AN: Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
( - )
(Last Time)
Plans quickly started taking place in his head.
He already knew which tools to use. Now he needed to figure out how best to use them.
As he continued to ponder, he became aware of Umbridge's gaze.
The short, squat witch was staring almost unblinkingly at him from behind her desk. Her bulging eyes watched his every move. No doubt she was searching for any reason she could find to punish or humiliate him.
His lip curled.
He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
He wasn't prepared to play her petty little games, or at least not until his victory was assured.
( - )
Chapter 12
( - )
"Good evening, Miss Granger," Umbridge smiled sweetly as Hermione stepped through the open door of her office.
Sitting behind her desk, Umbridge looked like a particularly happy toad at that moment as she gestured for the young witch to take a seat behind the smaller desk in the corner of the room. The smaller desk had been taken from a spare classroom and was positioned in such a way that it didn't stand out too much, and yet would remain within Umbridge's view at all times.
"Good evening," Hermione replied stiffly as she placed her bag down on the chair and smoothed her skirt down before taking a seat. There was a small sheaf of blank parchment in front of her.
"Tonight, you will be writing lines for me," Umbridge said softly, her bulbous eyes fixed on Hermione.
Hermione felt her skin crawl.
For all that Umbridge looked like an ugly, pudgy middle-aged woman, there was just something about her that made her uncomfortable. It didn't have anything to do with her toad-like appearance or her excessive fondness for the colour pink. But instead, it was her fake, syrupy sweet voice, that never matched the cold, dead look in her eyes.
She had never been the most socially adept of people, Hermione knew that much. Though compared to Harry and Ron, she was practically a savant. But when it came to others of her age, she was woefully inept at making lasting connections with her peers. But even despite her deficiencies – not that she would ever admit to them out loud – even she could see that there was something deeply wrong with Umbridge.
Not that this realisation meant much at the present. After all, Umbridge was a teacher, and so held a position of power at Hogwarts. Which meant that there was nothing she could do at the moment, except register her complaints with Professor McGonagall, and hope for the best.
"Lines?" She questioned. The punishment felt mundane and tame, especially considering what she had been expecting from the Ministry stooge.
"Yes, just a few lines," Umbridge giggled. "And what I want you to write is 'I will not create a disturbance in class'."
"How many times?" Hermione asked as she rummaged through her bag looking for a quill. If it was just going to be some lines, then she could easily deal with it.
"As long as it takes for the message to properly… sink in," Umbridge responded with a sugary sweet smile as she watched Hermione pull a quill and some ink from her bag. "Oh no, dear. I'm afraid that won't do. I wish for you to use a very special quill of mine."
As she spoke, Umbridge pulled a dark black quill out of one of the drawers in her desk and handed it to Hermione.
Taking the quill, Hermione eyed it suspiciously.
"When you're ready," Umbridge said softly, her eyes locked on Hermione.
"Should I use my own ink?" She asked.
"The quill will provide its own," Umbridge shook her head.
Nodding – she had heard of self-inking quills before – Hermione turned to the parchment in front of her and started writing the first line. As she did so, she allowed her thoughts to wander away from the mindless, innocuous task she had been given.
Why was she the one to be punished?
She hadn't been the only one to question Umbridge's less-than-impressive course aims. Admittedly, she had started the questioning and had probably been the most persistent when pointing out how ineffective an entirely theoretical-based class would be when it came to getting examined on practical work. But several others had also added their questions and opinions into the mix. Besides, why was asking questions a bad thing? Surely in a school of all places, asking questions should be lauded and encouraged.
She scowled at that thought, even as her mind drifted to her friend, Harry.
She had noticed that he had been suspiciously silent in class. He hadn't raised a fuss over the nonsensical course aims, or Umbridge's deliberate baiting. Instead, he had just bobbed his head and got on with it.
She gritted her teeth.
It was most unlike him.
Harry never just meekly complied. Ever since she had known him, he had always been outspoken in his opinions. When he saw something was wrong, he would speak out against it. When he saw others were in trouble, he would back them up without a second thought. When people lied, he would call them out, regardless of the consequences.
Harry was reckless and honest to a fault. He never shied away from confrontation, especially when confronting he knew to be wrong, nor did he ever leave his friends in the lurch.
Yet, that is exactly what he had done in class.
Umbridge's baiting had given him the perfect opportunity to set the story straight and make his own side of the narrative clear to those around him. It would have been a bold and brave first step to clearing his and Dumbledore's names and getting the truth of what had happened in the graveyard circulating through the halls of Hogwarts. But when push came to shove, he had folded and backed down.
In all the years they had been friends, she had never been so disappointed in her friend.
Sure, his recklessness and temper could get annoying and grating at times, especially when she was on the other end of it. But at least he was being honest and passionate. This new Harry though, the one that had survived the graveyard and the dementor's attack…, was like a stranger to her.
He smiled more than he used to and acted as if everything was alright. He also seemed much more confident and sociable than ever before.
