Sympathetic Properties

by Mr Norrell

Having been treated as a servant his entire life, Harry is more sympathetic when Dobby arrives, avoiding Vernon's wrath and gaining a bit of freedom. That freedom changes his summer, his life, and the world forever. A very long character-driven story that likes to play with canon.

43. Trying Times

AN: Due to the multitude of stories this story is telling through all the different perspectives, parts of different scenes overlap and so take place at the same time. Just thought I'd let you know because it happens a couple times in this chapter.

.o0O0o.

The world was still awash in predawn's gloomy gray as he peeked between his bed curtains to see if anyone else was awake. Seeing nothing, he quietly slipped out and made his way to his brother's trunk, hoping today would be the day. For most of the week he'd tried to find the opportune moment and though he'd come close, it had never worked out.

The draw bolts were easy to open silently, it was the lock which posed the biggest problem, and the quick-working alohomora had almost got him caught once before when it threw everything open too quickly. Struggling with the hairpin a minute later and hoping it didn't break, George heard the faint tink! of success only to almost immediately ruin everything with an over-excited sigh of relief. Working fast, he opened his brother's trunk and rooted around to seize his prize.

Trunk closed and locked again, he beat a hasty retreat back to his bed and shut himself inside.

"Lumos," he whispered before a tiny flame shot from his wand so he could properly see.

'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches,' the title read and George wasted no time flipping to the contents to review what it held. 'Chapter One: Ending Without Failure.'

This made him rack his brain for a minute to remember what it said because it was so weird to talk about ending things at the beginning of a book. Still, he supposed knowing when and how to end things with no hard feelings was better than having a blow-out row which left you hating each other, but he and Fred had only skimmed the chapter. They weren't involved with anyone yet so why read it until they needed to?

The meaning behind 'Chapter Two: Gregarious Grins' came more quickly.

'Introduce yourself again through your smile,' George repeated to himself, recalling how the book said a simple smile could begin to change things by serving as a sign of interest and signaling a positive attitude. 'A smile may not do much for you now,' a memorable quote said, 'but next time they'll smile back; a frown will come back to you seven times over.'

'Complimentary Compliments' was about disarming her with kindness, 'The Best Present is Presence' was about showing affection by making an effort to be around the girl you fancied rather than showering her with gifts – which was helpful when you didn't have much money to spend – and 'Helping Hands' directed you to find "the little ways to help her out." He didn't remember either section having advice on how to get closer to be able to do it though – which was his problem – because after years of hanging out through Quidditch, showing up without a beater's bat wouldn't be normal at all.

George doubted the next chapter 'Be a Fist When She Needs One' held much in the way of an answer, though he supposed being the first to stand up for her could help break the ice. It'd be hard to 'Be Her Ear to Hear,' 'Be Her Shoulder to Cry On,' or 'Be Her Pillar of Strength' without being closer to her socially already though. He supposed 'Show Interest in Her Interests' could be the way forward but from what he remembered of the chapter it had more to do with once you were already spending time with the girl you fancied.

The next was about asking them out in a far more meaningful way, so he doubted–

The door to their room opened and George heard heavy footfalls marching closer.

"Nox!" he quietly cried, silently extinguishing his wand as he scrambled to hide the book in his covers. Safely stowed, he opened the bed curtains to find Oliver Wood.

"Already awake?" the boy noted approvingly. "Good, get Fred and meet on the field in fifteen minutes."

"Why? Tryouts aren't for hours," George noted, the room only a tiny bit better lit from the moment before.

"And I want my team warmed up and ready for those tryouts, so get moving," the Quidditch captain replied.

The curtains on his brother's bed opened and his disheveled brother looked out.

"Wood, I thought I heard your dulcet tones," Fred yawned. "Why are you getting us up this early?"

"Because you two wanted tryouts."

"And you couldn't tell us about this yesterday?" his bleary brother asked. "Good luck getting the girls to join when you can't get to their rooms to wake them up."

"Already have it taken care of," Wood replied, already heading for the door. "Fifteen minutes."

Fred looked over to him, his curiosity readily apparent.

"What's he thought of that we haven't?"

.o0O0o.

Her alarm clock tap–tap–tapped at her and she tried to ignore it.

Tap–tap–tap! it insisted, drawing a moaning grunt as she fought against the early morning light.

Tap–tap–tap–tap–tap!

She reached out to grab her clock, hit the doohickey to shut it off, and pushed it off her bedside table before rolling over to get more sleep.

Tap–tap–tap–tap–tap–tap–tap–tap–tap!

Her eyes shot open.

'Clocks don't tap,' she thought as she turned back towards the noise.

"Ugh, answer it," came Alicia's voice from her bed across the way, "and kill whoever couldn't wait 'til breakfast."

Angelina got up and yawned as she opened the window to find a fussy and bedraggled-looking owl scolding her as if she were the reason it was up so early rather than the other way around. She took the note strapped to its leg and shooed it away. What it said didn't make the morning get any better.

She walked over and opened her friend's bed curtains.

"Ah! No! Bad!" Alicia cried helplessly. "Make the sun go away."

"Oliver wants us on the field in fifteen minutes," she told the ever so sunny early riser.

"No, I quit Quidditch. Go away," the other girl said before covering her head with a pillow.

"No you don't. Get up," Angelina said, dismissing Alicia's customary complaint as she did what she always had to do. "Get up–get up–gettup–gettup–gettup–gettup," she repeated, shaking the girl's shoulder and then whole body as she refused to move.

Arms flailing in a vain attempt to ward her off, eventually the girl tossed the pillow aside to glare spitefully up at her. "You're worse than Wood," the girl declared as she got up.

"You're welcome," she replied. "And better me than the gong going off again," she reminded her as she turned to get her Quidditch things from her trunk.

Out of the corner of her eye Angelina saw the door open.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To pour a bucket of water on Katie," Alicia replied.

Angelina just had to smile and shake her head as she got her things. As much of a chore it was to wake her up, the girl was practically a Weasley once she was.

.o0O0o.

He, Ron, and Hermione had gone to bed planning to visit Hagrid before tryouts on Saturday. Harry, however was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would've liked by Oliver Wood.

"Whassamatter?" he asked groggily.

"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"

Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

"Oliver," he croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," said the tall and burly sixth year, his face set in a mask of grim determination. "If we're going to get the best team, I want all my seasoned players warmed up," said Wood heartily. "Come on, grab your broom, and let's go."

Yawning and shivering slightly while trying to figure out how Wood thought playing favorites was in any way fair, Harry climbed out of bed.

"Good man," said Wood. "Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes," he added before shooting a look at Ron's bed. "And go ahead and get Weasley up too."

Harry put on his glasses as Oliver left and then went to wake up Ron. Quietly grumbling about how he managed to become Wood's favorite, Ron got ready as Harry scribbled a note to Hermione explaining where they'd gone before finding his scarlet team robes and a cloak for warmth. Together they went down the spiral staircase to the common room, their brooms on their shoulders, Ron looking awake but unsure of himself as the reality of tryouts settled over him.

In the common room Harry's brain finally started working, leaving him to wonder where he was supposed to leave the note to make sure his girlfriend found it. He could leave it on the table they'd been studying at the night before, but then anyone who walked by could throw it away. Thinking about cleaning though gave him an idea.

"Dobby!" he said, calling the bright-eyed house-elf to his side with a pop!

"Harry Potter needs Dobby?" Dobby asked excitedly.

"Yes, could you put this near Hermione for me?" Harry asked, handing the note over to him. "Don't wake her up, just put it where she's likely to find it."

"Oh, yes, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby can be doing that," Dobby agreed with a smile. "Does Harry Potter need anything else?"

"You got anything to eat?" Ron asked.

A few pop!s later had them trying to balance carrying their brooms while eating two grilled cheese sandwiches apiece. While they were stumbling their way towards the door they heard a clatter behind them and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck with something clutched in his hand.

"I thought I heard your elf show up, Harry!" the excitable younger boy said. "Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you–"

Handing his Nimbus 2000 to Colin, Harry was able to get a look at the photograph the boy was brandishing under his nose. Waving up at them were a black-and-white Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Colin, all with differing degrees of enthusiasm.

"Will you sign it?" Colin asked, offering up a quill and reminding him what Hermione had said about how potentially short-lived the boy's stay in the wizarding world could be.

"Sure," said Harry, feeling a little guilty for the boy's hardship and uncomfortable with what people would say about him giving out autographs.

Suddenly a solution popped into his head.

"As long as Ron does too," he added quickly.

"Wha–Me?" a confused Ron asked.

"You're in it too, aren't you?" Harry pointed out with a look on his face.

Ron seemed to get the idea.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed.

While Harry hoped this would be the end of it, Ron had other ideas.

"You should get Hermione to sign it too," he grinned as he handed back the photograph, "that way you have the whole set."

"You think she would?" the boy asked.

"Sorry, Colin, We've got to go," Harry said instead as he tried to get them to the portrait hole again. "Quidditch practice."

"Oh, wow! Wait for me!" Colin cried, scrambling through the portrait hole after them. "I've never watched a Quidditch game before!"

If he thought having Katie explain the game to him at the Hopefuls meeting would have answered all the boy's questions, Harry was definitely wrong. Now the younger boy had more questions than ever; what kind of brooms they had, the positions they'll be playing – Colin wanted to know about all of it. Harry ate slowly as they moved through the castle, if only for an excuse not to answer questions and let the boy talk to himself.

Colin though didn't stop talking until they were all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch field. It was almost funny, and made him wonder if there'd ever been someone happier to just be at Hogwarts than Colin was. They were finally able to shake him off a bit when they reached the changing rooms.

"I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" the boy called after him in a piping voice before hurrying off to the stands.

"Is that what fans are like?" Ron asked once the boy was out of earshot, though he looked a little green around the gills from all the Quidditch talk.

"I wouldn't know," Harry said as he flattened down his hair. "I've never had one before."

"You think I should wait here?" Ron asked when Harry turned for the changing rooms, suffering from a bout of nerves.

"If Wood wants you here, you might as well come in," he shrugged, trying to come up with something reassuring to say. "Don't worry, you'll be great."

Ron didn't look particularly convinced, but he did come inside.

The rest of the Gryffindor team was already in the changing room, though Wood was the only one who looked truly awake. Fred and George Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite them.

"There you are, what kept you?" Wood said briskly as Harry felt the waves of unease radiate off Ron at being the only one not in scarlet Quidditch robes. "Good to have you, Weasley," he added with a nod. "Take a seat, I wanted a quick talk with everyone before we get onto the field."

