In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 109: Falling
Harry woke Thursday to the pressure, Gia and Ron to either side in tight. On top of him, Hermione. Her brown eyes that loomed as he opened his.
"Going somewhere?" Hermione whispered.
"Run," Harry whispered.
"Isn't over–exercise a symptom?" Hermione whispered.
"Helps me think," Harry said, "Besides, how many times have had to run?"
Harry disapparated, apparated standing up next to the bed. Hermione turned to her side, the brown eyes on him. A thought, Harry disapparated.
…
Hermione got up as soon as Harry disapparated.
"He…we…" Hermione grumbled.
"Harry's a slippery one," Gia said.
"I'll say," Hermione said.
Ron got up, went for the door.
"Harry ate solidly for two days straight," Gia said, "If he wants to run, he can run."
"Listen to us," Hermione said, "Two days as a miracle."
"We'll see if he makes it three," Gia said, "Still, I reward him each time if I can."
Hermione stepped out of the bedroom, the hard double right, and went down the stairs, the door still partially disillusioned to show the other side. Into the living room, where she spotted Ron in the kitchen area. She doubled back, grabbed the paper, and went over to the dining table.
"Was wondering," Ron said.
"Fixing breakfast?" Hermione asked, "Again?"
"Yep." Ron sliced at the bacon, cut it up. "Something nice about doing this, you know?"
Hermione stretched The Daily Prophet open, read into it.
"Harry seems to eat it too," Ron said, "Hoping he'll go for it again."
"Always hoping," Hermione said.
"I'm hoping he got motivated," Ron said.
Harry apparated in, his hair dripping, the mud splatters.
"Sorry, not the shower," Harry said.
Harry disapparated.
"It's not raining outside, is it?" Hermione asked.
"Nope," Ron said.
Hermione flipped the pages, while Ron cooked. A few minutes later, Ron brought over a bowl of fruit salad, set it down.
"Alright, festive," Hermione said.
Ron used hot pads to bring over the casserole dish. Within it, the egg with bits of bacon. A tray of toasted bagels was next. Pitcher of apple juice, and tea. Harry apparated back in.
"Anything in that?" Harry asked Hermione as he sat.
Harry opened his pill bottles, took one of each, swallowed the pills down. A scoop to the eggs, he filled up half the smaller plate, along with a bagel. Juice, and he poured the hot water into the tea cup.
"Not too important," Hermione said as she shifted the pages, "Won't read this all off, that Rita's slammed in the editorials for buying our hype. Some sympathy for Hagrid. No sympathy for Lupin along with suggestions to confiscate the estate as punishment for getting bitten."
"So we're scum of the wizarding world," Harry said, his fork stopped, "They'd kill us themselves if given the chance."
"Sorry," Hermione said, "I read it in case something useful does turn up."
"It's a paper full of lies," Ron said.
"Breathe and eat," Hermione suggested to Harry.
Bottle green eyes that twitched.
"Forget the paper," Hermione said.
"Magic consumes you in the end trying to survive," Ron said, "Your skin falls apart, you turn into a pile of goo."
"I get it!" Harry said.
"Weeks away if you don't," Ron said.
Harry's bottle green eyes turned to Ron.
"His best guess," Ron said, "Don't show him it's true, no dark marks please."
"That's—" Gia started as she crossed the living room.
"Come on," Ron said, "Quidditch practice."
"Kids," Gia said.
"Don't make me face my execution alone," Ron said.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, sorry," Ron said, "He didn't tell you, another alternate reality a week ago. He got news that him and me will be executed."
"You're joking," Hermione said, "Right?"
"That's what a future Neville claimed," Harry said.
"I promise to take as many down with me as possible," Ron said, "We can do a lot more damage, together."
"Some of these must be quite bogus," Harry said, "Imagine Neville as the boy who lived."
"Please," Ron said, "I want to get the full practice, and it's way more fun watching you distract Katie."
Harry snorted, the grin. Harry's fork moved, and he continued eating. Gia sat next to Harry.
"Besides," Gia said to Harry, "Without you, I'd have to go to school all by myself."
Hermione shook her head, scooped out some fruit salad and ate.
