood on the floor.
"Ms. Boot, warn Madam Pomfrey," Professor McGonagall said as she brought out her wand. She conjured up a pair of stretchers beneath the two boys.
Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas grabbed Ernie Macmillan's stretcher, ran with it, while Roger Davies and Wayne Hopkins moved Justin Finch–Fletchley's.
"You're not going to expel them, are you?" asked Lavender Brown.
"That has not yet been determined," Professor McGonagall said, "Please, wait in the second floor corridor until called upon. Miss. Bones, you'll come along with me first."
Professor McGonagall escorted Susan Bones up to the second floor, past the Stone Gargoyle and up the ascending stairs.
"Please explain," Professor Dumbledore instructed from behind the desk, his blue eyes had fixed upon Susan Bones.
"Potter suckered us all," Susan Bones said, "Rumors of a big announcement—get there for both Potter and Weasley to attack. Ernie and Justin tried to tackle, but they warded themselves in, trapped Ernie and Justin as they kept attacking. Sorry, I didn't think to use my wand, Rogers Davies stopped the ward, it dropped, hopefully in time. Potter and Weasley flew away. What news about Ernie and Justin?"
"Poppy did not elaborate," Professor Dumbledore said, "Best not to speculate."
"They deserve to be expelled," Susan Bones said, "Nobody feels safe with them at Hogwarts."
"Too early to speculate until I have the full picture," Professor Dumbledore said.
"What picture do you need?" Susan Bones asked, "That of Justin's teeth being knocked out?"
"Thank you for your explanation," Professor Dumbledore said, "You may go, and I'll see you at the feast."
"Feast of blood and guts?" Susan Bones snapped as she left.
"I must confess that I concur with her," Professor McGonagall said, "I haven't seen Mr. Potter at all today, before this—hooliganism. I'm afraid I must support her suggestion, emergency expulsion."
"And do Mr. Potter a grave injustice," Professor Dumbledore said, "Neither him, nor Mr. Weasley have been at Hogwarts since this morning when they left with Mr. Oliver Wood. If reports are accurate, both are playing Quidditch with the entire Puddlemere United team at this very moment. I'm sorry if I neglected to tell you about their planned activity for today."
"I…I'm sure the eyewitnesses will be very vocal in their displeasure," Professor McGonagall said.
"As they should be, they were assaulted, but not from Mr. Potter nor Mr. Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said, "Once uncovered, the real culprits will suffer my wrath. However, neither Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley did it, for it's a tough sell to believe that they'd arrange for this when they're both enjoying themselves quite thoroughly with Quidditch."
"Very well," Professor McGonagall said, "Understand the resentment is building, I doubt they'll be convinced, this is a dangerous game your playing."
"It's the only path that will work out," Professor Dumbledore said.
Professor McGonagall left the office.
"It's just another experiment," Coach Meyers said to Harry, "I know how addictive a Firebolt can be."
Harry settled his Firebolt back down next to the other brooms, and once again returned back to the Nimbus 2002. Shadows of the goal posts stretched across the field as the sun started to loiter above the rolling wooded hills around them.
"I'm curious if it's the broom or the player," Coach Meyers said, "Ready?"
Harry glanced at Amy Greystok, his opponent for the next match, she was going to be the Blue Team's Seeker. Coach Meyers had been alternating that role all day between her and Silvester Shadwell, changing which games he'd be playing with a Nimbus 2002 or his Firebolt. Harry mounted the Nimbus 2002.
"It'll be night soon, you might want to keep this one short," Coach Meyers said, "Twenty minutes to the Snitch." Coach Meyers released the Bludgers and tossed up the Quaffle.
Harry flew upward, straddled his broom as he waited, watched. He felt the tug on the back of his shorts, fingers that wanted to slide beneath
"Hey!" Harry snapped at Amy Greystok, right behind him.
Pfffpt! Pfffpt!
"Like that'll work on me," Amy said, "My, my, you're still not fazed by this?" She grabbed his crotch.
"Stop!" Harry snapped.
"You're not like most new players," Amy said, "When Andrew came on? Oh, his small todger really unnerved him, took him weeks, maybe months, to get over it."
"Go bugger—" Harry glanced, first at Ron taking a face plant from Katie Bell, at Fred and George comparing their bats, before his eyes landed on Oliver Wood. "Wood!"
"He's blue, you're red," Amy said.
Harry flew, fast, on the Nimbus 2002, slower than his Firebolt, but flew, butt in the air. Amy pursued, her eyes fixed at his arse. Harry glanced along the broom, she made it clear she was pursuing him. She got closer, reached, and he felt her fingers touch his butt.
"Really?!" Harry stammered.