As soon as they found a seat 'Captain' Oliver started in on them.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering down at them all. "Gryffindor hasn't won for six years now. We should have been a shoo-in for the Quidditch cup last year, but unfortunately – due to circumstances beyond our control–"

Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. Whether they should've had reserve players or not, he had been the one unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match last year, meaning they'd been a player short and suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat clearly still torturing him.

"–But it doesn't change the fact we've got the best – ruddy – team – in – the – school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye.

"We've got three superb Chasers."

Wood pointed at Alicia, Angelina, and Katie, who yawned.

"We've got two unbeatable Beaters."

Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder as he began to snore.

"We've got the youngest Seeker in a century, who's never failed to win us a match!" Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. "And me," he added as an afterthought.

"Unfortunately, being the best isn't always enough," he continued, rapping Fred on the head with his knuckles to wake everyone up. "So this year we're focusing on developing a deep well of new talent – like Weasley here," Wood said firmly, prompting Harry to give Ron a nod of support. "And I expect everyone to pitch in to make sure new members get the training they need to become as good as possible, as fast as possible, because the first match isn't far away.

"Alright, everyone, let's get out there and get ourselves warmed up!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed more slowly afterwards, with Ron putting on a brave face.

The sun was fighting the early morning mist when they emerged onto the field and the grass felt particularly springy.

"I want three laps around the stadium from everyone, in-and-out between the towers, as fast as you can," Wood ordered. "Weasley," he barked, pointing at Ron. "Stick with the other two, they'll show you the ropes. Alright, everyone, hop to it!"

With that Oliver shot off into the air, and everyone else moved to do the same.

Soaring upwards as the cool morning air whipped his face woke Harry far more effectively than Colin's questions or Wood's words ever could. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch field. Following Wood's path, he soared around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred, George, and Ron – though he wished Ron would relax and not look like he's trying to strangle his broom.

"What's the clicking noise?" called Fred as they hurtled around the last corner.

Harry looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.

"Who's that?" Fred asked.

"Just Colin," Harry said, putting on a burst of speed to take him away from Colin.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy."

"It's nothing," said Harry quickly. "It's Colin Creevey; he's in Gryffindor. He just likes taking pictures."

"They're probably for the Harry Potter Fan Club he's starting," Ron said with a grin, choosing the worst time to take a break from his nerves.

"There's a Harry Potter Fan Club?" Katie asked as the Chasers joined them.

"There's no Harry Potter Fan Club," Harry said forcefully.

"Too bad," Fred said with a grin, "George and I had our hearts set on an autograph."

Harry noticed the look on Ron's face.

"You can get one from Ron then," he said jokingly before his best mate could poke at him first. "He gave one to Colin already."

The twins turned to look at their brother.

"It wasn't like that–," Ron tried to defend himself, only to be saved by Katie.

"You think we can get a team picture?" she asked Oliver.

"Maybe later," he replied, still not comfortable with Colin's presence. "After tryouts. You three take Weasley and have him Keep on the other hoops," Wood said, gesturing to Ron before turning to the other Weasleys, "You two get a Bludger and make some trouble for them."

Harry wished he could've watched how Ron was doing but Oliver pulled a slingshot from his robe and soon had him chasing golf balls around to practice diving for Snitches. Occasionally he'd hear one twin – he couldn't tell which – complement Angelina on one of her goals, while the other was left to feebly agree. She seemed to give them suspicious looks though, almost as if expecting a prank to come next.

It might've been an hour or so by the time Wood stopped sending him back and forth all over the stadium. The sun was up completely now and had burned away the remnants of the morning mist. Harry made his way back up to Wood just in time to see Ron hovering by the left goal hoop, duck out of the way of a Bludger, only to then dart upwards to guard the center hoop as Katie broke away from her climb to score on the one to the right.

Oliver didn't look too impressed by the performance.

"He's still getting used to the new broom," Harry said lamely. "His old one was a lot slower."

Wood kept his thoughts to himself but told everyone to pack it in for now. Since the morning was well underway, and he and Ron had been the only ones to have anything since dawn, everyone soon became rather keen to go back to the school for a quick bite to eat.

"I'm rubbish," Ron said as the two of them made their way back up to the castle. "I don't know what he's thinking, wanting me on the team. I'm going to make a fool of myself."

"You're not rubbish," Harry said supportively, wishing he had seen more than the one failed save he could cheer him with. "You're just not used to the new broom yet, and guarding three real hoops has got to be different than playing at home. And besides," he added, "the rest of them have been playing for years. You're sure to be better than anyone else who signed up."

"You see what that McLaggen bloke did?" the other boy asked miserably. "He signed up for everything – even made a new list and put himself down for Captain. He'll wipe the floor with me," he sighed, insisting on being depressed.

Harry wanted to say it wasn't true, but seeing the boy's name all over the signup sheet did make him look intimidating. Plus, the older boy was a lot bigger than they were. He pointed out since he was down for everything, he'd probably be picked for something else, like Beater instead of Keeper, but it didn't seem to help much.

.o0O0o.

No matter how hard she tried to ignore her, she could still feel when Hermione Granger was in the room. Ginny could feel everyone's eyes on the other girl. They all thought she was so special and important just for being Harry's 'girlfriend,' even when Harry wasn't in the room.

Was it too much to ask for people to look at her that way once in a while – or even just once? After all, it wasn't Ginny Weasley who fought with a professor and got detention for it. Fighting and detention were supposed to be bad things, so why was she being praised for it?

'And what's so 'cool' about detention anyway?' she thought to herself as she grumped her way through picking at her food. 'The twins get detention all the time and no one wrote Witch Weekly articles about them. It's just not fair she gets treated like she's special.'

"Are you done with your napkin?" her friend Luna asked.

Drawn from her thoughts, Ginny looked over to the girl beside her. Somehow the pale blonde had managed to confiscate all the cloth napkins around her and wrapped them around little bundles.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

"I'm making little lunches for the house-elves," her friend replied. "They do ever so much work cleaning up for us. This way they can have romantic dinners too."

Ginny passed her the napkin but otherwise didn't say anything because she knew if she did it'd only be mean and her new dislike of romantic dinners wasn't Luna's fault. That was another thing Hermione Granger had taken from her by scheming her way into the kind of candlelit dinner with Harry she'd always wanted to have. And it was worse because she did it behind her back when she'd been all mopey in the great hall with all the unspecial people, and then got her friends to make a scene, rub her nose in it, and run off to tell Witch Weekly, so they'd tell the whole country about it without her appearing to be behind it at all.

The girl really was smart, too smart, which made it useless to try and compete. She might as well try to play Quidditch against someone when they had a thousand Snitches ready to fly into their hand the instant the game starts, that's how useless it was. She knew she should just give up wanting to be special; it only hurt her again when the world told her she'd never be looked up to like Harry or Gwenog Jones.

A clattering run made her look up to see the Harry Potter fan, Colin, run in with his camera, a grin, and one of his many photographs. Seeing them, he waved and made his way over.

"I just got back from seeing Quidditch," the excited boy said as he joined them. "It was a blast, and you won't believe it. Take a look, Harry gave me his autograph!" he cried, passing over the photo like it was his prized possession.

At first Ginny wanted argue about everything: there wasn't a Quidditch game today, there were only tryouts – and it wasn't time yet, and Harry wouldn't give someone an autograph, he never asked to be a celebrity, he's properly humble, private, and hates his fame. But no sooner had all those thoughts flashed through her head when they all disappeared because, sure enough, Colin's newest photo was of him and Harry, and did have Harry's name on it. It was just wrong, seeing Colin with him like a proper celebrity; she didn't like it.

"Ron signed it too," Luna noted. "Must mean he'll be famous one day."

Ginny looked at the part with Ron and his signature. What would Ron, of all people, be doing giving out autographs? He wasn't special, and he was probably there just because he wormed his way into the picture by being Harry's friend. At least that girl hadn't–

"–I'm going to ask Hermione to sign it too," Colin piped in to say, twisting the knife of her boring life even further into her stomach. "That way I'll have them all. Think she will?"

"Probably," Ginny replied, pushing the picture back towards him.

"Wish me luck!" he said before rushing off to complete his collection.

"Did you want to go and watch the tryouts today?" Luna asked, getting back to making tiny elf-sized sandwiches as the older Quidditch players entered in their scarlet robes, telling everyone that they had been doing something official moments ago.

"I don't know," she replied, but what she really wanted to say was 'No, I want to be one of the ones trying out.' She didn't though because it would only make her look sulky. "Maybe," she said finally.

She didn't know why first years weren't allowed to bring their own brooms though, that was just stupid. It wasn't like first years who didn't know how to fly would have them anyway. It wouldn't really make a difference though, even if she had her broom. Unless you were already special, like Harry, they'd never let you try out for the team, much less actually play. They really made it unfairly difficult, but who cared what the littlest Weasley thought about anything?

.o0O0o.

Entering the castle, they made their way to the great hall to see if they could meet Hermione for a late breakfast but something struck him as odd as soon as they entered. It was too quiet for some reason, reminding him of the common room after there'd been a row and the two sides weren't speaking anymore. Looking for the source of it as they made their way down the Gryffindor table, Harry noticed the quiet tension was coming from Slytherin where Draco was sitting alone glaring mutinously at everyone.

"Good morning," his girlfriend greeted them as they joined her. "How was practice?"

"Great," he replied before Ron had a chance to respond. "Looks like a good day for it," he added optimistically, hoping to silently improve Ron's dour mood. "You get my note?" he asked, suddenly hungry again now he was around food and digging into an egg sandwich.

Hermione nodded. "Dobby deliver it?"

Harry nodded as he swallowed before motioning with his head.

"What's with Malfoy?" he asked, noting the older Slytherins shooting surly scowls Draco's way.

"I don't know, but it's been this way all morning," she replied before turning her sights on Ron. "You're not eating?"

"Quidditch was a bad idea," Ron said sourly, hunching over his empty plate. "I think I'm going to go back to bed and get the day over with."

"But you've been practicing all summer," Hermione rebutted.

"Yeah, and it's good to think about," he said, "but I was never going to try out for the team. Not for years, at least."

"That's ridiculous, Ron," she countered as Harry tried to blend into the background, hoping his girlfriend could do what he'd failed to. "All tryouts are for is to let people know who's interested and show them what skills you already have. No one expects you to be perfect, and how are you ever supposed to get better if you're only dodging apples at home?"

Ron had a thoughtful look on his face but anything more was cut off by the sudden arrival of post owls. He was surprised and happy to see Hedwig land next to him and nip his finger. Harry fed her the remains of his sandwich as Hermione retrieved her Daily Prophet from the owl next to her.