…
Harry went up the steps, entered the bedroom.
"You're totally overdressing," Harry said to Gia as she put on her shoes.
Hoot!
Harry went over to the bird, stroked Hedwig's feathers, fed her an owl treat. Padding from the back as she leaned in against him, hands around his waist and down his shorts.
"With the way you're feeding her," Gia said, "You may need to put her on a diet."
"She likes these," Harry said.
"Bit ironic to spoil her and starve yourself," Gia said.
"I…" Harry muttered.
Her hands massaged.
"You're better off than that alternate Harry," Gia said, "You're listening."
Her fingers worked and his shorts became messy.
"Thank you," Gia said.
Harry turned around, the blue blouse over the protective vest, leaned in and kissed her.
"School," Harry said, "Ready?"
Gia grabbed her bag, Harry held on. A swish of the wand, the disillusionment, and he focused. A disapparation, apparation, they stood in the darkened portable classroom.
Woof!
Harry turned, Snuffles there, as he let the disillusionment drop. Harry spotted the new tag on the collar.
"You're welcome," Harry said, patted him.
"Later," Gia said.
Harry's wand out, the invisibility, and went out the door. Students that approached; hand to the railing, Harry pushed and jumped over. Hard left between the classrooms, he summoned his broom. Another jump and he flew upward.
Some sun that heated Harry's skin, he flew in the otherwise idle air. Students that swarmed in, a couple in canary yellow. Harry flew along, made it fast, to Pickering Place, where he noticed the two that walked along. Moody and Shacklebolt, and went low.
"I would not call it ordinary decor," Moody said.
"Sorry I missed it," Shacklebolt said.
"Don't mean to alarm you," Moody said.
"I feel it too," Shacklebolt said, "Must be something in the wind."
Harry disapparated, apparated into the living room. He banished his broom away as he stood, the invisibility dropped. Harry went to the front door, opened it as Moody and Shacklebolt came up to it.
"Foolish not to challenge us Potter," Moody said.
"Didn't you say that was him behind us?" Shacklebolt asked.
"Must've been something in the wind," Harry said, "Please."
Harry watched. Shacklebolt went over to the small table with the three.
"Fascinating," Shacklebolt said.
"Littered all over town," Harry said, "Can't walk it, run it, without incident, makes me a prisoner in my own home."
Shacklebolt turned, the colorful robes.
"Why not move?" Shacklebolt asked.
"Um…" Harry said, "Classes, school."
"You call it home and you do not want to feel pushed out," Shacklebolt said, "How do you think Lupin felt?"
"Um…" Harry said, "The same."
Feet on the stairs, red haired Ron stepped down.
"Hermione is ready," Ron said, "Please, upstairs, and take a right."
Harry's curiosity took him, he went up fast, turned right into the room of brick, the large one that was the Room of Requirement, where a light breeze met him. Lining the edge of the room, tables full of parts to mines and devices in various stages of deconstruction. One table had a cauldron, flame beneath it, and Stupefy! Stunnington's Auror Handbook open next to it, in a sea of emptied large bottles of glue along with one half–full of white.
"Interesting," Moody said as he entered, the eye that roamed fast.
Harry glanced up to the ceiling, the vaulted ceiling that seemed ordinary. He turned his attention to Hermione, who stood there, hands behind her as her face grinned.
"You can't see them, can you?" Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head.
"I can't either," Hermione said.
"I can," Moody said.
Shacklebolt shook his head.
"You'll like this," Ron said.
Hermione pulled her right hand out, showed a small clod of a white powder in her hand. She threw it against the floor, the powder billowed up into a fine cloud of dust, drifted upward.
"Now?" Hermione asked.
Harry spotted it, the many turbulent wakes of small objects flying through the dust.
"You can see the research donors around the room," Hermione pointed at the tables, "Those up there have no payloads."
"Simple yet effective," Shacklebolt said.
"Even muggles would notice if it's always foggy," Ron said.
"If you pee under invisibility, you leave a puddle," Hermione said, "Same idea. This fine chalk powder's about the best, smoke or fog work in a pinch, but don't go using it until you're close. Use the zone out to around twenty or thirty meters, feel it enter, take action."