But despite these positives, under the surface, she could tell something was wrong. His smile for all that it was outwardly warm and welcoming, seemed false. It never made it to his eyes.
Her lips thinned.
Harry had always been an emotive person. But now it was like she was looking at a stranger. The way he looked at her… it was like he was constantly judging her worth and finding her wanting. His emerald eyes lacked the familiarity and warmth they had once had. And the way he acted, and the cheerful smile and demeanour he put on for all those around him. It made her skin crawl. He didn't act like the Harry she knew, but instead like a fraud pretending to be the kind, awkward boy she knew, and doing a bad job of it.
A sudden, sharp pain in her hand, dragged her mind back to the present.
Letting out a hiss of pain, her eyes flicked down to the back of her hand.
Bloody letters had started forming as the very sentence she had just written on the parchment was carved onto the back of her hand.
Crimson rivulets dripped down from the open wounds and dropped onto the parchment.
"Try not to make a mess dear," Umbridge's satisfied voice cut through her shock. "I'd hate to have to make you start again."
Eyes wide, she stared at Umbridge in horror.
Looking back down at her hand, she watched as the skin quickly healed. The wound was now gone, but both the blood and the stinging sensation remained.
"Hurts, doesn't it, Miss Granger?"
'Sink in', she thought, remembering Umbridge's words.
Her eyes narrowed, and she could feel the fury within her building. "Dumbldor-"
"Won't do a thing," Umbridge cut her off, her head tilting innocuously to the side. "I am fully within my rights as a teacher to punish you how I wish, so long as the punishment in question is in accordance with the Ministry's 1872 Discipline in Schools Act, which this does. And, as unpleasant as this may seem now, Miss Granger, you will thank me for it in the future. Now please continue. I would hate to have to give you another detention for disobedience."
She could feel her eyes burning.
That couldn't be true.
But even as she thought that she remembered back to some of the books she had read and her own observations about the wizarding world. The culture she was now in was not as progressive or liberal as the one she had grown up in. Would it really be that surprising to learn that some forms of corporal punishment were still allowed in schools of magic?
No, it really wouldn't surprise her.
A bitter taste filled her mouth.
"And I believe that will be another detention, Miss Granger. Do you want to try for a whole week?" Umbridge said, her voice hardening.
Gritting her teeth, Hermione didn't give her the satisfaction of seeing her tears as she instead kept her head down and started writing again.
( - )
Leaning back in her chair, Delores Umbridge watched as the Granger girl silently seethed. Normally she wasn't the kind of person to take pleasure in causing suffering. She didn't normally gain any sense of personal gratification or satisfaction from it. After all such a thing was far too gauche. But right now, it was difficult not to feel at least a little bit satisfied as she watched the uppity girl continually maim herself as she forced herself to continue writing lines with the blood quill.
Despite what her detractors might think her dislike for the child had nothing to do with her blood status. She gave lip service to such prejudices when it served her purposes. But wouldn't call herself much of a true believer in blood supremacy, especially considering her own murky background. No, instead it was her presumptuous attitude, confrontational manner, and above all, her friendship with Harry Potter, that engendered her displeasure.
Looking away from the frizzy-haired girl, she forced her attention back to her marking.
Her expression hardened, as she scathingly eyed the poor penmanship – Tracey Davis would not be receiving a good grade for this dross, regardless of the actual content.
Dipping the nib of her quill in some red ink, she frowned.
Her first week at Hogwarts had not gone as she had initially planned.
The other professors had seen through the politics of her appointment with ease, and so acted distantly to her at best. They never said anything strictly against her. Nor did they openly disparage her. But they also didn't reach out and offer her any assistance or support either. Instead, they just engaged in malicious compliance. They would answer her questions with monosyllabic unhelpful responses and would feign ignorance to every pointed query she made about the unusual happenings that had been going on at the school over the last few years.
Professor Quirrell apparently had merely had a mental breakdown at the end of the school year and left the country to recuperate. The rumours of his death on the third-floor corridor were just schoolyard gossip. It didn't matter that no one had heard from the man in years.
As for what had actually happened. Apparently, the truth of the matter was that he had just left the county to get some space and clear his head at the end of the school year, and never returned. Another rumour she had heard. was that he had returned to Romania and ended up having a fatal run-in with a vampire. The very same vampire that had traumatised him just the year prior to his death.
Nobody had a good answer to what had actually happened, or at least, not one they were willing to give her. And perhaps the most infuriating thing for her was that most of the teachers actually seemed to believe the cock and bull story that Dumbledore had spun for them.
The events which involved the Chamber of Secrets were likewise just as unbelievable, as apparently the goings-on a few years ago were merely overstated rumours.
The truth of the matter, according to her colleagues, was that some as of yet unidentified student had in fact smuggled an illegal pet into the school and that that pet had gotten loose at some point over the school year and had started attacking other students, hospitalising several of them.