Something Hermione said a long time ago tugged at the corner of his mind and he looked more closely at his owl's white feathers. Perhaps unused to the scrutiny, Hedwig looked at him oddly.

"I was just–," Harry said to her self-consciously before abandoning it and turning back to his girlfriend. "Anything new with Lockhart?" he asked.

"Not that I see," she replied. "The Quidditch league is rioting though."

"What?" he and Ron asked together.

"Apparently they're mad at something the Ministry wanted but I haven't seen a real reason why yet," Hermione said dubiously. "What's 'other way' mean?" she asked them.

"Other–what?" Harry asked.

"Other way," she repeated. "It says here 'Quidditch teams are now calling on Dolores Umbridge to resign as Chief Warlock for the tyrannical other way regulation she proposed, posing serious questions about the future of the Quidditch season' – but it doesn't say what 'other way' means."

They both looked up at Ron, who was a bit pink around the ears for some reason.

"That's um– They're – you know," he finished quietly, looking around to make sure no one was listening. He continued when they obviously still didn't know. "They're… they're blokes who fancy blokes," he explained.

"You mean homosexuals?" Hermione asked, only for Ron to be the one to look confused. "Why would anyone– Wait, this is an anti-gay bill? As if bigotry against muggleborns wasn't enough," she said as Harry sensed a burning ball of ire building up in his girlfriend again as Hedwig flew away from the conversation.

"They want her to resign though," Harry quickly pointed out, hoping to diffuse the situation. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Yes, but they shouldn't have to in the first place," she replied, scowling as she read. "She never should've had the position if that's what she's after. I would have thought magic would be the great equalizer and the wizarding world beyond such backwardness, but apparently not.

"–She wanted to treat them worse than non-humans?" Hermione hissed, looking pointedly at Ron.

"It's the first time I'm hearing it," he said quickly, holding up his hands to ward off an attack. "I only heard most people prefer to forget they exist," he explained, still quietly. "I only know they do because the twins thought their dorm mate might be 'other way.'"

"It's better than persecution, I suppose, but still a backwards view to have," the girl maintained. "No one should have to live in the shadows and hide who they are."

"We're doing it now though, aren't we?" Ron replied. "We've hidden ourselves from muggles."

"Witches and wizards chose to hide from muggles," Hermione said in return, "so they could create a safe space where they could form a society of their own. They weren't made to live in the shadows and pretend not to exist by other people, they did it so they wouldn't be bothered."

"You see it your way, other people see it different," the other boy countered, and he had to agree with him.

"Even at the Dursleys I heard about Witch Trials," Harry said as a careful aside, lest it seem like he was arguing with his girlfriend. "Uncle Vernon would probably love to bring them back."

"Those trials likely only put non-magical people's lives at risk," she said without missing a beat. "Any real witch or wizard caught would likely find it an annoyance, at most, and that's if the Ministry didn't free them immediately. Society's also made great strides since then.

"But even granting their view for the sake of argument," Hermione continued, "having it done to witches and wizards in the past doesn't give them the right to do the same to other witches and wizards now. It's rank hypocrisy and makes them worse than those who do it in the muggle world, because they're supposed to know better. Now I'm all for them cancelling the Quidditch season this year if it teaches them a lesson," she said quarrelsomely.

"They can't cancel Quidditch!" his best mate exclaimed.

"They may have no choice if enough teams refuse to play," she said firmly. "It's basic collective bargaining. The players pressure the owners, then the owners and players pressure the government to change their policy."

"But it's Quidditch!" Ron reiterated.

"Who cares about Quidditch when you're talking about people's lives and freedoms?" Hermione asked, making Harry fear this was slipping towards a full-blown row; it had been such a happy few days of peace between them. "You think they should just accept being second-class citizens so you can have your entertainment?" she pressed. "What if one of your brothers or sister was 'other way'? You'd just abandon them too?"

"Of course not," he said firmly. "Why would I care?"

"Well, you're obviously too cowardly to play Quidditch," she said, striking a low blow, "so why should I think you'd be brave enough to stand up for them when they need it?"

Ron stood, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Who's a coward?" Ron asked defiantly, his face stubbornly set. "We don't see you getting on a broom. Come on, Harry, we'll show her who's a coward," the boy prompted before walking off, only to turn back to grab a sandwich before storming away again.

"Did you mean to do that?" Harry asked once Ron was safely away from them.

"Not until the very end, no," his girlfriend confessed as other Gryffindors around them stood to leave for tryouts. "We'd better hurry or you'll be late," she said as she checked the time and rose as well, seemingly unconcerned about how to stop the new row now it's started.

Wood had all but said Ron was on the team, but he hadn't actually said he was part of it either. Harry supposed if he did make it, Ron could be happy enough not to care how Hermione put him up to it, but if he didn't make it then it might make it worse. Why did everything in his life always have to be so difficult?

Harry saw movement at the Slytherin table which turned out to be Pansy Parkinson getting up to leave as well. Thinking she might be the one Slytherin in school who'd tell them what's going on, he took Hermione's hand to angle them in her direction as they made their way towards the door.

"Hey, Pansy," he called when they got closer, drawing a surprised look from the girl. "What's with Malfoy?" he asked.

Instantly the smug look was back on the girl's face.

"Nothing, he's still an arrogant, shameless liar trying to use everyone for his own ends," she said with relish. "The only difference is now everyone knows how repulsive he is."

"Have you been telling them about the Hopefuls?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, I'm sure it's been getting around," Pansy said noncommittally, "but this silent treatment has nothing to do with that. Draco's been boasting all week his father's buying a full set of Nimbus 2001s for our Quidditch team," she smiled maliciously, "and they have yet to arrive – but a letter apparently did telling him, in no uncertain terms, his father's not doing anything of the sort. So he's been basically outcast," she revealed, her lips twitching as if she really wanted to laugh.

"Even I didn't think he was pathetic enough to try to buy friends," his girlfriend said, shooting Draco a withering look.

"Never overestimate him and you'll never be surprised," the boy's former friend smirked.

Looking over at him, it was hard not to agree with Pansy and the other Slytherins. Draco certainly did look rather pathetic, which wasn't helped by the look he gave them when he saw them looking his way.

"Well, we've got to go," Harry cut in to say, eager to get away from Draco before it turned into anything more.

Pansy replied with a quick, sarcastic, "Yeah, don't let me keep you" before leaving them behind.

.o0O0o.

The twins passed her by without a word, though George did put his hand on her head the way he did every time he'd passed her in the last week, as if to remind her how short she is. Luna had finished the last of the house-elf meals and was arranging them on their plates when Harry, in another set of scarlet Quidditch robes, entered next to Ron. Both boys had windblown hair and Ron at least looked very worn out, and not in an 'I just woke up' kind of way; it could really only mean one thing.

"What was Ron doing with the Quidditch team?" Ginny asked herself more than Luna. "He's not really going to try out, is he?"

"His name was written down," her friend said, as if that settled everything.

She watched as they made their way down the table, but neither said a word to her. Instead they joined Hermione Granger a little ways further up the table, much like the older players did beyond them. It didn't seem fair for them to so easily exclude her, even if they were older.

And why did the twins and the others let Ron fly around with them if he wasn't part of the team? She was better than him, even with him using the new broom from Charlie. If they let him fly with them and try out then they should let her do the same; it was only fair.

A few moments later, two dozen owls – maybe more – flew in from the rafters. Ginny could see Harry's beautiful all-white owl among them, though she didn't look to be carrying anything. Still, she supposed it was nice his owl liked him because he didn't seem to care if anyone else did, except his 'girlfriend,' his one friend, and his fan.

A large owl landed next to her with a sudden thump! making her jump back in alarm, though the big, feathery, eyebrow-like tufts on its head made it look like the owl was the one who'd been surprised.

"Is this your owl?" she asked Luna, a little wide-eyed, though for the life of her she couldn't remember the Lovegoods ever having an owl this big.

"It isn't ours," her friend replied, leaning over to see what the mysterious owl was carrying while the owl contented itself with picking at one of Luna's napkin bundles in front of her. "It's for you," the other girl said finally, withdrawing a folded up bit of parchment tied to a small pouch. "Or these are at least."

Ginny took the pouch and little letter from her as the owl took off with one of Luna's elf meals clasped in its beak. The letter did have her name on it, and it certainly looked like her mother's handwriting. It was also very short.

'Ginny,' the letter started.

'Find somewhere private before you open the package, or they might take it away from you. I hope this gets to you in time. Have a good year.

'Love,

'Mum.'

This gave her more questions than it did answers. Had her mum and dad bought a new owl? What had happened to Errol? What did she send her, and why would anyone take it? What was so secret? And why did her mum, of all people, sound like she was breaking the rules?

Ginny showed Luna the note and squished the pouch with her fingers as she read it. She didn't feel anything inside but it wasn't like her mum to send her something with nothing in it. Then again, it wasn't like her mum to send her anything at all – which really made her want to open it right away.

"So where are you going to open it?" the other girl asked, making her imagine running all the way back up to their dormitory just to do it.

"Hey guys!" Colin Creevey cried, coming back from wherever he'd been. "Hermione signed it. Want to see?"

"Sorry, Colin," Ginny said quickly, standing as fast as she could and bringing Luna up with her. "Luna and I have to go to the bathroom. Girls only," she repeated, because if her mum really had sent her something secret, Colin should be the last person to know.

She ran out of the great hall, holding Luna's hand as they raced upstairs. They almost ran into a Ravenclaw prefect on the first landing but used it to ask the girl where the closest bathroom was. She told them about one on the second floor, which sounded perfect, because she warned them "No one ever goes in there."

When they got there Ginny saw that it really was perfect. Everything was chipped and cracked, and the whole place was dim and dingy, like no one had come in here in a hundred years. She could hear somebody crying in a far stall, but it was probably as private as they were going to get. Plus, anyone who's crying had more to think about than what they were doing.

Crossing the damp floor to the broken sinks so they could have what light the little candle stubs could provide, Ginny untied the little cloth pouch to feel around the inside edges.

With half her hand inside, she couldn't feel the inside edges. She couldn't feel anything at all, not even the cloth of the pouch.

She put the rest of her hand in. Still nothing.

"There has to be something, doesn't there?" she asked herself curiously.

"Maybe she used a mokeskin pouch," Luna said dreamily.

"Mokeskin?" Ginny asked, inching her fingers a little further in.

"Mokes are silvery-green lizards that can shrink at will," the other girl explained. "My father said mokeskin pouches won't let anyone but the owner take anything out of it, so if she used one by mistake only she could get what she sent you out of it."