Harry, though, understood the message, moved his head back, accelerated a bit more, and pulled away from her. Harry glanced ahead, as Luke rolled on his broom with Quaffle in hand.
"Ten points for blue!" Rayner announced.
Harry, though, watched as Lester Frogmore pushed on Katie, who now had the Quaffle, tried to knock her off her broom. Harry pushed his handle forward, dove. Harry fell right in front of Katie, forced Lester into a tumble.
"Ta!" Katie shouted back.
Harry recovered, watched Katie tease as she approached Oliver Wood. Oliver Wood's eyes flinched on her as she sunk the Quaffle through the hoops.
"Ten points for red!" Rayner announced, "Nice teamwork!"
Harry understood the rules that he had been seeing enforced, use your full body to the fullest extent, any distraction was acceptable. Harry enjoyed being accepted by this group, a good idea of Oliver Wood's. Harry was quickly drawn out of his thoughts by the hand grabbing his shorts. Harry rolled over, grabbed Amy, and they rolled onto the grass. Harry straddled Amy, his eyes focused on her blue eyes.
"Later," Amy promised.
"No banging during the game!" Fred snapped at Harry.
"See?" Amy replied.
Harry pulled the broom beneath him, flew off, having found the limit. He flew a bit faster, in front of Ron.
"Letting it out now!" Coach Darrell Meyers yelled.
Harry saw it, the gold leave the fingers as the Snitch flew up into the air, vanished.
…
Gia watched through the omnioculars as Luke and Craig Nesper teamed up. Luke rapidly flew the broom backward toward Ron. As the butt collided, Ron backed up as Craig flew the Quaffle past Ron.
"He's undoubtedly not letting up," Hermione said, her eyes at the bench in front over her, arms crossed while Amy did a handstand on the broom in front of Ron.
"It's tactics," Gia said.
"Tactics my arse!" Hermione snapped.
"Harry gets it," Gia said, "They all do, to put your full self into the game, It's full commitment. If it were a problem, I'd expect that they'd—" she pointed at Coach Meyers feverishly taking notes "—would step in?"
"It's not family friendly," Hermione said.
"It's not a kindergarten, and they're having a good time," Gia said, gripping her omnioculars, "So am I."
"Not even bother asking me what I'd like to do," Hermione said, "Surprised I'm not sunburned."
"You had a toffee?" Notley asked, joining back up.
"It's a circus," Hermione said
"A good one," Gia said, as she trained the omnioculars
"Something about the toffees?" Gia asked.
"It's the standard practice," Notley said, "Has a sunblock potion in it, keeps you from getting sunburned."
"Aw," Gia said.
…
Harry briefly saw the long blond hair flow right in front of him as the hand grabbed his shorts.
"Hey!" Harry snapped at Amy.
"I figured this is the best spot to keep a lookout," Amy said.
"Not on my—," Harry said.
"You ain't going for the Snitch without these," Amy replied.
Harry's right hand reached over and grabbed her shorts.
"Nice try, mister," Amy said.
"You're trying to give me a hand job," Harry said, "Only fair I give you change for it."
Harry worked it fast and he rolled before he dove. She pursued, though stayed a short ways above him. Harry's eyes saw the twinkle of gold, focused on the Snitch just in front of him. Harry reached out.
Pop!
The Golden Snitch vanished.
"It's an apparating snitch!" Amy said, "That's not fair!"
Harry moved upward fast, his head hit square on her shorts as she had quickly moved to block him.
"I'm not that easy," Harry swore.
"I'm not intimidating enough, am I?" Amy said, "Think I'll try your Keeper."
Amy broke off, flew toward Ron, held her cleavage toward him. Ron smiled. Harry figured it for the best, he wanted to focus on finding the snitch. Harry scanned the field.
"HARRY!" came Fred's bellow.
Harry glanced, saw Amy moving fast on her Nimbus 2002, chasing the Snitch as it flew from Ron toward Wood. Harry moved his broom, accelerated as fast as he could, hoping that he could close the large lead Amy had. Her arm outstretched, a few feet toward it, while Harry still had a dozen yards. Still, Harry reached out, when the Snitch seemed to jump much closer, and Harry closed his hand around it as Amy collided with him.
"No fair!" Amy protested, "He Apparated!"
"What?" Harry asked.
"You weren't paying attention," Fred said.
"I saw it, he Apparated," Silvester Shadwell said.
"He's sixteen and a sixth year," George said, "He's not old enough—and, they won't teach him that until next year."
"I don't know how," Harry said.
"As much as I'd love to back you," Oliver Wood said, coming over, "It did look like it."
"I can't have," Harry said, a bit uncertain as there has been times he couldn't explain his travels, like the time he was found on the school's roof so many years ago back in Little Whinging.
"Snitch was apparating all match," Hermione said, coming over.