The business regarding the Chamber of Secrets was apparently just a smokescreen conjured up by the desperate student as a way of hiding his mistake behind the mystery of the Heir of Slytherin, as well as a way of shifting the blame to another, even as he desperately tried to recapture his pet before anyone else caught on.
The fact that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley received awards for 'special services to the school' not long after the rampant and unidentified pet had been put down was merely an unexplained footnote at the end of the year.
Her hands clenched into fists at the sheer arrogance of Dumbledore just handwaving away such goings-on.
Even the other teacher hadn't fully stuck to the party line with that one. At the same time, those in the know about what had occurred remained tight-lipped about the true happenings of that year, especially around her.
The same could be said of the Sirius Black fiasco two years prior. Only at least with that debacle, most of the details matched up with what information the Ministry had. Save of course for the events that led to his eventual capture and then miraculous escape only hours later.
Nobody seemed to know the answer to that.
Though Severus Snape at least seemed willing to share his theories on what had happened. Not that they were much more than that. The greasy man's hatred and vendetta against Harry Potter was obvious to even an idiot, and useful though that vendetta would no doubt be in the future, at present his insinuations and accusations were as weightless as they were baseless.
Scribbling out some particularly harsh criticism at the bottom of the page she was currently marking, she continued to direct her growing frustration into her paperwork.
Things were not going to plan at all.
Not only were the staff being deliberately unhelpful and obtuse, but Dumbledore was completely disinterested in her existence and had yet to give her the time of day – her every request for a meeting with him was summarily ignored and dismissed. The students were likewise resistant to her presence and to the Ministry-approved curriculum.
None of her lessons were going over well, and already she could tell she had gained the resentment of pretty much the entire student body. Which was especially frustrating, considering she had championed the new curriculum at the Ministry, in accordance with the expert advice she had received from education specialists, like Slinkhart himself.
Grabbing another essay from the waiting pile, she went after every mistake with a vengeance.
She had hated Hogwarts when she had been a student in its halls. The day she had left been one of her happiest, as it meant she could finally start living the life she wanted to live. She had never had any desire to return to Hogwarts as an adult.
After all, even when she had been a child herself, she had despised children. They were noisy, dirty, rude and a complete nuisance. It was why she had chosen a profession which didn't involve them.
Only for her to end up as a teacher.
The things she did for Cornelius.
Some of the tension bled from her shoulders at the thought of her close friend and mentor. As with all things when it came to her career. She would place her faith in him and wait for it to pay dividends. It was how their relationship had always worked. He led and she followed, and together they both advanced.
Her lips curved up into a slightly wistful smile. When they had first met she had been a part-time secretary in the Department of Sports and Games, and he had been a trainee Auror that was barely scraping through basic training. They had both been at the bottom of the barrel.
And how things had changed.
Now he was the Minister for Magic, and she was his Undersecretary and eventual successor. Not that he knew about the last part just yet. No, it would still be a few years before she pulled the rug out from underneath him and deposed him. She still needed to grow her support base and get more dirt on those who would no doubt oppose her ascension.
Her mood brightened at that thought.
She liked Cornelius on a personal level.
But in the end, it was just good business.
She had risen as high as she could while working beneath him, which meant that all that was left was to use him as a stepping stone to bigger and better things.
A slight smile flitted across her face at that thought.
Only for it to fade just as fast.
But for her dreams to pan out she needed to continue being useful. Which meant establishing control over Hogwarts and ending the damaging rumour that Dumbledore and the Brat Who Lived were spreading.
Potter.
Her expression darkened, and she looked over at his little friend, her suddenly sour mood lightening as she watched her suffer.
It was like a balm to her frustrated soul.
She might not have been able to strike at Potter yet – he was proving far too careful to be provoked –but his friends lacked his self-control. Which in turn gave her the opportunity to punish them in his stead. If he wouldn't lash out on his own, then she would force his hand by going after his friends.
Her eyes narrowed.
Unfortunately, the boy was being careful and tight-lipped. Unlike his friends, he wasn't spouting his nonsense off in public. Instead, he had taken a more insidious approach. He was working in the background and undermining her from afar using proxies. It was a clever approach. But not clever enough to escape her notice.
She returned her gaze to her marking, even as she started thinking about how best to reign the boy in.
She needed to shut him up before his incendiary rumours damaged Cornelius's – and more importantly her own – career.
She also needed to get dirt on Dumbledore, both to help with the Ministry's takeover at Hogwarts and as something she could keep in her back pocket for later. After all, having blackmail on one of the most powerful and influential wizards in the world would certainly be a boon. Especially if one knew how to leverage the information, and as a consummate master when it came to the subtle art of blackmail, she knew exactly how she would use it.
( - )
(With Harry)
Umbridge was really starting to piss him off.
In every single class he had with her she always seemed to try and get a rise out of him. It was getting to the point that it was really starting to wear on his patience.
She truly was an annoying little shit. She was like a yappy little dog constantly trying to nip at his heels. He could tolerate her for the moment, but eventually, he'd lose his cool and drop-kick her into the next life.