"But it isn't scaly," she said, holding out the pouch to show–

Looking down at the pouch, Ginny noticed something odd. She had so much of her hand in it her fingers should have been poking out of the bottom of it, but they weren't – and she still couldn't feel anything inside it. That's when she remembered something.

"Charlie had a pouch like this – when he came over to visit, do you remember?" she asked, her excitement starting to grow again.

"The night with the cake?" Luna asked.

Instead of answering Ginny put more and more of her arm into the pouch, and the pouch took it all and kept going. Finally, after straining around in all directions to find anything she could, the tips of her fingers hit something small and hard, like a single gobstone, and she grasped it as hard as she could.

"I found it!" she said excitedly as she pulled whatever it was towards her and withdrew her arm.

Rather than being a small ball, what she found was only the tip of something far longer.

"I can't believe it," Ginny said as it got longer and longer. "She wouldn't have. She never liked me playing Quidditch," her disbelieving side said, while the bewildered part tried reminding her how her mum had suddenly stopped saying anything against it once Harry had shown up.

Her mum liking it or not, Ron's hand-me-down Shooting Star still emerged from the pouch in her hand. And it still didn't make any sense; her mum knew first years weren't allowed to bring their brooms but she had snuck one in anyway! Why?

"Looks like there's another note," Luna said with her head tilted sideways.

Turning the broom so she could see what Luna was looking at, Ginny saw there was something worked into the bristles with a bit of maroon yarn. It was a clothespin with another note. And while it was still a short note, for some reason there was more than one page.

'Ginny,

'You won't believe who I met on my first day of work.'

Instantly she had to stop. Her mother didn't work, not unless it was around the house. Could there be some other first year girl named Ginny with a hand-me-down Shooting Star and a mother who wrote like hers? It was rather impossible sounding, and Ginny didn't remember hearing there being any other girls named Ginny in class or when they were Sorted.

'She was very kind, if rough around the edges, but definitely someone to admire,' it continued, still giving her no clue if this was supposed to be for her or not. 'Have a good year, dear, and never be afraid to go after what you want. Congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud.

'Mum'

The last part certainly sounded like something her mother would say – but the rest sounded like someone she'd never met before. Curious, she turned to see what was on the next page. It turned out to be a photograph.

Ginny stood in shock.

There, looking right back up at her, was her mother, standing side-by-side with Gwenog Jones.

Her mother… and Gwenog Jones… doing the clawed-hands Harpy screech.

Her mother wouldn't–

She didn't–

And–

But–

W–

Her mind felt broken. Nothing made sense. Either she, or her mother, must have gone mad; it was the only way to explain it. It was just too weird to be believed. What was her mother doing out of the kitchen? What was she doing with anything to do with Quidditch, much less the Harpies? How did she meet Gwenog Jones? And since when has Gwenog Jones ever been kind?

'Gwenog Jones is never kind,' she said to herself. 'That's how she became the youngest Harpy Captain ever.'

"You have an autograph now too," Luna said, drawing her back to the here and now. "You think Colin would like to see it?"

"Hm?" she asked, looking at the photo again and trying not to get lost in the bizarre version of her mother it showed. Down on the bottom right was a block of blocky script.

'You go, Ginevra!' it said. 'You show those boys how to fly! – Gwenog Jones'

That definitely didn't come from her mother, but how had Gwenog Jones gotten her mother to change like that?

'Gwenog bullies her way through everything,' Ginny answered herself, 'so she must've bullied mum into it somehow. It doesn't explain why she thinks Gwenog is 'very kind' – unless she bullied her into thinking that too somehow.'

When she thought about what Gwenog Jones said, why couldn't she do it? They'd broken the rules for Harry last year, didn't they? So why not her?

'If Ron's going to try to be special and get on the team, there's no reason why I can't do it too,' she decided. 'After all, when you're given a miraculous change in your life, aren't you supposed to grab hold of it with both hands?'

Her grip tightened on her broom.

She could do it, couldn't she? She could be Sporty Girl Ginevra better than Ron ever could.

–Then she remembered.

"We're going to be so late!"

.o0O0o.

Looking at it, it was like a strange law of the universe made manifest. One person could stand quietly, two could do the same but they'll always want to talk, three would always have one babbling duo in it while four – four would result in ever-shifting groups of babblers. …Multiply it by ten and you have…

"That's a lot of people," she said, almost in awe of the bee-like buzzing the babblers made when she and Oliver came out of the changing rooms to find them all huddled together on the pitch.

"And exactly why I didn't want to have tryouts," Wood said. "Everyone always turns it into an excuse to be seen, and maybe one-in-ten can actually play."

Most would've called the older boy grumpy but she knew him well enough to know he's sulking.

"Yep," Angelina agreed, only slightly sympathizing with his position. "You could stick to your sheet because 'those were the rules,'" she said stuffily, "but throwing everyone out who didn't sign up will make you the most hated person in school and could run off the best player you never knew was out there."

Wood grunted an acknowledgement, not yet ready to be budged out of his sulk. She shook her head, Merlin knew why he called for tryouts if this was how he was going to be.

"Are you sure about splitting things up?" she asked, moving back to something the boy was more comfortable with.

"It's the best way to handle it, I think, based on who signed up," he said, answering a question she hadn't asked. "Far more people going out for Chaser than anything else, so it makes sense to deal with them–"

"–Not that," Angelina cut in to say before Oliver could give her a point-by-point breakdown of his view on proper tryout management. "I meant what you said back there," she said, gesturing back to the changing room. "I was too gobsmacked to question it before, but with this…," she waved to the nervous mob in front of them.

"Are you sure you want to split the team if we find enough players?" she asked again, properly this time. "I've never even heard of an Assistant Captain before."

"I don't think there's ever been one," Wood said, looking less certain than he usually showed. "McGonagall commended the idea when I approached her with it though," he reported, as if that's all it took to decide the matter. "And it makes sense, I've only got one year left after this; there should be someone ready to take over when I leave."

"And you think that's me?" she asked, feeling far younger than fifteen despite her birthday being less than two months away.

"Who better?" he said with a supportive smile. "It can't be Fred or George," he said with a look, "and Katie and Harry are way too young. That leaves you and Alicia, and of the two of you I'd say you're the more responsible."

"Thanks," Angelina said, feeling better about it.

"Might want to keep it quiet until this is over though," Wood nodded to the crowd.

"I can do that," she agreed as they hefted their brooms and moved to join the others on the Quidditch pitch before separating to go their own way. Angelina went around the crowd to where her fellow Chasers were standing as Wood fought his way to the middle of the pack.

"You look happy," Alicia noted with a sly half-grin as she got close. "Wood finally ask you out?"

"Wood's not interested in anything that isn't Quidditch," she replied with a look.

"And why would she be interested in Wood when she's already got a pair of twins chasing her?" the younger Katie asked the girl.

"Because neither one has a serious bone in their body," her dorm mate replied dismissively. "She tries hooking up with one of them she'll go mad in a month. They're setting her up for some sort of prank, flattering her like that, I just don't know what it is yet."

Angelina felt it was a bit unfair. She was pretty sure she'd seen them look at her a time or two, though truth be told she didn't know if it was only one or both since it's impossible to tell them apart.

"You never know, they could be growing up," the younger girl echoed her thoughts before she could open her mouth to speak.

"Yeah, but if she's waiting for someone to grow up, why wouldn't she be waiting for Lee?" Alicia returned immediately. "He's been following her around since second year."

"–Can you both stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Angelina finally interrupted, cutting them off before they could go any further along that particularly annoying track. Katie, at least, had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. "Wood's starting, so let's at least try to not to make a fool of ourselves, alright?"

"Everyone form up!" Oliver called over the babbling din, leading everyone to break up their conversations and gather around to hear what he had to say. "There seems to be a lot more people here than signed up," he said with a bit of annoyance, "so let's try to get through this as fast as we can.

"First things first," he said with all the authority he could summon. "If you don't have a broom, you can't try out." Wood then had to raise his voice to be heard over the disgruntled muttering the statement caused, "You're not going to score any points if you're stuck on the ground; it's just the way it works. So please make your way to the stands if you want to watch.

The mutinous mutterings got even louder as the few without brooms started moving towards the stands to join the rest of the watchers she now saw there.

"Everyone else–," he called, only to be interrupted.

"Wait! I'm here!" a small voice cried, and Angelina turned to see a pair of little first years run up with a single broom between them. "I want to try out," the red-faced redhead said as she regained her breath from running the whole way, though how she got one of the school's busted up old Shooting Stars away from Madam Hooch was anyone's guess.

Motion from around the way showed Fred and George angling to get a better view.

"And who are you?" Oliver asked, looking for any reason to run the first year off.

"Ginev–Ginny Weasley."

'Another one?' a surprised Angelina thought. 'There's just no stopping them, is there?'

Wood glanced over to Fred and George before he spoke.

"Fine," he breathed, "but your friend can wait in the stands."

Her friend seemed fine with that and skipped off to the stands after wishing her luck.

"Now, everyone else," Oliver said, getting back to his winnowing out process. "I'll be forming you up into groups of five and you'll be doing one lap around the stadium, going as fast as you're comfortable. This is not a race – not yet; I just need to know if you fly well enough to continue."

Angelina saw a third year she was vaguely familiar with slowly excuse himself and slip away from everyone else.

Katie and the newest Weasley – well, the newest Weasley boy Wood called 'Weasley' anyway – were called to do their lap with the first group. Knowing Oliver, he'd probably picked Katie because she'd probably take it as a sign to show off and race around the pitch faster than anyone else would dare and picked 'Weasley' in the hopes he'd take Katie's flying as a challenge and try to match her. The second year seemed more scared of making a mistake than anything and hopefully they could knock it out of him early so they could see what he's capable of.

The way she saw it, it was better for them to have to rein in a bunch of show-offs than have to try and push dormice into being lions. The show-offs would be a chore but the dormice would break and run away at the first sign of difficulty. And, she supposed, it was another way for Wood to encourage any bad fliers hoping to muddle their way through to reconsider what they're doing.

Angelina knew she should take her quasi-official 'Assistant Captain' position seriously and watch everyone's laps but seeing the older Weasleys sweep around and descend on the little one couldn't help but get her attention. Hoping she didn't see them muscle the girl aside, she slipped away from Alicia and got close enough to hear what's going on.

"No, good for you; knock yourself out," one twin said flippantly.

"Yeah, we're not here to tell you no," the other agreed a bit more seriously.