"It's still an active device," Moody said, "Seeing's easier to destroy, but it'll explode—especially if you get too close."
Hermione sighed, went to the table.
"It's simple," Hermione said, she pointed to the book, "Locator fluid and glue—five minutes to make the detectors."
Ron smiled.
"As to this," Hermione pointed, "Remember they need to control them too. I've stripped the hairs from every one, that's why they're docile. Place a hair into it, and duck."
"How?" Harry asked.
Moody and Shacklebolt watched too.
"Simple." Hermione held up the small pearly white sphere with a hanging Dark Mark over it. "One of theirs as I'm not creating that mark." She aimed her wand. "Capilldelere Hermione Granger." A small strand of brown hair appeared stuck to the tip of her wand, and the Mark dissipated.
"Can you put it back?" Ron asked.
Hermione nodded, aimed her wand, hair still stuck. "Capillinstruere!" Her tiny hair vanished, embedded itself, as the sphere emitted a small Dark Mark.
"Remove all the hairs?" Harry asked.
"Capillidelereomnes," Hermione said.
Three small hairs stuck themselves to the tip of her wand, the black, the brown, and the red one.
"Good work," Ron said, "You're a genius."
"Be careful to not become dependent on her," Moody growled.
Harry glanced at Shacklebolt who seemed to agree with what Moody was about to say next. Moody's who seemed determined.
"Said so yourself," Moody said, "Dark Lord's after you, and when he misses—others perish. So the people you rely on might not be there when you need them the most."
"Seen it many times," Shacklebolt said.
"You should've been able to figure that puzzle out," Moody said to Harry.
"Lupin's right," Shacklebolt said, "You've got a lot to learn."
"Teach it," Harry said.
"That was an interesting lesson, Granger," Moody said, avoiding Harry's mandate.
"Thank you," Shacklebolt said, "We'll see ourselves out."
Moody and Shacklebolt left the room.
"Time for practice?" Ron asked.
A sigh, the glare of Hermione's brown eyes.
"Uh–oh…" Ron muttered.
Hermione stepped slow, hands down, her eyes on Ron.
"Practice sounds like a great idea," Harry said.
Her eyes turned to Harry.
"What?" Ron asked.
"You, both of you!" Hermione said, "You never taking anything seriously!"
"We do," Harry said.
"Good," Hermione said, "You'll know what to do with this."
Hermione took Stupefy! Stunnington's Auror Handbook and shoved it into Harry's hands.
"Which table needs propping?" Ron asked.
"Argh!" Hermione exclaimed.
Harry flipped the pages.
"Fire starter?" Harry asked.
Hermione glared.
"Not taking this seriously!" Hermione snapped.
"But we do," Harry said, "We'd be impostors if we didn't tease."
Harry grinned, her glare.
"What topic?" Ron asked.
Harry glanced at the table of contents.
"Tracking," Harry said, "Haven't done that yet."
"Got Advanced Tracking too," Ron said.
"Basics first," Hermione said.
"Start with locator charms," Ron said, "You know, find Gia when you need to."
"Simple," Harry said, "Apparate."
Hermione shook her head. Harry's eyes darted between them.
"It's uncommon," Ron said, "Your magic's not following the rules, it's combined locators with apparation."
Harry mulled it over.
"Start with hide and seek," Harry said.
"Immature," Hermione said.
"Makes learning fun," Ron said.
"Anywhere in town, so watch out," Harry said, "Be back by eleven. You two go first, I'll start in thirty seconds."
"No apparating directly to us," Ron said.
Ron's wand out, he disillusioned and disapparated first.
"You're—" Hermione started.
"About to tag you," Harry said.
Hermione's wand out, she disillusioned and disapparated.
Hoot!
Harry went out of the room, into the bedroom. Half an owl treat.
"Can't keep stuffing you," Harry said to Hedwig. A stroke of her feathers. "Need to go finding them."
Harry went down the steps, the wand that cast invisibility and the zone, and he walked through the closed door. Spare wand to his left hand.
"Locate," Harry said, focused on Ron and Hermione.