The same could be said of Snape. He'd always known the sallow-faced potions master was a deeply unpleasant, insecure and petty individual, especially when it came to him – he knew the reason was the less-than-stellar relationship he'd had with his father. But where in his last life he had been an irritant. Now the man was almost unbearably irritating.
Like with Umbridge it was beginning to get under his skin.
He had always liked to think of himself as a patient and pragmatic person – through regular use of Occlumency he could keep his temper and mask his true feelings with ease when convenient – but even he had limits, and Snape was starting to test them.
The odious little man seemed to delight in antagonising him at every opportunity. He was doing it almost as much as Umbridge. Only unlike Umbridge, who only made snide comments and the occasional sly, disparaging statement to provoke a reaction. Snape outright abused his authority and the house points system and took points off him for every infraction imagined or otherwise – up to and including smirking and breathing too heavily – all in an attempt to alienate him from his housemates and humiliate him in front of the other students. And that wasn't even taking into account his constant commentary on his capabilities, intellect and celebrity status. Simply, put Snape was being a complete cunt.
Still, for the moment, he was keeping his cool.
This, amusingly, only seemed to further goad both Umbridge and Snape's ire. So much so that they had started trying to antagonise him in different ways. More so Umbridge than Snape, as while he seemed content with just taking away meaningless house points and making disparaging remarks, Umbridge instead decided to try and get at him through his 'friends'.
Mainly, she went after both Ron and Hermione, as the two of them were well known for being his 'best friends'. With her easily taking advantage of Ron's short temper and Hermione's high-strung nature. Already, they had both received detentions in their first week. Hermione in their first lesson with her for arguing with Umbridge about the course aims, and Ron for snapping at the stunted toad during one of their class discussions.
Hermione, he knew, was currently doing her detention at that very moment. Ron's wasn't until Monday evening, as he'd only been assigned it earlier that day following their latest Defence Against the Dark Arts class. The entire class had involved reading chapter five of Slinkhart's book, and then awkwardly discussing the merits of the many dumb ideas suggested within the text. It had been painful, to say the least.
Still, on the positive side of things, her change in tactics was substantially less effective than if she had kept hounding him personally. They also came with the added bonus of her shifting at last some of her attention away from him as she instead went after his 'friends' in his stead. It made it far more worthwhile to keep the ever-loyal Ron and Hermione on as his 'friends' as it gave him an extra buffer to use against Umbridge.
Still, dealing with Snape and Umbridge was something he would worry about later.
For now, he would tolerate them in the hopes that, as the school year progressed, they would get bored of his lack of reaction and chill the fuck out and leave him alone. And if they didn't… well his approach to dealing with Draco Malfoy's shit was paying off. So, he'd use similar tactics with them. Only a lot more subtle than just outright intimidation and threat of grievous bodily harm. After all, controlled and targeted violence was a very effective answer to a lot of problems. In his last life, he'd gotten pretty good at wielding it both when fighting with the Order and later with the Deatheaters.
A slight smile played across his lips as he envisioned cutting both Snape and Umbridge down a couple of pegs. He already had in mind several ways he could deal with them, and only about half of them were fatal. It was useful to have a spare, untraceable wand like the one he had pilfered from the Black Family Library.
His cheerful smile quickly faded as a sudden cold breeze swirled around him, refocusing his mind on the present.
The Quidditch season had started, and with it came the Quidditch team tryouts. Which on the surface was a pretty innocuous event as honestly, he didn't give a shit who ended up as Gryffindor's new Keeper. Hell, he didn't even like Quidditch
Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for the other Harry, who was not only a big fan of Quidditch but was also the Seeker on the Gryffindor team.
His right eye twitched as he looked up at the half a dozen figures blurring about far above him as they ran through their try-out drills.
He had taken lessons in his first year and had a passing interest in using brooms as a mode of short-range transportation. But beyond that, he hadn't done much flying and so didn't have much experience. He didn't have anywhere near as much experience as the other Harry who had apparently been flying for the Gryffindor team since his first year.
His mouth felt dry, and his grip on the firebolt in his hand tightened as he tried to think over his options.
From what he could see there were three things he could do about his current position as the Gryffindor team's star player.
He could either get himself injured so he could sit out the rest of the season and avoid both wasting his time and embarrassing himself. The downside of this option was that Madam Pomfrey was a very skilled healer who could deal with most injuries pretty swiftly. The only things she couldn't mend with either a flick of her wand or a short stay in the hospital wing, were head injuries, magical diseases, afflictions caused by potent curses, or debilitating wounds from powerful magical creatures.
Considering those were his choices, he was keeping this option as a backup.
The second thing he could do would be to either just quit the team or to get himself banned by provoking Umbridge or Snape – if he hit Umbridge over the head with his broomstick she might ban him from playing for the rest of the season as some kind of ironic punishment.
The downsides of this option though were pretty evident.
If he just quit the team, he would lose face with all his House and undermine a lot of the goodwill and influence he was currently trying to build with his nominal peers. Such a thing would set him back quite a lot, and the following isolation and loss of minions would throw some of his future plots into disarray.