"If anything, we're just wondering how you swiped the broom."

"I didn't swipe it," the girl said defensively. "It's mine. Mum sent it to me."

The second twin looked dubious, the first just laughed.

"Alright, sure," that twin said with a grin, "If you don't want to tell us, it's fine. It's not like we're going to turn our baby sister in or anything."

Relieved she didn't have to go and defend the girl's right to play, Angelina moved to slip back around to Alicia without being seen. Something drew the second twin's eyes to her for an instant before–

"Angelina, you're up!"

Wood's call snapped the joking twin's eyes to her too and he immediately started whistling and wishing her luck. The other twin looked a little embarrassed by his brother's antics, giving her only a pained smile before she pushed through the crowd to join her group for their lap. So she supposed despite what Alicia thought, there might be one of them who was growing up.

The laps proceeded apace; the slow ones eliminating a few, the faster ones a few more, until Wood seemed to have shaken the weakest fliers out of contention. The Chaser tryouts came next and were divided into three parts: close-quarter flying, passing, and goal scoring. There were a few who were better than most, but on the whole she couldn't say she was all that impressed by anyone – so it looked like she was going to have her hands full training anyone Wood felt was good enough to be trained.

Unfortunately, while the Weasley girl had flown well during her laps, she wasn't what Angelina would call a natural Chaser. Whether through inexperience or fear, the girl seemed skittish when flying in close formation, and it was even worse when she had to fly and pass at the same time. Things went a little better when Wood brought in all the would-be Keepers and had them take turns trying to score on them; her instincts to try and fake a Keeper out when it came to scoring said she might be passable next year or the year after, but she was definitely hampered by the broom.

All-in-all Chaser might be a bit too much for her as a first year, if she was honest.

The Weasley twins seemed to be in an uncharacteristically deep conversation as Oliver tabulated whatever results and notes he'd been taking during all this, so she made her way over to them.

"I don't know," she heard one of them say, "It could go either way."

"The upside, I reckon, is everyone's rather middling this year," the other twin said in an attempt to ease the tension. "No one's really stood out, except Dumbbell."

"Dunbar," the first one corrected him, "and it's kind of easy to stand out when you fly into a tower. But even if Wood takes three out of the four new ones he's narrowed it down to, it's still iffy whether or not he takes Ginny."

Suddenly a thought occurred to her.

"Have you considered Seeker?" she asked them.

Instantly a twin flashed a grin at her.

"Tired of having us as Beaters?" he asked before turning to his brother. "Next she'll say beating a girl with Bludgers isn't the right way to hit on them, watch."

Angelina's pained look almost mirrored the other twin's at that but she let the idiocy slide.

"Not for you, you idiot," she countered, perhaps not letting it slide so much, "for her. A first year worked great for Seeker last year and she's smaller than Harry is."

The idiot looked back to his brother.

"I never thought of her as a Seeker before," he said, somewhat seriously. "Don't know if she'd be interested."

"Better to have her on the team than not," the other replied, already thinking things through. "She'll need a better broom though. If we can get Ron–"

"Beaters!" Wood shouted, calling them forth.

"That's us," the cocky one said as he shouldered his broom. "Wish us luck," he smiled cheekily, choosing to leave before she could refuse to say anything.

"Thanks," the other twin said, giving her a genuine smile for her concern before moving on to follow his brother.

Torn for a moment, she wished the second one luck – though she knew neither would need it. There had to be some way to tell if it was the same serious one from before or whether they took it in turns to be obnoxious. If they did it'd make it all the more impossible.

.o0O0o.

Harry had never noticed how uncomfortable it was not to talk when you were in a crowd of talking people, but Ron wasn't in the best of moods. He didn't know how to respond and wondered if just letting him be for a while might be best, so he didn't say anything. Still, it wasn't like he could pretend Hermione hadn't said anything or that she wasn't his girlfriend, which made what she said seem to loom over them.

It reminded him of the blow up Ron had at the Burrow when it looked like Ginny wouldn't be going to Hogwarts. If Mrs. Weasley was right, one of Ron's 'big red buttons' was anything hurting his family, but Harry didn't know if Hermione saying he'd abandon them would be enough to hit it. This could just be a normal angry response; she had called him a coward too.

Wood finally came out to get everyone's attention, though it got no response from Ron. Ginny then came running up with Luna in tow, which also met with stony silence. He also set off with nothing but a set face when called on to fly his lap with Katie, which Harry took to be a bad sign.

As silent as he was, Ron's flying did talking for him as he shot down the pitch like a bullet. Katie was quick on his heels and caught him on the first turn, and even did him one better as she began zigzagging between the towers as they screamed their way around the pitch. Ron took her up on the challenge and started doing the same, which made every back-and-forth a potential collision when they came in from different directions.

This came around to bite him though since it put him further away on the last turn and the final stretch became an all-out race back to Wood. Katie got there first but it was a close-run thing. Harry hoped the amazing display of flying would shake Ron out of his funk but the 'loss' to Katie didn't seem to improve his mood, so he kept his own lap fast but uneventful to keep it from getting worse.

Ginny turned out to be a decent flier; she wasn't as fast or bold as Ron but she was on Ron's old broomstick, which could often be outstripped by passing butterflies. Most of her group was on the slowish side but with her he thought it was more for control than anything else. Ron and Katie's lap must've shown how dangerous it could be so she was probably concerned about people running into her.

It turns out the concern wasn't unwarranted. Two people did collide on one run, trying to recreate Ron and Katie's stunt, while another hit a tower – though some said she was pushed into it. No one was seriously injured and Harry didn't know if people became more cautious or if it was just their first time on a broom, but everyone seemed to calm down afterwards.

There was a bit of a lag when the Chasers were going to be tested on their scoring and the people who were interested in Keeping were being called up as well. The issue seemed to be Cormac McLaggen, the boy responsible for 'accidentally' flying the girl into the tower, making a stink about getting a chance to do both tryouts at the same time. Wood was already ahead of the bullyboy though with the simple act of taking turns and making sure everyone had plenty of chances to score and keep.

Unfortunately, McLaggen seemed as good a Keeper as he was a Chaser. Waiting on the pitch for the whole thing to be over, Harry felt a huge spike in nerves whenever anyone flew towards Ron to score, but fortunately, whether because he was still mad at Hermione from before or was continuing to be irked by her cheering for him now, Ron seemed to be better than before too. He didn't catch the Quaffles like McLaggen did – it was more him pushing them out of the way – but it still counted, and compared to the one failed save he'd seen earlier, the difference was night and day.

He didn't know who was more relieved when Ron got back to the ground though, him or Ron, but they both felt better once it was over and Ron was finally eager to talk. While Ron had done better than either had expected, they both agreed McLaggen was good. If Wood was really going for a whole reserve team though Harry saw no reason why he couldn't have McLaggen as a Chaser and pick Ron as Keeper, which, unlike what Ron said, had absolutely nothing to do with McLaggen also going out for Seeker later too.

Things got even better when the Beaters were called and the Bludgers were in the air. With a strong arm and good aim, McLaggen was good there too; a pair of Bludgers from Fred and George did take him down in spectacular fashion eventually, but not before McLaggen took out several other competitors. Harry knew he was partial, but if he were Wood, he'd definitely have Ron as Keeper and use McLaggen as an all-around fill-in, because you could put him anywhere on the team and he'd do well.

It turns out he wasn't the only one who was partial because as soon as the Beaters' flying melee was over Fred and George came over to talk to Ron.

"We need your broom, little brother," one of them said, the addition at the end telling him it was probably Fred saying it.

"What–Why?" the boy asked in return.

"For Ginny," George informed them, raising even more questions.

"The Chasers are already finished," Ron pointed out, "so why does she need my broom?"

"She needs it because the Seekers haven't gone yet, and you've got the best broom of the four of us."

"But Harry's the Seeker," his friend maintained.

"And if he gets his head split open, who's going to fill in?" Fred asked with a look.

"The better her broom, the better her chances to get on the reserve team," George explained. "You don't want to be the one to ruin it, do you?"

"That'd make for a nice Howler," Fred said with a grin. "Ronald Weasley!" he said in a fair approximation of their mother's voice that almost had Ron looking over his shoulder for her. "How dare you not let your sister play. I'm absolutely disgusted!"

"You know how she gets," George nodded knowingly.

"Alright, fine, take it," Ron agreed, handing his new broom over to their blackmail. "But you make sure she gives it back!"

The twins walked away with only a wink from Fred to say they knew what they were doing.

.o0O0o.

"I'm a Chaser, not a Seeker," she told her interfering brothers. "I'm not going to let you take this away from me. I'll tell mum," Sporty Girl Ginevra warned, refusing to budge.

'Sporty Girls don't let anyone bully them,' she reminded herself as she caught of the Sporty Girl in Quidditch robes spying on them from across the way. 'Sporty Girls are the ones who bully others.'

"How are we taking anything from you when we're here offering you a broom?" Fred asked as if they really didn't know what's going on, and making her wonder how they got the broom from Ron in the first place.

"I don't need your help. I can make Chaser on my own," she said stubbornly.

"Of course you can, you're brilliant," George agreed, throwing her a little. "But we're not talking about you not being a Chaser, we're talking about you trying out for Seeker."

"And you only want me to try out for it because you don't think I can make Chaser on my own. Admit it," Ginevra pushed, daring them to say it so she could be mad at them.

George looked to Fred but he lifted his hands as if he didn't know what to say, not that he could say anything. She knew them too well to be fooled when they were doing something sneaky. After a moment George looked back to her.

"We're not trying to take anything away from you, we know you're a good Chaser. We saw you score on Ron all those times at home," he said. "We just think you'd be a good Seeker too; you're small, you have good reflexes–"

"–You'd be lightning fast if you had a decent broom," Fred interjected, getting in on the act. "You'd give Harry a run for his money if you wanted to. You saw what Ron was able to do with this earlier, surely you can do better," he said with a grin.

'Of course I can do better,' she thought. 'Anyone can do better than Ron, especially me.'

"You saw how many people went out for Chaser," George reminded her, making her Little Girl Ginny doubts well up again. "People who don't know better think it's easy and flock to it, which makes it hard for a good player like you to stand out. We just want to get you to show how good you can be."

"How?" the Sporty Girl asked, wary of any trick.

"What better way to show how good you are than going for what everyone's afraid of?" Fred said with wiggling 'spooky fingers,' making her look at him suspiciously. "No one ever goes out for Seeker," he explained. "They're always too scared they'll do something stupid when everyone's watching."