Wand that moved, he disapparated, apparated to Macy's Boulevard. A glance around, he felt the buzzing. Harry's real wand out, the fog, and he spotted the object approaching. A flick, the mine detonated, the shield charm that pushed the explosion away from him; a second one behind sent out fire and shocks.
"Okay," Harry said, "Bit more dangerous."
Harry focused on the spare wand, it spun. An disapparation, apparation, Harry stood in the cemetery. A glance around, an aberration on the graves. His broom out, a float up, and Harry saturated the ground below in fog. He skipped over two, to clear around the grave, and he landed.
"Harry," Hermione said, "I know you're there."
She turned, he went around and grabbed her shoulders. Her disillusionment dropped.
"Good effect," Hermione said.
"Go bug Ron," Harry suggested.
Her disillusionment renewed, wand to her hand, she aimed, and disapparated. Harry jumped on his broom, flew the short hop to her by the bus stop. Again she disapparated, and Harry flew. Knew this to be a more practical lesson.
Over had already passed, and Ron smelled it, the rubbish as he squatted between the dumpster and brick wall. A buzz, the hands from behind.
"You're it," Harry said, "Likely the last one—see you at home."
Harry vanished. Ron laid his wand in his hand, the bearing, and gripped the hilt again. A swish, the renewal of the disillusionment, and a disapparation, Ron apparated near a footbridge, the one that went from Ashton Lane to the schools. Ron repeated, another bearing, the disapparation and apparation. He apparated next to the empty lot with the for sale sign on it.
"Of course," Ron muttered.
Ron cast his zone, renewed the disillusionment, his toes on the grass around the footprint to the old house, where the hot tub used to rest. Between the brush, to the small path, and he spotted her, sitting on the bank to the small pond where two creeks converged. Knees up, the arms on her legs, as she starred at the water.
"Suppose I could bang," Ron said, "That count as tagging?"
Hermione snorted. Ron sat to her left.
"You'd bang in the execution chamber," Hermione said.
Ron sighed, put his hand around her back to her right shoulder.
"All we have is the word of some future Neville," Ron said, "Assuming there's not another tangled alternate—whatever."
"You both believe it," Hermione said.
"I admit it's stronger than tea leaves," Ron said, "Maybe it'll happen, maybe not. If we knew more, we could stop it."
"That's not how time turners work," Hermione said, "If Neville used one of those, then he's right."
Hermione sighed, her eyes on the water.
"Means I'll die with Harry," Ron said, "Bit of comfort there."
"What about us?" Hermione said, "Death wishes don't help."
"I don't have a death wish," Ron said, "Simply means I stuck with Harry—that counts."
"So we are fattening him up for slaughter," Hermione said.
"I'm not giving up on him," Ron said, "Not until we're actually executed—and try your best to bust us out of it."
"Make my nightmare come true?" Hermione said, "I've lost my parents, my cousins, I'd hate to lose you too."
"Thank you." Ron leaned over, kissed her cheek.
Ron watched her eyes watch him.
"Everything comes to an end, eventually," Ron said, "I want us—you, me, Harry, and Gia, to be for life, long life. If we can't have that, know I'll still love you. Maybe I can send chocolates?"
Hermione snorted.
"We'll do what we can," Ron said.
A distant bell of the church.
"Get back so I can…you know," Ron said.
Ron pulled out his Portkey, activated it. Hermione held on. Jerk behind the naval, they landed in the living room.
"Took your time," Harry said, standing there, "Ready?"
"Good job with the mines," Ron said, "Maybe de–mine the town while we're away?"
"Can't spend all my time on that," Hermione said.
Ron stood, Harry held the shoulder. They disapparated, apparated into the clubhouse. Bottle green eyes scrutinized Ron. Ron shrugged. They walked to the counter. Trays to a table, ones that held fish and chips, they sat.
"Lemme guess," Harry said, "You banged as a tag—don't think there's rules against that."
Ron snorted. Harry dipped the fried fish into brown sauce, ate it, and a bit of the brown dripped down his shirt. Harry dipped again.
"Hmm…" Ron said, "That'd be a fun game if you have to bang to tag."