Similarly, if he got himself punished, not only was there a pretty good chance that he wouldn't be banned from Quidditch – it would be a pretty obscure punishment – but the follow-up punishments would eat into his free time and stop him from schmoozing the members of other Houses outside of classes. After all, it would be far too limiting to have his power base start and end with just the Gryffindors. They were useful meat shields, and some of them would be useful contacts for the future. But at the same time, he also wanted to build up connections with the scions of the many other wealthy and politically influential families as well, and a good chunk of them were based in the other three Houses, though mainly in Slytherin and Ravenclaw.
No, such an option was far too risky, and would likely be just as damaging to his reputation as just quitting the team. After all, he was trying to convince people he wasn't a socially retarded, attention-seeking, troublemaker.
However, there was a possibility that he could leverage his misbehaviour, and use it to craft himself a rakish, devil-may-care persona as a daring rebel and rabble-rouser. Those types had their own charm and charisma, which if used right, could also be beneficial.
He grimaced. At the same time though, those types always seem to end up as martyrs for their cause, and that was the last thing he wanted. Especially if those around him bought into his hype, and actually expected to walk the walk.
He shivered at the thought of actually being expected to back up any of his promises.
Accountability was a dirty word in his vocabulary.
With the other two options out of the way, this left the final option. He just needed to grit his teeth and play Quidditch. It would be awkward at first as he tried to fine-tune his pretty average flying ability into something resembling actual competence. And there was a distinct possibility it would backfire, and he'd end up humiliated. But failure could be easily excused by shifting the blame onto others, and the pros of becoming a half-decent Quidditch player and wowing his simpleminded housemates outweighed the cons of having to spend time pointing the fingers at others and making up excuses for his inadequacy.
If needed, he could always go with the standard excuse and just accuse the referee of being biased. That, or he could take a deliberate hit from a bludger and claim the Weasley twins had messed up.
Those were just some of the excuses that he could use. Give him a bit more time, and he could probably prepare half a dozen others to shift the blame for his incompetence.
Taking solace in his slowly forming plans, Harry shifted his attention to the rest of the hopefuls who were still awaiting their tryouts to join the team.
His gaze rested on Ron, and a slight frown formed.
He could vaguely remember Weasley making Keeper last time around.
Though from what he remembered he was so bad at the position that he had only lasted a few games before being unceremoniously booted off the team. Admittedly he hadn't attended any of the games – they were far too loud and sociable for his liking – but the Hogwarts rumour mill was a desperate beast that ate up any and all gossip and spread it to the four corners of the school with gleeful vindictiveness.
His frown faded, and his lips quirked into a smirk.
Now that he thought back on that time, he could also remember Longbottom kicking off when Malfoy needled him and Weasley about the redhead's failure and the Gryffindor team's continued lack of success. The two of them had ended up having an impromptu duel which had ended with Malfoy losing twenty points and Longbottom receiving six months of detention from Umbridge.
At the time, he hadn't cared much as Longbottom had been little more than a vague nuisance to him. But after the fallout with the war, and his subsequent imprisonment due to Longbottom's surprising showing of competence at the very end, thinking back to Longbottom's abject humiliation was somewhat of a balm to his smarting ego.
He really needed to decide what he was going to do with Longbottom now that he was no longer the Boy-Who-Lived and had instead been relegated to a useless wallflower. The boy's family likely had a decent amount of prestige to it still, even if it was only a shadow of what it had once been. But at the same time, the boy was both a bumbling incompetent and a constant reminder of his past failure.
Choices, choices….
He shook his head, that was a problem for future Harry to deal with.
Turning his attention back to the field, Harry watched a fresh bunch of flyers take to the air. The try-outs weren't just for the new Keeper position, but also to gain some substitute players. Angelina was looking for two second-string players who could slot into the Chaser positions, or the Seeker position at a pinch, and substitute Beater who could take over for Fred or George if one of them ended up getting injured during the match.
For this reason, the try-outs had been turned into a competition where each prospective Keeper would try to block shots from either Alicia or Katie and two would be substitutes, while Fred or George, plus a substitute Beater, would run interference. The competition would be best out of five. With the would-be Chasers being tested on their accuracy and ability, the Keeper on their saves and ability to read the game, and the Beaters on their… well beating.
Thankfully, this approach meant that there wasn't much for him to do aside from standing on the sidelines with Angelina and whoever else on the team wasn't up in the air at that moment, giving his commentary and opinion on whoever was trying out at the time. Which honestly, was kind of fun, because as much as he disliked the idea of being forced to play Quidditch. Being super critical and a little bitchy was entertaining in its own way.
"Looks like it's your mate now," Angelina's voice cut into his thoughts.
"Hmm," Harry hummed, his gaze shifting to the next group to go up. The group included Ron as the Keeper, Ginny and Dean as the chasers, and a short kid from the year below called Peakes or something, as the Beater. It was a motley assortment of people. None of them really looked all that impressive to his less-than-discerning eye as a complete Quidditch amateur. "He looks nervous."