"Going out for Seeker against the powerhouses of Harry Potter and Cormac McLaggen will make everyone look at you again and notice of how good you are," the honest twin pressed, and she had to admit she liked the idea of the attention.

"And you'll have a secret weapon," the tricky twin said with a sly grin. "Since you don't care about making Seeker, there's no harm in trying out and not getting it."

"If it works, it gets you a better chance to make Chaser–"

"–And if the worst happens you still get on the team as Seeker," Fred winked.

"–Which you will have earned on your own," George nodded.

Ginny looked at her brothers closely, trying to spot some hidden tell. This didn't seem like something they'd pull but she couldn't see what they got out of it.

"Are you sure this isn't a prank?" she asked them finally.

"Not on you," Fred joked, "McLaggen maybe, but not you. Why would we ever prank you?"

"We solemnly swear we're up to no good," George added, placing one hand over his heart and raising the other. "You trust us now?"

"Harry! McLaggen!" rang the voice of Oliver Wood, signaling the start of the last round of tryouts.

George took Ron's Air Wave Gold from Fred and held it out to her.

"Anyone else for Seeker?" Wood called to a crowd who were just waiting for it to be over.

She hesitated only an instant before snatching the Air Wave from her brother.

"Me!" Sporty Girl Ginevra said running forward, her own broom left lying on the ground behind her.

As soon as she got to Wood, Harry, and the other boy came another voice crying "And me!"

Ginny felt a flash of annoyance at the world being intent on putting obstacle after obstacle between her and being special, at least until she saw who it was, then she almost laughed. She'd only met the girl today in passing but already knew Florence Fernsby had no business being on a Quidditch pitch. The rail-thin fifth year was like a stick with glasses and the only success she's had so far was not dropping the Quaffle or flying into anyone – and the last was because Ginny was aware enough to keep her at a distance.

'Honestly,' she thought as the girl hurried to them, 'it's more surprising she wasn't the one to fly into the tower. She practically flies with her eyes closed!'

"Alright, Harry," Wood said once Florence was close enough, "you come up first, since you know what you're doing. Everyone else, watch close and I'll call you for your turn," he told them before kicking off on his own broom with Harry close behind.

They came to a stop when they were level with the stands in the towers. There was a distant flash of light, which only could've come from Colin taking yet another picture, and when she looked back she saw Wood with a strange fork-like wand with a strap connecting its two prongs. She could see him saying something to Harry but they were too far away to make it out; Harry then shifted to sit more comfortably on his broom before Wood took the strange wand and pulled back on the strap, seeming to aim it off to one side.

The strap snapped back, hurling a small white speck into the distance. For an instant Harry didn't move – then suddenly he was looking all over the place as the speck disappeared. Ginny wondered how he could expect anyone to follow the tiny speck before Harry shot off after it as fast as he could.

He caught it maybe twenty feet from the ground, but it didn't seem the tryout was over yet. Harry brought it back up to Oliver Wood so the boy could fling it away again in a completely different direction. Squinting up at them as Wood flung it away for the third time and Harry scrambled to look for it, a scary thought popped into her mind.

"He's not having him close his eyes when he flings it, is he?" Ginny asked the older girl, hoping her big glasses would let her see what she couldn't.

"Of course he is," the burly third year called McLaggen scoffed. "Makes sense, doesn't it? A Seeker has to find the Snitch before they can catch it. If you back out now," he smirked, "you won't look too foolish."

If her look could've struck him down it would have, because Ginny sent her meanest glare.

"I'd rather look foolish than like a bully," Florence said, proving herself braver than she looked. Two years older than him or not, the boy was still the same size as she was. "Imagine being so scared of competition you push someone into a tower."

"Hey, if she can't fly she shouldn't be here," the boy said in return, not even denying the accusation they all knew to be true.

Ginevra wanted to say something back at him but couldn't think of what to say before the opportunity was cut short.

"WATCH OUT!" someone shrieked.

Ginny jumped and looked up in time to see Harry come streaking down towards the waiting crowd as fast as he could, pulling up just feet above where people were sitting on the pitch with the tiny white ball clutched in his fist. A smattering of applause broke out once the shock started wearing off, though most of it came from the stands. Her heart was pounding way too fast to do the same and she had to remind herself that she didn't care if she didn't make Seeker, she was here for something else.

"Alright, uh – Florence," Wood called as Harry coasted back to the ground to rejoin Ron.

The older girl flew off at such a stately pace she might as well have been flying sidesaddle.

"You're a first year, aren't you?" the smarmy boy asked her as Wood began explaining what was going on to the lanky girl above them.

"My name's Ginevra," she said stubbornly, refusing to let the wormy feeling in her stomach get the better of her.

"You're not even supposed to be here, it's against the rules," the foul McLaggen continued his prideful poking with a smirk.

Sporty Girl Ginevra refused to respond. Instead she watched Florence waft her way after the tiny white ball in an odd slow arc, flying straight at where the ball was rather than where it was going to be. It was no real surprise when the ball bounced twice before the girl finally caught it.

"Is that broom yours or did you borrow it from someone?" the intrusive boy asked. "I don't suppose it matters either way. I wonder how much trouble you're going to be in for having it."

Ginny wouldn't put it past him to run off to tattle on her as soon as tryouts were over. After all, why stop at running girls into towers when you can have them thrown off the team and get their brooms taken? She finally thought of something to say though.

"Not as much trouble as you're going to be in if you try to get me in trouble," she growled threateningly.

"Oh, is that so?" McLaggen said with a fixed grin, promising a hard fist to the arm if she said anything more.

"I've got four older brothers in school," Ginny informed him as Florence soared off again. "Three are here now and the other's a Prefect."

Her threat seemed to work, a bit at least. He shifted his weight to lean away from her on his broom, and at least pretended to watch Florence's tryout.

"You're a Weasley then," he said, finally working it out despite her telling Wood who she was when she first got there. "It explains why Wood even let you compete. He's either playing favorites or he's doing it to keep the twins happy."

"My brothers have nothing to do with it," she said, getting grumpier by the second when she should be getting happier that Florence was doing so badly, despite her finally able to catch the third one. "I'm doing this on my own."

"If you say so," the foul McLaggen said after a while. "I don't suppose you'll ever really know, will you? They're not as big as Wood but there's two of them and they're clever; who knows what they threatened him with to put more Weasleys on the team? It's the only hope you have if you've got to share brooms between you, isn't it?"

"You're worse than Slytherins," Ginny said spitefully. "Florence is right, you're nothing but a bully."

"Doesn't make me wrong though, does it?" he smirked as a shadow from above turned into Florence gliding down again, her tryout apparently over.

"Red!" Wood called and McLaggen wasted no time saying "That's you," before she could even move, like she was too stupid to know what people called gingers.

She had too much of being nice so just before she kicked off she turned so she'd run into him. Her knee hurt from hitting him, and she was soon too high to hear if anyone laughed, but at least he landed on his butt. Ginny hoped it hurt.

Oliver Wood was looking down at him when she flew up, only looking up at her when she got close.

"Is there a problem?" he asked seriously, making her fear he'd tell her to leave.

"Just him being a jerk," Ginevra replied, not knowing whether to go for a full Sporty Girl response and say something worse or go for something more girlish and hope it got her out of trouble. Being girlish had got her out of trouble loads of times with her mum and dad but she didn't know how well it'd work at Hogwarts. Wood got a disapproving look and glanced back down at McLaggen, so hopefully it'd count against him instead of her.

"Alright," Wood said, raising the small white ball in one hand, "so this is your target. I'm going to shoot it off with this slingshot," he continued, putting it in the strap of the strange forked wand and pulling it back as if ready to let it fly before relaxing it. "It'll be five shots, and all you have to do is catch it," he finished with a bit of a grin.

"And I've got to close my eyes when you do it, don't I?" she asked, ruining his reveal.

Rather than disappointed though, he seemed impressed.

"Well, you do have to find it first," he said simply.

Ginny nodded and closed her eyes – then opened them and flew over so she was hovering next to him and facing the same way before closing them again. She hadn't seen anyone do this on their turn but it seemed better than having to turn around all the time.

"You ready?" Wood asked.

She nodded, "Ready."

There was a pause and a thwang! and instantly Ginny wanted to open her eyes and take off after it, but this was part of the test.

"Go!" he said after an instant that seemed like forever, and eagerness made her broom scoot forward a bit as she darted her eyes around looking for the ball.

She saw a tiny fleck of movement directly in front of them and took off after it, hoping she was right. The movement kept steady and was starting to head for the ground, so she knew her gamble was right. She laid down as flat as she could against the broom and urged it on as fast as it could go, trying to fly to where the ball was going to be instead of where it was.

The ball came closer and closer, she was halfway to the pitch, and it felt very wrong to take her hand away from the handle. She knew she was going to fall if she did but she had to get the ball. Ginny closed her eyes and grabbed for it – and almost couldn't believe when she felt it in her hand!

She wobbled a bit but kept her seat, banking around and climbing back upwards – her blood pounding in her ears and breath coming in quick pants. She'd done it, and it felt great, but it was still only one of five. Ginny was almost tingling from excitement when she got back to Wood and handed him the ball. It was very difficult to calm down enough to retake her position beside him.

"Ready to go again?" he asked.

All she could do was nod and close her eyes.

There was a longer pause this time and the thwang! was different too. …Wood was taking too long to say 'Go!', wasn't he?

"Go!" he cried from further away, making her eyes pop open and dart directly to him.

He had moved! He'd flown up and to the left to throw her off! Time wasting, she turned, looking everywhere for that hint of movement. She finally saw it up and to her right, he'd shot it over her head!

She darted off after it as fast as she could, the speed making the wind sting her eyes. Thankfully, since Wood had shot it upwards, it was just beginning to dive so she didn't have far to descend to be on the same level it was going to. It was an easier catch, but what was he thinking shooting it like that? She almost didn't see it at all!

Ginny was tempted to try and relax the next time she closed her eyes but she couldn't help thinking it'd be shot behind her next. She almost wished Wood would never say–

"Go!" came from above her, snapping her eyes to the boy now fifty feet above as the white ball came streaking down almost directly at her.

Before she could think she leapt forward only then to remember how far she had to fall! She snatched the ball out of the air and held onto the broom with the other hand as people cried out below. She awkwardly grabbed the broom with the ball-filled hand and eventually managed to hook a leg back over the broom.

"You alright?" Wood asked, coming back down to help her regain her seat.

"You're not playing fair," Ginny said. He hadn't done anything like that to Florence and looked like he knew she was right, though he didn't say anything.