Harry belted out in laughter. He dipped a chip into the brown sauce. Ron worked on his fish, dipped that into the tartar sauce, ate.
"One guess to what Dumbledore's doing about Hagrid," Harry said, "About the same as Lupin."
"Expecting Dumbledore to raid Azkaban and break Hagrid out?" Ron said, "Even us…I think the neighbors would notice hippogriffs and dragons in the back."
Harry snorted.
"Eat," Ron suggested.
Ron worked his plate clean, drank the soda. Ron stretched his arms. He watched as Harry worked through all but one of the fish sticks, and half the chips. Harry pushed the plate away, sipped at the soda, and stopped.
"Downstairs?" Harry asked.
Ron got up walked with Harry.
"You're in a good mood," Harry said.
"Yep," Ron replied.
Down the stairs, the right along the corridor, through the locker room, and they entered the examination room, it was empty of anybody else.
"You're not angry?" Harry asked.
Ron glanced at him.
"Didn't finish," Harry said.
"Half a plate's fine," Ron said, "You're eating—that's a win."
Notley entered, closed the door.
"Alright Potter," Notley said, "Lets see if I can give you the whole afternoon or not."
Harry stood on the scale.
"Weight's the same," Notley said, writing the numbers down, "It's going to take time to improve, but I'll let you have three hours and take the Coach's training. Keep eating and check back tomorrow."
Harry and Ron left the examination room. Ron walked with Harry to the box. They grabbed the Nimbus 1000s from the broom closet. Sun to the skin as they walked out onto the pitch. Empty of anybody else above, except for Coach Kline who approached. White T–shirt, the blue shorts, the wand that was strapped to the left wrist, and Nimbus 1000 in hand.
"Today you boys get to learn falling," said the coach.
"Falling?" Harry said, "Where's a cliff—"
"Fall properly," Coach Kline said, "To mitigate injuries or that sort."
"Best way is to not fall," Ron said.
"You fell yesterday," Coach Kline said, "If it weren't for your friend, could've been very serious. Lets teach you so you can get comfortable with falling from any height."
"If I want death," Harry said, "I could go for a walk around my town, it'd be fast."
"Quite the opposite," Coach Kline said, "Let me demonstrate."
The coach mounted the Nimbus 1000, flew up to twenty feet, turned over, and fell. Coach Kline rolled and recovered to a standing position, while the Nimbus flew until it crashed into the wall.
"I'm alright," Coach Kline said, "A bruise at most. We're starting small and working our way up."
"I don't plan to fall from my broom," Harry said.
"Oh?" Ron said, "You seem to have a knack for that."
A glare from those bottle green eyes.
"That's different," Harry said.
"Seems like falling to me," Ron said.
"You want the confidence," Coach Kline said, "Sometimes it's accidental, sometimes deliberate."
"Sign me up," Ron said.
A grin to the Coach's face.
"Brooms to the side," the coach said, "And we start here."
Ron put the Nimbus 1000 down, took the steps. A glance behind to notice Notley in the box, ready with a wand.
"Like this," Coach Kline said.
Coach Kline threw his weight forward, head that tucked, and rolled, before he stood up. Sunshine to his skin, Ron tucked his head, the confidence and tumbled hit his shoulder on the ground. Harry laughed.
"You try it," Ron said as he stood.
"Give it another go," Harry suggested.
Ron took the fast step, tucked as he rolled, this time, he landed on his back.
"Better," Coach Kline said.
Ron stood. A bit faster on the steps, Ron tucked and rolled, over, until his feet hit the grass, and he fell backward. Bit sore, Ron stood back up.
"Keep going," Coach Kline said, on the Nimbus 1000 next to Ron. Notley flew to the other side on a Firebolt.
Ron ran, tucked and rolled, his feet carried through, and he landed on his feet.
"Cool," Ron said.
Ron ran a bit more, tucked, rolled, and got back to his feet.
"See?" Coach Kline asked.
"Again," Ron said.
Ron took another run, tucked, rolled, and went back to his feet. He turned around.
"Try that!" Ron shouted at Harry, the distance.
Ron flicked his wrist, jumped onto his Firebolt II, and flew back to Harry. Ron banished the broom as he jumped off.