And honestly, he did, Ron's already pale skin had somehow become even more pasty, and his knuckles had turned white from how hard he was clutching his new broomstick.
"Well, he'll need to deal with it," Angelina said brusquely. "If he can't pull himself together in training then what chance does he have in the middle of a game."
"True," Harry bobbed his head.
"His sister looks pretty confident though," Katie added.
Harry's eyes flicked to the gangly, young girl. She did look a lot more confident than her brother. Though that wasn't saying much.
"Fred and George never mentioned anything about their sister being much of a flyer," Angelina said, her gaze on the ginger-haired girl too as the entire group took to the skies. "But they didn't say much about their brother either."
"They're hardly the most doting of older brothers though," Katie said, her gaze following their progress. "But they can all at least fly, which is more than can be said for some of the others."
"Dean looks like he is the best of the group at flying," Harry added with confidence he didn't feel. His yearmate seemed to be pretty confident and wasn't flying badly, but he wasn't an expert when it came to the nuances of flying brooms.
"You reckon?" Angelina asked. "He's not that tight on his turns."
"But he at least is aware of his surroundings. Peakes doesn't look like he knows what's happening." Katie spoke up.
Harry hummed again and watched as Ginny raced down the field with a quaffle a grin clear on her face as she easily dodged a bludger from Fred or George, and passed the red ball to Alicia, who in turn offloaded it to Dean, who then took a shot and… scored.
"Close," Harry said generously, "It looked like Ron at least got his fingertips on it."
"Close isn't good enough." Angelina cut in bluntly. "If he didn't hesitate, then he would've saved it."
"Both Ginny and… Dean… wasn't it? They both seem pretty in sync." Katie added positively.
"Probably the best we've seen yet," Angelina nodded. "But then again, Peakes is doing a piss poor job of disrupting them, and George looks to be more interested in baiting his brother and sister than in properly testing them."
Harry could almost sense the disapproval coming off her. He had no doubt that George Weasley would be getting a bit of a dressing down after the session was over, and not in a fun way.
"Harry, you've not had a chance to fly yet," Angelina said suddenly. "Get up there and start disrupting. Pretend you're an opposing Chaser. That should even things up a little and test both Dean and Ginny's ability to adapt, and Ron's ability to read the situation."
As she spoke, Ron just about saved his second shot.
The Chasers now only had a few shots at the goal left before Angelina would call time. Alicia also seemed to realise this, as she continued to push them by making them test out new formations and drills amidst their attempts at taking shots at the goals.
Grimacing, Harry glanced over and saw the expectant look in Angelina's gaze.
This wasn't something he would be able to avoid without at least some pushback. Besides which, he would need to get on his broom and fly at some point, and at least if he fucked up now, he could claim it was because he was taking it easy on the newbies.
With that thought in mind, he swung his leg over the side of his broom and tried to get comfortable. The Firebolt was a top-of-the-line model, and as such had all sorts of enchants on it. Not only to make sure it was fast and easy to control. But also, to make sure it was comfortable, as it was not uncommon for Quidditch matches to go on for many hours, if not days.
Not that those enchantments seemed to be doing much for him now, grimacing in discomfort, he took a deep breath and kicked off.
The moment he did, his broom shot off like a rocket leaving him clinging on for dear life.
The wind buffeted his face – it felt like it was repeatedly punching him in the face – and his hair and clothing whipped around him.
Struggling to get control over the overpowered twig beneath, he forced his legs up and into the stirrups protruding from just in front of the brush end and grasped at the handle tightly.
His core muscles started to burn as he physically dragged the handle of the broom around.
It had been far too long since he had flown a broom, and never had he flown one as powerful as the Firebolt.
Hurtling forward at breakneck speed, the wind roaring in his ears, Harry couldn't stop himself from barrelling through the airborne melee overhead scattering all the other flyers.
Ginny let out a high-pitched 'eep' as she was forced to take evasive action.
Dean just shouted something incomprehensible as he nearly fell off his broom in shock.
Alicia easily adapted as she looped around him and took possession of the ball Dean had just dropped.
Ignoring everyone else, Harry tried to calm his racing heart as he dug his knees into the shaft of the broom and pulled the handle up.
In response his broom almost seemed to skid through midair, turning a straightforward rush into a wide drift as he swerved through the air sideways.
Letting out a yell of surprise, Peakes missed the bludger as he tried to avoid Harry, which in turn left him open to getting fully whacked in the gut by the hurtling metal ball of doom.
With a grunt, Peake was sent spiralling to the ground retching and desperately trying to keep a grip on his broom.
Barely paying attention to the younger teen's situation, Harry just about managed to stabilise himself in time to see Alicia put a quaffle through one of the goal hoops – Ron hadn't even noticed as he was too busy gaping at Harry.
Wobbling in the air, Harry surveyed all he had wrought.