The fourth time waiting for 'Go!' was actually a little soothing, but that could've been just because she was glad to be alive. It seemed to take even longer than before, but she didn't care. Hopefully he'd think of something more normal to do.

Finally she heard the thwang! It was muffled but still beside her, and it was only a moment before he said "Go!"

Eyes sharp, she didn't see anything ahead of her. She looked to the right; nothing there either. Wood was directly to her left so she scooted forward to look around him – and there it was, already making its turn towards the ground.

Ginny made a hard left and went into a dive, starting to hate Oliver Wood. People moving from their spots on the pitch was distracting so she tried to block them out, but they still made it harder to see the ball. She lost it, found it, and lost it again in seconds and almost didn't see it again until she was almost past it.

This time she caught it most of the way to the ground and breathed a sigh of relief that she only had one more to go. Ginny didn't know whether she should face him like the others had this time, just in case he shot the ball that direction but figured it wouldn't make a difference if she did. If he wanted to shoot the ball behind her he'd just fly around until he could and there's nothing she could do about it, so in the end took up the same position as before.

She tried to relax as she closed her eyes and remind herself this was going to get her Chaser. Her mind couldn't stop thinking about all the places he could send the ball next though and her ears seemed to have a mind of their own and strained to hear if he was flying around. Finally she heard the stretch of the flinger's strap being pulled tight and knew this was it…

"Go!" Wood said, and her eyes opened in confusion – she hadn't hear the thwang! She glanced over just in time to see him shoot the ball downward and at steep angle, the thwang! sound almost mocking her.

Ginny shot towards the ground, not waiting for second 'Go!' Wind streamed her hair and people scattered on the pitch, making it harder to see. The ball was coming closer and closer – but so was the ground – so she stretched out her arm as far as she could, only pulling up at the last possible second.

Feet, knees, and hands hit first and the broom went flying. Shoulders, back, hips, elbows, head and butt all got pummeled repeatedly as she tumbled across the pitch and when she stopped there was nothing but grass in front of her. She turned over to see blue sky above.

'Luna's right,' Ginny thought as high thin clouds drifted across to break up the ocean of pale blue. 'It's really quite beautiful.'

She heard footsteps coming closer and glanced over to see her brothers running towards her, so she sat up to show she was okay. She was surprised by how much it hurt but made herself raise her hand to show the ball still clutched in her fist.

"I got it," Ginny said before lowering the arm so it could ache in peace like the rest of her. She was bruised all over but it felt like good bruising, like she'd done her mum and Gwenog Jones proud.

Her brothers seemed happy too, or at least Fred did. He slowed to a walk with a smile and cheered while Harry looked on and Ron shot her a sour look before turning to find where his broom went; he certainly wasn't going to let her use that again. George though didn't stop until he got right up to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked concerned.

"I'm fine," Ginevra replied, though her body begged to differ.

"You sure you don't need to go to the hospital wing?" he asked anyway as he helped her up.

"I said I'm fine," she repeated, refusing to be treated like a baby. "I need to get back up to Wood."

George gave her his broom and watched as she mounted, so she refused to let him see she was hurt. A few others clapped and cheered when she kicked off again, but they'd done the same for the girl and the tower. Wood gave her a smile-and-nod when she gave him back his ball and she briefly thought of telling her brothers to beat him up if he didn't give her Chaser after this.

"McLaggen!" he called, and Ginny made her way down to the ground again so she wouldn't have to hear what the rude boy had to say about her crash. She still had people waiting for her to land though, and they weren't who she thought they'd be.

"That was great!" the red robed Chaser said as her older teammates came to join them.

"It was?" she asked numbly, her hips and arms telling a different story.

"Are you kidding?" the girl asked with an excited grin. "A dive from that high up? And you still caught it?"

"Not to mention walking away afterwards. I'm Alicia," an older Chaser said, offering a hand to shake. "This is Katie and Angelina," she added, gesturing to the younger Chaser and the darker-skinned one.

"Looks like you Weasleys are born Quidditch players," Angelina said approvingly. "You'll make a great Seeker."

"I want to be a Chaser, actually," Ginny said before realizing she just told them she wanted to take one of their spots.

"Why?" Katie asked, like she said something silly. "You're a natural. I've only seen Harry do better once. You remember the one he did last year?" she asked the older two.

"The one where he almost swallowed it?" Alicia asked in return. "Nah, this one was better – because I actually got to see this," she smiled.

'They think I'm better than Harry?' she thought disbelievingly, and trying to picture what it might've looked like to watch it herself. 'Harry did a steep dive too, but he caught it well before he crashed. Did that make it better or worse?'

"You really think so?" Ginny asked instead, starting to wonder if Seeker wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Yeah, not to worry," Alicia said with an almost Fred-like grin, "Wood would have to be mad not to put you on the team – not that he isn't half-mad already – but he'll do anything to win."

The younger one, Katie, clapped her on the shoulder, which would've been reassuring if it weren't so painful.

"Sorry about that," she said when Ginny winced. "I've got some Quidditch Cream in the dorms, I can bring it to you when we get back. It's good for spills like that."

"Thanks," she replied, already feeling bits of her tighten up in knots.

Ginny didn't know what to say afterwards so she stood there while they began discussing McLaggen's tryout. They couldn't decide which shot they were on, two or three, but they got a laugh when Wood sent it sailing off behind him, making him almost miss it. He ended up catching it but the girls didn't think much of him at all.

"Please tell me Wood's not going to put in him on team," Katie pleaded with them. "He'll be insufferable."

"He might not have a choice if he's the best person for a spot," Angelina said apologetically. "And his chances only get better the more serious Oliver becomes about the 'deep well of new talent' he wants."

"But couldn't you get your Dear Oliver to do it for you?" Alicia asked before making kissy noises at her, making everyone but Angelina laugh.

"I don't know why I hang out with you." the other girl said, looking increasingly mortified.

"Because life would be too boring otherwise," she said flippantly before looking back to see how the trying was going. "Oh, look!" she cried, drawing their eyes back upwards.

Ginny had to shade her eyes from the sun to see but it looked like Wood had the ball-flinger pointed almost straight up! There was a streak of white that vanished almost instantly into the sky.

'Who'd ever think of looking up?' she wondered as Wood lowered his arm and must've told McLaggen to go.

The boy looked left and right, but always down towards the pitch, and Ginny couldn't help but search the sky for where it was. How long would it take to fall to the ground when it went straight up? She had no idea.

After several seconds the foul boy must have decided he'd been tricked because he stopped looking for the ball and rounded on Wood. She couldn't hear what they were saying but they had to be arguing – or at least McLaggen was with the way he was gesturing.

"Do you see it?" she asked the Chasers, thinking how funny it'd be if the ball bonked McLaggen on his stupid fat head, though it might give him a second chance to catch it.

"Is… Is that it?" Angelina asked, pointing at something in the sky.

Ginny had to squint to see anything, but sure enough, a second later she saw something falling. The white ball streaked silently by the boys, some fifty feet or so behind McLaggen without him ever noticing. It hit the pitch and bounced away, with at least three people chasing after it.

McLaggen deserved so much more to happen to him but looking stupid in front of everyone was a start. Maybe he'd get so mad he'd storm off and quit Quidditch, or maybe Wood wouldn't let him play at all for fighting with him. Finally they heard something.

"That's not fair. I demand another one!" McLaggen shouted, but Wood was already on his way down to the pitch. "It wasn't fair," he said again when they were on the ground and everyone moved to hear what was going on.

"Neither were Red's and Harry's and you don't hear them complaining," Wood said in return. "You caught four of five, it's perfectly fair."

"You cheated," he pressed as an older boy came running back to return Wood's ball.

"I can't cheat in your tryout," Oliver Wood said with a look. "Only you can cheat in your tryout and the fact you didn't see it means you didn't cheat. Fighting about it won't get you anywhere, so why don't you sit down while I see to the results."

McLaggen pushed his way through the onlookers to hide his shame while Wood walked off to decide their futures. Nobody made a move to leave though, so she guessed now they had to wait. Ginny didn't know how long they'd been here or what time it was, but she was starting to get hungry.

Looking up at the stands, she saw Luna and Colin waving down from a tower. She waved back but nowhere near as vigorously. They then disappeared back over the side and came out onto the field a minute later, leading a flock of others Wood had made stay in the stands.

"Wow, that was wicked!" Colin said, grinning over his camera. "Just vroom–crash!–thud-thud-thud-thud-thud," he said excitedly, miming her hitting the ground and making the hungry feeling slink away uncertainly. "I can't wait to develop the picture."

"You did well at Chaser too," Luna said helpfully, though now that it was over all she could remember was everything that'd gone wrong. "It might have helped you even more if they were hitting Bludgers at you," she added curiously. "You were always good at dodging apples."

"Oh, really? You play at home?" the mousy-haired boy asked, suddenly wanting to know everything again. "Do you have your own hoops, and stands, and bats and things? What's a Snitch look like? Are they really made of gold and silver? How big are they? Are they the size of that golf ball?"

"Alright, listen up!" Wood called out, causing everyone to swarm around him. Ginny was glad to move and not answer Colin's questions because telling him it was just a bunch of apple trees would only make her feel even worse if she didn't make the team.

"We're going for two full teams this year, so thank you all for trying out," he told the crowd now packed in around him and making Ginny's heart leap for a moment; two teams meant six spots for Chaser instead of three – she could definitely do this! "If you're on the second team, it doesn't mean you aren't a good player and doesn't represent whether or not you'll play in a match. The people who'll be playing against the other Houses will be chosen just before each game, so everyone has a shot if you apply yourself."

"Yeah, if you're one of Wood's favorites," she heard a boy mutter, telling her she was somewhere near McLaggen.

"The first team will be with me as Keeper and Captain," Wood said as he began the list of names while the crowd hushed each other quiet. "The Beaters are Fred and George Weasley. The Seeker is Harry Potter…"

Ginny tightened her hands into fists and was practically bouncing with anticipation.

"…with Chasers Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and… Fay Dunbar."

'Fay?!' she thought wildly. 'I was better than Fay; she ran into a tower! And you can't say one team isn't better than the other when all last year's team members are on it,' Ginny fumed grumpily.

She hopped up to try and see over people's heads but it just wasn't working.

"The second team will be under Angelina Johnson as Chaser and Assistant Captain," Wood continued, explaining the one team member from last year being on the Sucky Team as some sort of promotion rather than the insult it was to everyone else.

'If they only wanted people for the Sucky Team they should've just told us,' Ginny grouched to herself. 'And if they were going to give anyone Angelina's old spot, why not me? I had to fly with Florence Fernsby and she was hopeless.'