"It's easy," Ron said to Harry.
"Weasley," said Coach Kline as he approached, "Always got a broom on you?"
"I know it's not legal for league matches," Ron said.
"I'll go," Harry said. Ron appreciated the distraction.
Harry ran, tucked and rolled, he came back up onto his feet, and took another tuck and roll. Harry apparated back.
"We're supposed to do it from standing," Ron said.
Ron tucked, pushed himself over, and rolled out of it. Harry did the same.
"One advantage to being lighter," Harry said, "This seems easier for me."
"I've got cushioning," Ron replied.
"Alright," Coach Kline said, wand aimed to conjure up a stepping block, "We'll go higher."
Six inches up, Ron's toes gripped the edge of the block as he tucked, pushed himself over, and rolled out of it on the grass. Harry did this. Once again, they did both, and the height was increased to a foot. Over and over, the blocks were increased in height until both Harry and Ron were falling from twenty feet up.
"Bruising guaranteed if you go higher, unprotected," Coach Kline said.
A wave of the wand, mats appeared across the grass. Ron rubbed at his shoulder, the soreness had started to build up.
"Tell Hermione everything," Harry said.
"Forget execution," Ron said, "She'd murder us first."
Ron stepped up the blocks, to reach twenty one feet. Ron tucked as he fell forward, as if his magic helped, he rolled, and stood, feet to the mat. Harry already at twenty two feet, did the same. Repeated it time and time again, to reach thirty feet.
"After this," Coach Kline said, "We are getting a bit risky."
"Really?" Ron asked, wondered if that was twenty feet earlier.
Ron caught Harry's glance, who kinda agreed, both wondered if Coach Kline had drank Hagrid's brew for magical creatures.
"With practice, you might get up to fifty feet with the mats," Coach Kline said, "However, the games don't have mats."
"Why bother with them?" Ron asked.
"Best to gain confidence with mats and nets," Coach Kline said.
"Nets?" Harry asked.
"These." Coach Kline waved his wand, nets appeared fifty above the grass of the stadium. "Maneuvers we're teaching can wreck havoc on your nerves. So, learn to trust the nets. Fly above, fall, and hold onto your brooms."
Coach Kline flew his Nimbus 1000 around the edge of the net, and went above it. Ron followed, flew on the Nimbus 1000, like the coach. Harry hovered next to Ron, about thirty feet above the net.
"Like this." Coach Kline rolled, dropped, the hand that held the broom, face first onto the nets.
"We're already in deep water," Ron said.
Ron rolled, held, the net caught him by his side. Ron moved, his toe that snagged first, and shifted his weight. Web of the net beneath his feet, he began to raise himself when the entire net shook. Harry dropped onto it, and Ron fell backward. Net to his back, Ron laid there for a moment, laughed.
"Fun," Ron said.
"Glad to hear that," said Coach Kline on the broom, "Lets see how high you're willing to go."
Feet spread, the push up, Ron sat, shifted his weight to his feet, enough to slip the broom beneath him. Ron rose on the Nimbus 1000. A flick of the wand, the walls to the stadium added tick marks over the view of the country side around them.
"Try…" Harry said as he flew up to the hundred foot tick, a good fifty feet above the net. "Here."
Harry rolled, dropped with the hand on the Nimbus 1000. Ron flew another dozen feet, dropped. Ron watched as Harry hit first; Ron hit next, face first.
"Again!" Harry shouted.
A roll up, Ron clutched the broom, and rolled again, the broom brought him out of the net, and he flew upward. Him and Harry went another twenty five feet up. Ron rolled first, fell. The tumble, Ron hit on his backside, the stretch down, with its bounce back. Almost a jump, Ron was on the broom before Harry hit.
"One fifty?" Ron asked.
Harry stirred, climbed on. They flew up, past the one fifty to two hundred. Ron felt a slight trepidation, the net seeming smaller, but rolled as Harry did. Brooms in hand, they fell. Ron tumbled a bit, hit on his left shoulder, and the net sagged even further than before. Ron turned, laid there as his heart raced.
"Come on," Harry shouted.