"Ta," Harry said, appreciative of her backup.
"Did you knowingly Apparate?" Coach Darrell Meyers asked Harry.
"No," Harry said, confident of that. Accidentally, he was less sure.
"We'll take you at your word," Coach Darrell Meyers said, "Red team won, again—um, has blue won, at all?"
"No," Coach Adam Gerber said, shaking his head as he tallied up the wins on his clipboard, exclusively for the reds, "That's it for today!"
"There's an urgent conversation for you to tend to," Coach Darrell Meyers said to Harry, "And, lets not be late for the Halloween Festivities."
"You owe me," Amy said, her finger pointed at Harry.
"What?" Harry muttered.
They walked to the country club's lodge, entered the room with the wood paneling and the Puddlemere United colors of blue and white.
"What's this I'm hearing?" Hermione asked, catching up, Gia with her, "I thought this was the party."
"No," Fred said, "That was practice—with guests."
"Trust Wood to not give you specifics," George said.
"I need a word with you," Coach Darrell Meyers said to Harry.
Harry glanced at Ron, already on a plush chair, leaning back into it.
"We'll take the girls, on ahead," George said.
"Um…sure," Harry said.
Fred and George took Gia and Hermione into the fireplace, with handfuls of Floo Powder, vanished. Harry sat on the chair next to Ron.
"Don't you love it?" Ron said, "You're just about to get to the good part and they—"
"Like I said, business," Coach Darrell Meyers said, "Clearly you're enjoying yourselves, gotten comfortable with the team, and they certainly seem to like you."
"I suppose so," Harry said.
"You took on and repeatedly defeated her," Ron said.
Assistant Coaches Adam Gerber and Leroy Kline, both in their matching white suits and coaching jackets came over, stood next to the head coach. Oliver Wood stood nearby.
"You both clearly have some level of maturity," Coach Meyers said, "And a display of talent that would make the senior league blush. However, I'm in charge of Puddlemere United and we recruit based on talent. After some pestering from Oliver Wood here, and another advocate on your behalf, we decided that bringing you in on the pretext of Halloween and observing your performance would be good."
"Oh," Harry understood the implications, both he and Ron had been on the same team all day, everybody else had been switched around.
"Weasley, here, certainly held his own," Oliver Wood said, "You, Harry, you waltzed over Shadwell, even gave Greystok a run for her money despite her dirty antics. So, yeah, I knew a good seeker five years ago, and you've only gotten better—even if you're apparating to the Snitch."
"I wasn't apparating!" Harry quipped.
"Master that denial," Ron quipped, "Stranger things have been known to happen with you."
"Only fair, the Snitch was apparating too," Oliver Wood said.
"We're interested in your talent," Coach Darrell Meyers said, "While it's rare to recruit sixth years from Hogwarts, it's not unheard of, including the odd seventh year who's tired of school."
"Katie, for instance," Oliver Wood remarked.
"You'd be good additions," Assistant Coach Leroy Kline said.
"We'd like to consider moving forward, possibly even bringing you on," Assistant Coach Adam Gerber said.
"Sure," Ron said, "Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry said.
"We'd like to bring you on, train you up, and see how that goes," Coach Darrell Meyers said, for we do foresee an opening for next year that—"
Squeak! Creak! Creak!
Everybody else went silent as creaking from an under–oiled door echoed, along with footsteps entering the building.
"Were you expecting anybody?" Assistant Coach Adam Gerber softly asked Coach Darrell Meyers, shaking his head.
"Frank?" a squeaky voice inquired, "Frank? I have some wagers—"
A small, pasty, man rounded the corner into the room, the silvery hand reflected the low flames of the fireplace. Small watery eyes gazed upon Harry's, the eyes that heeded the command to kill Cedric, eyes on the one who stole blood to use it for that vile potion, eyes that filled Harry with disgust.
POP!
Harry found himself, in the air, on his Firebolt, already moving; Ron, Oliver, and the Coaches were spectators as Harry pushed to go faster toward Wormtail. Wormtail backed up, and fumbled at the door knob, opened it. Harry flew threw the door as Wormtail tumbled to the ground. Harry made a tight turn on the gravel loading dock, when he realized his wand was at Hogwarts, on his desk with his Portkey, and figured he'd just use his bare hands.
"Potter!" Wormtail blurted as his left hand tapped his right silver hand.
Pop!
Wormtail disapparated.
Harry flew back in. "Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed as he landed.
"Wa—was that who I thought it was?" Assistant Coach Adam Gerber asked, "Older than—well, a while."
"Peter Pettigrew," Ron said.
"He was killed fifteen—" Meyers said.
"So he wanted you to think," Harry said, "Wormtail, as he's known by nowadays…we had all better leave, now."