Peakes was on the ground now and hunched over in a foetal position clutching his gut.
George was red-faced with laughter.
Ginny was red-faced with embarrassment.
Dean was desperately trying to remain focused as he caught the quaffle a smirking Alicia threw his way.
And Ron only just now seemed to have realised he let a goal in.
Gripping tightly onto the handle of the broom, Harry pulled it upwards and rose into the air in a much slower and smoother manner.
The Firebolt was a completely different beast than a Cleansweep.
"Surprise," he called out weakly at the looks of askance he was receiving from those around him.
"Adapt and continue!" Angelina's magnified voice shouted out from down below. "You need to remain on your toes at all times!"
"Yes, captain!" They all chorused, all save Harry who was only just now getting a handle on what he was doing. It was pretty difficult to keep a broom in one place, what with the wind pushing him all over the place.
"Oi Harry, talk about keeping them on their toes you absolute nutter!" George laughed as he swept passed him with unnatural grace. "I think Ginny nearly shit herself!"
"I did not!" Ginny screamed red-faced from nearby, nearly dropping the quaffle as she spun to shout at her older brother.
Ignoring the byplay between the siblings, Harry gripped the handle of his broom and pushed it down.
With a sudden lurch and a swooping feeling in his stomach what was supposed to be a gentle descent turned into a steep dive as Harry shot toward the ground like a bullet, sweeping down right in front of Dean and Alicia, making Alicia laugh as she barrel-rolled around him, and Dean swear as he fluffed his shot and hit Ron straight in the face with the quaffle, bloodying his nose.
"Ron, you're bleeding," Ginny said with a grimace as she swept low and retrieved the quaffle before it fell to the ground.
"Bloody hell, Dean!" Ron shouted; his voice stuffy as he tried to stifle a very bloody nose.
"At least you saved it, Ron!" George grinned, lazily sweeping by and hammering a bludger at Dean.
"Dammit!" Dean cursed as he dodged the speeding bludger by a hair.
Pulling up from his barely controlled dive, Harry once again swept through the formation, this time he pulled up near George, almost unseating the laughing Weasley.
"Pay attention, George!" Angelina shouted from down below.
Dragging his handle around now that he had made it above the rest of the players, Harry tried to keep the broom on an even level. From what little he knew of Quidditch, Seekers essentially just flew in circles around the pitch for most of the game looking for the snitch, and only really did anything when they spotted the elusive golden snitch.
That seemed simple enough.
Tightening his grip and shifting his hips he made a sharp turn and went in the other direction.
He was slowly getting the hang of things as he remembered how to fly.
It was kind of like riding a bike if said bike could move in all three dimensions and move at over one hundred miles an hour.
"One more left to go!" Angelina's magnified voice drifted up to him. "Harry, get stuck in!"
"Fuck off," Harry muttered to himself. He was barely able to keep his broom moving in a straight line, he didn't have the capability to engage in a highspeed aerial dogfight just yet.
Glancing down below, he saw that Peakes had rejoined the rest, and though still winded, was once again working in tandem with George to keep the Chasers on their toes.
Shifting his gaze around, he quickly spotted that Dean had the quaffle again.
Seekers, he remembered, also needed to divebomb sometimes. It was how they closed in on the fast-moving snitch.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered to himself. He didn't quite have the skill to duel with the other player in the air yet. But he could at least dive a few dozen metres and then pull up.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled the handle of the broom up and then shoved it down with brutal ferocity.
With the air shrieking in his ears, he once again shot down toward the ground, his eyes watering from the wind.
Shooting down like a bullet, he whizzed past George and Peakes, forcing both of them to swerve away. Seconds later he passed right in front of Ginny. The edge of his training robes caught the tip of her broom and sent her spinning away in an uncontrolled manner. Pulling upwards as hard as he could, he felt the air punch him in the gut as he straightened out of his dive and shot right passed Ron and between the hoops.
With a yell, Ron dodged away and missed the final shot Dean threw in after him.
Ignorant to what had happened, Harry, his knuckles now white, tugged his broom handle to the side once again forcing him to drift as he swept around the edge of the stands the tail of his broom brushing against the wood of the stands. His focus was now on Angelina who was beckoning them to return.
Letting out a relieved sigh, Harry slowly and carefully descended, wobbling only slightly as he made it back onto the blessedly solid ground.
"Damn Harry, I know I told you to test them a little, but I didn't think you'd go that hard on them!" Angelina said gruffly as he unsteadily unseated himself from his broom.
His inner thighs felt like mush, and his head was still ringing from both the roar of the wind and the amount of g-force he'd just been subjected to. It was possible he might have whiplash too.
"Just keeping things interesting," he replied with a weak smile.
"That's one way of describing it you absolute maniac!" Alicia grinned spiritedly. "I've not had that much fun in a while!"
"Yeah man, I don't think I've ever seen you fly that crazily before." George nodded, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Well, if you were trying to replicate how the Slytherin Chasers fly, then you did a decent job. Thuggish, hyper-aggressive and erratic, that is definitely how they do it." Katie nodded approvingly.