Ron adjusted, shifted his weight, until he stood up again, and mounted the broom. Ron flew upward, this time to two fifty. Harry and Ron repeated this, higher and higher, to around seven hundred feet when Ron about hit the grass beneath the net. A blow to the whistle, and Coach Kline flew over them.
"Doing well boys," Coach Kline said, "Already a half hour over the limit, and any higher—you're hitting hard."
Ron turned, laid there, Harry climbed the net to lay next to Ron.
"It's fun," Harry said.
"Glad you approve," Coach Kline said, "Even value in falling."
"Need to go higher," Harry said.
"Tomorrow," Coach Kline said, "Best go before Notley vetos it."
Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder, apparated them both down to the grass below.
"That's the best way to avoid falling," Harry said.
"Not supposed to," Ron said.
Harry scrambled, got up. Harry stood there, waiting. Ron rolled to his hands and knees, pushed himself up, and stood. Brooms in their hands, they went to the box, returned the Nimbus 1000s to the closet.
"Suppose we shouldn't go and do that outside," Harry said.
"Already had a couple of games where that would've been useful," Ron said.
They went to the door in the corner.
"That's unusual," Harry said.
Other side, the red hair, stood George.
"They kept us out for you?" George asked, "Come and back up Fred, will you?"
"What can I do?" Ron asked.
"You're the captain," George said.
Took Ron a moment to realize it was the Gryffindor team. Harry motioned, and Ron followed George.
"Your butt's ugly," Ron said.
"So's yours," George said.
Luke Sedgwick, the current Reserve Keeper, and Stanly Emsworth passed them in the corridor. Ron followed George up the stairs into the club room.
"They're Hogwarts players, right?" Fred asked.
George pointed, Ron and Harry entered the coach's office. Coach Meyers stood there, watched.
"It's for Ginny," George said.
"Huh?" Ron asked.
"Just agree with it," Fred said.
Ron caught the glance of the Coach.
"As they're here for training," Coach Meyers said, "Makes sense to bring in the lot."
"Thank you," George said.
Fred nodded.
"Make sure they stay behaved," Coach Meyers said.
"You got him on the team," Ron said, pointed to Fred, "I've seen all sorts of things, so the word 'behaved' doesn't apply to them."
"Come on," Fred said.
Hands that pushed Ron out of the office, the chuckle of the coach.
"Let see if they've cleared it up," George said.
They went for the box seats, the ones that overlooked the pitch. Above, Emsworth flew the Quaffle toward the goal, as the blond haired Sedgwick defended.
"Okay you two," Fred said, "What's up? You've been here every day this week."
"This." Ron bolted for the handrail, leaned forward as fell. Ron tucked his head, rolled out of it, stood on the grass below.
"YOU'RE NUTTERS!" Fred shouted.
Ron bowed. Harry apparated next to Ron.
"You did good," Harry said.
Ron's stomach growled.
"Here," Harry said.
A grip to Ron's shoulder, the disapparation, the tightness, and apparation up in the clubhouse. Harry went for a plate, filled it with fish fillets and chips.
"Not super hungry," Harry said, "Split it."
Ron sat down across from Harry. Harry grabbed a fillet, summoned a bottle of brown sauce, and poured it. Ron dipped his into tartar sauce, ate it.
"You're surprised," Harry said, nibbling.
"Pleasantly," Ron said.
"I'd be lying to say I'm not worried," Harry said, "How soon until Finnigan's group learns of this?"
"Well, I hope to hell they don't," Ron said, "Until then, we take advantage and train up. We could ask them their contingency plans, doubt we'll want to listen."
Harry shook his head, worked on a couple of chips, and held one.
"Having to fight it," Harry said, "Most of me still wants to shut up and turn this away." Harry put the chip back down.
"Listen to me," Ron said, "Focus on healing up, it's like removing every bone in your body, takes time for those to grow back. This is no different."
Ron dipped a fish fillet in brown sauce, handed it over to Harry. Harry took it, and ate it.
"I already am," Harry said.
"Thank you," Ron said.
Ron knew Harry was feeling better, the increased appetite was a sign that maybe their luck was improving.
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024