"Wait just a—" Coach Darrell Meyers protested.
"He recognized me," Harry said, "We must leave because Death Eaters will be here in minutes."
"I concur with Harry," Oliver Wood said, "Professor Dumbledore gave me explicit instructions. Lets move on."
Ron stood and joined Harry in carrying their Firebolts, into the fireplace.
"Andrew Haslar!" Oliver shouted as he dropped the Floo Powder.
Harry walked out of the Fireplace as he returned to Hogwarts Friday morning with Gia, Hermione, Ron, and Oliver Wood.
"You're the most rested teacher today," Professor Dumbledore said to Oliver Wood.
"I don't think I want to know," Oliver Wood said, "Good morning."
Oliver Wood left the office.
"You just want to—" Hermione started, her flashing brown eyes trained on Ron before she made for the door.
"It's fine," Ron said as he chased her out of the office.
"And there's you," Harry said to Gia as he gave her a quick kiss, her bosom pressed against his chest, "Get ya to school."
Snuffles bound forward, tapped the Portkey, Gia vanished.
"I hope you had a splendid time Harry," Professor Dumbledore said.
"I did," Harry said, "Loads of Quidditch, and more."
"Good," Professor Dumbledore said.
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"Nothing to worry about," Professor Dumbledore said, "What counts is that you were eagerly fraternizing with Puddlemere United for the past twenty four hours."
"You—you spied?" Harry asked.
"Spying? No," Professor Dumbledore said, "I did get a report or two—"
"That—" Harry's eyes drifted to the The Daily Prophet on the table. He read the article.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Potter's Halloween Celebration
by Rita Skeeter
Yours truly regrets to inform you that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Regrettably Lived, celebrated Halloween in style, attacking, injuring, and hazing his fellow classmates. Under the pretense of making an announcement, Harry Potter started off his vicious celebration attacking two of his classmates, who, were certain to have been killed if it were not for timely intervention of former crush, fifth year Cho Chung. Dissatisfied with the results, Harry Potter lured first years into the Forbidden Forest to intimidate them into worship him at all costs, or risk his unforgivable wrath. Headmaster Albus Dingbat was in obvious denial of the charges and promptly excused Harry Potter of any wrongdoing by proposing that eyewitnesses could not be trusted, eyewitnesses that were promptly punished.
"That's what happened?" Harry asked.
"As the article stated, there were incidents yesterday, some involving masks of you," Professor Dumbledore said, "However, of the few truths she had, Rita Skeeter twisted them into the least favorable article."
"I see that," Harry said, "Still, you're spying."
"We've got a common foe, best to keep an eye out for opportunities," Professor Dumbledore said, "And, forgive me, you're in his interest, still in his plans, so watching you can be … strategic."
"It's still spying," Harry said, "Trying to butt into my life!"
"Spying is not my intent Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, "You lead your own life, you make your own choices, because we both value that. I'll only step in if I believe you don't fully understand the consequences, which is why I made sure you took the time earlier this week, because handling Mr. Riddle is your chief problem, it'll grow until you can no longer ignore it, and then you'll be forced to act, to fall or be fallen, that's what was prophesied, that's what Mr. Riddle believes, and therefore, it will likely come to fruition.
"So, spying? Maybe. But, alas, watching you has taught me much, that this course you're on can seem lonely, tough, isolating. So, when Mr. Wood had his idea for you to attend their practice, their party, I gave it my blessing. For you to experience what the Wizarding community outside of Hogwarts has to offer, because Hogwarts isn't the end of the magical world, it's just the beginning. So, I dearly do wish you had a wonderful time there."
"I did," Harry said.
"Good," Professor Dumbledore said, "And a good day to you."
A flick of the Headmaster's wand, the window opened. Harry mounted his Firebolt, took off.
"All students have been found," Professor McGonagall said later that morning, "Two are in the Hospital Wing, expected to make a full recovery."
"Thank you Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said.
"And you, Albus," Professor McGonagall said, "All you need to do is have the team interviewed, and Mr. Potter would have his alibis."
"Yes, I could," Professor Dumbledore said, "However, Harry needs refuge more than exoneration."
"Exoneration would restore Hogwarts as a home for him," Professor McGonagall said.
"In the short term, yes," Professor Dumbledore said, "But not in the long term. As unfortunate as the consequences are, we must let the plan unfold."
"Your methods are madness," Professor McGonagall said.
"So is the storm, a perfect storm is brewing, one that could decimate us all," Professor Dumbledore said, "There is only one viable path for us to take, to head for the eye of this storm, to hold onto the principles we hold dear, and hope that certain people can realize their roles in saving the ship in time."
[1]: For the non–British, to quote "Individual chocolate discs in a crispy galaxy chocolate shell. Gorgeous!"