By this point, the rest of the flyers had returned to the ground.
Peakes was looking a little queasy as he clutched his stomach.
Ron was dazed and nursing a bloody nose.
Dean looked windswept but otherwise fine.
Ginny was still red-faced and didn't seem to want to make eye contact with anyone.
"Right, that's the last of the try-outs done," Angelina said clapping her hands together and looking over the four younger teens. "You four did decent out there. Now head off to the showers, get cleaned up, dressed and back to the common room with the rest. The rest of you stick around, and we'll go over all the tryouts."
Looking around, Harry noticed that most of the other candidates had already traipsed off by this point – probably after receiving similar instructions from Angelina.
Taking a breath and shouldering his broom, Harry watched the others file off, even as the rest of the existing quidditch team gathered around Angelina.
"Oi Harry, that means you too," Angelina shouted, gesturing for him to join them.
Despite knowing he wouldn't have much to contribute, Harry nodded his head.
He probably couldn't give much of an assessment of the different player's skill levels. But considering how coveted the positions in the Quidditch teams were, he might still be able to use the upcoming discussions to buy some additional favour and influence in the House of Lions. All he had to do now, was work out how best to pimp out the available position in the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
( - )
Slouching through the portal and into the common room an hour or so later, Harry, freshly clean and showered, took a moment to survey the area through tired eyes.
The main room looked pretty busy.
All the overstuffed chairs and sofas were occupied, and a fire was roaring away merrily in the hearth. There was a background rumble of conversation which filled the room as dozens of different groups chatted away to one another. Some of those present looked to be playing games of chess or gobstones. While still others were just chatting, a few were getting started on their homework before the weekend.
Noticeably, the group of friends he had been building for himself had snagged some of the more prime sofas near the fire.
The moment she saw him enter; he saw a bright smile spread across Parvati's face as she gestured for him to come over. Her actions drew the attention of others, and soon enough he saw quite a few faces glancing over. Most of them looked happy to see him, which was nice.
Forcing a grin across his tired face, Harry shouldered his broom and headed over to where they were. As crossed the room he caught sight of a familiar mane of frizzy brown hair and a pale face in his periphery.
Over at one of the tables at the very edge of the room, Hermione was sat with Neville, a forlorn look on her face as she cradled her hand. The hand noticeably had fresh bandages wrapped around it, and going off the body language and his expression Neville was in the midst of comforting Hermione.
His lips thinned.
It looked like Umbridge was up to her old tricks again.
Pushing down his distaste for the squat toad, Harry forced the smile back on his face as he turned away and made it to his friends. With a loud sigh of relief, he slung himself down into a seat between Lavender and Parvati, both of whom happily made room for him.
"How's things?" He asked cheerily, as he learnt his Firebolt against the nearby coffee table and looked around.
Dean had already rejoined the group and turned away from the animated conversation he had been having with Seamus to grin at him.
"Just about alive," Dean chuckled. "I was just telling them about that stunt you played earlier."
"Sounds pretty wild!" Seamus laughed. "From what Dean was saying, you scared the shit out of him and Ginny!"
"Well, Angelina wanted me to keep them on their toes," he defended himself, his hands raised in mock surrender.
"Well, you certainly did that," Dean shook his head. "Like I was telling you all, he was being a right menace! Never seen anything like it."
Lavender and Parvati laughed.
"Why doesn't that surprise me," Lavender rolled her eyes, playfully pushing his arm.
"What can I say," Harry shrugged. "I'm a known troublemaker."
The others laughed.
Looking around at the cheerful atmosphere, he felt himself relax slightly as he sat back in his seat and allowed the warmth of the fire and the ongoing conversation to roll over him.
There were a lot of downsides to coming back to Hogwarts.
Sure, it beat Azkaban, but at the same time, it did feel like he had taken a step back in life as he regressed from a very skilled, highly capable and fully qualified wizard to a very skilled, highly capable and completely overqualified student.
But at the same time, it felt nice.
The last time around, he hadn't bothered to make too many friends or companions. In fact, in the end, he hadn't had much of either. Which hadn't bothered him at the time as he had been too obsessed with learning magic and living a comfortable life in the lap of luxury to care. After all, he'd always thought that that stuff would come later when he was more settled.
But later, when the war had finally ended. He'd found himself on the wrong side of history. His lack of friends and allies to speak up for him, call for clemency or falsify evidence on his behalf. Had certainly taken its toll when it came to his final sentencing.
He hadn't been a misled youth who deserved a second chance at life after some light rehabilitation, but instead, a hardened loner, killer and sociopath who needed to be locked away for the good of society.
He smiled as he looked around at the grin faces and homely atmosphere.
This time around he wouldn't be making that same mistake.
( - )
AN: Hope you enjoy, and please do let me know what you think. I've run this through Grammarly, so should have picked up most of the typos etc., if you do see anything let me know.
Have a good one.
Greed720.