"The other Chasers are Florence Fernsby and Martin MacQuoid."

'Florence?! Why Florence? She was horrible at Seeker, didn't he see that?' she fumed to herself. 'And who the heck is Martin MacQuoid? I've never even heard of him.'

"The Keeper is Ron Weasley–," Wood continued while Ginny settled into her grouch.

'He really is playing favorites,' she thought sourly. 'Of course he wasn't going to let a first year and people he didn't like–'

"The Beaters are Cormac McLaggen and Kenneth Towler," he added, ruining her thought only to replace it with something worse.

'How could he let McLaggen join the team?' she wondered. 'He's a horrible person, shouldn't even be in Gryffindor, nobody likes him, and he fought with him earlier.'

One thought really weighed her down though: If nobody liked McLaggen, how was Wood playing favorites?

"And Seeker, Ginny Weasley."

Ginny stood there feeling flummoxed. She was Seeker? Why was she Seeker? She was the better Chaser.

"Again, thank you all for–," Wood started to finish, only to be rudely interrupted.

"This is bullshit, Wood," McLaggen said, pushing through the crowd and opening a spot she could slip through to watch. "You only put those twins together because they team up on everyone. I would've taken them in a fair fight."

"It's not a fight, it's a sport," the bigger boy said with obviously strained patience, "and teaming up is what you do on a Quidditch team."

"I still belong on the first team," he challenged stubbornly. "I was the best Keeper that tried out and a better Chaser than Dunbar," he said, echoing Ginny's thoughts.

"You can't play three positions at once, so I put you where I put you," Wood replied.

Inside her head it was like a moving staircase changed places and she got an idea: Maybe Fred was right; maybe she'd been too good at Seeker. She could've been so good that it'd be mad for him to put her as a Chaser and he had to put the others there instead. It wasn't what she wanted, but she was on the team, right?

"And you give the second team to Johnson when I can play everything?" McLaggen asked with a smirk. "I should be Captain of that team."

"I don't have to justify my decisions to you," Wood told him warningly. "Angelina earned her position. If you want to fight about it, take it to McGonagall, because I'm done talking about it."

"Yeah, we'll see what she says," McLaggen muttered mutinously before turning and making people get out of his way so he could stalk away in a huff.

"Again," Wood restarted his closing once the boy was gone, "I want to thank you all for coming. We'll be letting our members know when the first practice is as soon as possible. I hope you all have a good day."

The crowd immediately started breaking up and going their separate ways back to the castle. Ginny saw a red-robed Harry walking off with Ron and Hermione to either side, but not everyone was leaving. She thought for a moment the Chasers and the twins were coming to congratulate her but they all centered on Wood.

"What are we going to do about McLaggen?" Angelina asked directly. "He's going to be an issue."

"I'll talk to McGonagall about it," he replied. "He'll either shape up or he won't."

"Then put him on the first team," George said unexpectedly, making everyone look at him oddly for taking up for McLaggen. "Better to have you there to check him than have him give Angelina a hard time. And McLaggen might be too dumb to see why you put him there but it doesn't mean someone else can't do it," he added, making Ginny wonder what he was talking about.

"You want the second team trained up quick, right?" he continued. "Put me on there and give him my spot. Angelina and I can do a better job without him."

Wood looked at him like there was a hidden trick, then looked over to see what Angelina thought.

"You did say you wanted everyone to help out," she said dubiously.

"Alright, George," Wood agreed, seemingly the only one besides her able to tell the two apart. "You'll be with Angelina then, but she's in charge."

"What do I look like, a troublemaker?" he replied with a falsely offended tone before nodding to Angelina and turning to collect Fred for the trip back. Fred though didn't look like he knew what was going on, and he wasn't the only one.

"I don't know what to think about that," Angelina said finally.

"Well, he's your problem now," Wood grinned. "I've got to go deal with McLaggen," he added before noticing that she was still with them. He nodded at her and said, "Good going, Red," before hefting his broom and departing. He was actually kind of handsome when Ginny thought about it, she could see why Angelina might like him.

The three Chasers congratulated her too as they left and it almost started to feel real. She had tried out for the team and made it. Her brain felt like it was buzzing.

"Congratulations," Luna said, and Ginny turned around to see her blonde friend still with her, Colin at her side.

"Seeker, that's amazing," he smiled. "Think you can do it? You think you can beat Harry?"

That's when she remembered. Harry's birthday was at the end of July, hers wasn't until mid-August. That means–

"I'm the youngest Seeker in a century!" she said breathlessly, almost scared at what it might mean.

"Looks like you'll be famous too then," Luna said, taking everything in stride. "Does that mean I can have an autograph?" she asked. "That way we all have one."

It seemed a silly thing, to want her autograph, but she wasn't going to say no to Luna.

"Here, scrunch up, I'll take a picture," Colin offered, prompting Luna to stand next to her and they put an arm around each other while he readied his camera.

They smiled, the camera flashed, and everything was great. Then she realized something else… She had done all this by herself, and that made it even better. Her bruises didn't even seem to hurt at all anymore.

"I'm going to develop this right away."

.o0O0o.

He and Ron were both very eager to get back to the great hall for a late lunch, before finally making their way to Hagrid's like they'd planned, because now tryouts were over they were hungrier than at any point in their lives. The walk back was certainly different than the walk down had been, though mainly because Ron and Hermione were friends again. At only a couple hours, Harry thought it might be a record.

Hermione held his hand on the way back, and he wasn't the only one feeling very good about himself.

"Keeper," Ron said with a grin. "And here you thought I couldn't do it."

"I'm a big enough person to admit I had you completely wrong," Hermione said, magnanimous in her supposed defeat.

"You reckon we'll have full Quidditch games for practice?" his friend asked, sounding almost as excited as Colin Creevey.

"I dunno," Harry replied, having never thought about it before. "I suppose we could. Might be why he got a whole second team," he shrugged.

When he thought about it, it did make sense. Practices helped, but nothing really prepared you for the real thing. He didn't know what they'd do for Snitches though, if they really were having gold problems from the Sorcerer's Stone or Dumbledore's belt-tightening that is. Another worry he had was Ginny.

He had hoped she'd make friends at Hogwarts and find other things to like besides him, but it's been less than a week. Her tryout said she'd make for a good Seeker – and he was glad for her she made the team – but he didn't know if being rival Seekers on the same team would be good for them or not. It was still uncomfortable to have someone around who fancied him when he already had a girlfriend.

And for all the weird publicity they were getting now they were together, Harry liked having Hermione as his girlfriend. Nothing had really changed about their friendship but it felt like there was 'more' to it too. He felt better when he was with her than he ever had before, and it made the whole world feel lighter somehow.

And, sure, she and Ron were still getting into rows, but they were getting less frequent, less severe, and more easily mended. So with him and Hermione being boyfriend-and-girlfriend and him and Ron being teammates, things seemed to be getting better all around. He should have known things weren't allowed to go too well though because they barely got to the castle's double doors before a voice rang out.

"Hey, Potter!" Draco cried with a smirk. "I heard you almost lost your spot to a first year," he said, horribly twisting everything already. "And where'd you get a broom like that?" he asked scathingly, catching sight of Ron's new broom. "Your dad nick it from someone or did your whole family save up to buy it twig-by-twig?"

Instantly Ron's ears went red.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to try buying their way in," Hermione said sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered as her barb hit close to home.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant "How dare you!" from Ron.

"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" Harry threatened, only for Ron to act first.

Suddenly there was a wand pointed at Malfoy's face, a loud bang, and a jet of green light hitting Draco and sending him reeling backwards onto the entryway floor, drawing several returning Gryffindors' attention. Draco opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap. The sight had Harry burst out in laughter – he didn't even know that one! – while Draco doubled up on all fours, belching large, glistening slugs.

As if on cue, Colin came running in and was now dancing alongside them as they looked down at Malfoy.

"What happened, Harry? What happened?" he asked eagerly, not seeming to want to touch Draco either. "Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?"

Draco gave a huge heave and more slugs dribbled down his front.

"Oooh," a fascinated Colin cried, raising his camera. "Can you hold still?"

Draco obligingly gave another huge heave of slugs as Colin snapped a photo.

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall demanded walking toward them, looking very stern.

"Malfoy called Hermione something," Harry said quickly as more Gryffindors made their way past as they returned from tryouts, hoping he could head off the worst. "It must've been really bad–"

"It was bad," Ron interrupted. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Professor."

Professor McGonagall looked torn but still properly outraged.

"He didn't!" she said, looking at Hermione.

"He did, Professor" she said, "but I don't know what it means."

As if to answer, Draco belched up even more slugs.

"That's enough, Mister Malfoy," McGonagall said as if he'd added anything. "You should make your way to the hospital wing. Mister Creevey, make yourself useful and help him."

Colin quickly helped him to his feet before Draco pushed him away and walked off on his own, belching even more slugs as he went. Colin took one look at Professor McGonagall and hurried after him.

"I could tell it was really rude, of course–," Hermione continued, trying to hold off the inevitable.

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," Ron interjected. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is muggle-born. He just thinks he's better than everyone else because he's what people call pure-blood. It's a disgusting thing to call someone. Dirty blood, see. Common blood."

Harry sneaked a glance at Professor McGonagall but it didn't look like Ron's speech was doing any good.

"It's ridiculous," his friend continued. "The rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out.

"–And look at Neville," Ron said, seemingly intent to go overboard in being friends with Hermione again. "He's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"Not to mention Hermione's the smartest person in school," Harry added, wanting to complement his girlfriend before Ron could, which made her go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"And for this you cursed him?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking disapprovingly over her glasses at him.

"I didn't," he said defensively, though he certainly would have liked to.

"I did," Ron said stubbornly.

"That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times," McGonagall said tersely, shifting her disapproving look to him before letting the hammer fall. "I'm sure you'll regret learning it when you're in detention."

"Me?!" a surprised Ron asked, shocked at how he could've done anything wrong. "Malfoy's the one who said it."

"Which is why he's facing his punishment now in the hospital wing," their professor said, not budging an inch, "and you will be facing yours in detention this evening. No matter what Mister Malfoy said, nothing gives you the right to curse someone for public ridicule," she advised, almost like they were the ones being bullies here.

"And what am I doing, Professor?" Ron asked nervously, obviously wary at how fast the detention was arranged. It usually took them several days to think something up.

"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," McGonagall replied. "And no magic, Weasley – elbow grease."

Ron grimaced. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school, and he loathed them all back.

"And you, Miss Granger," McGonagall went on to say, surprising Harry for a moment until he remembered she'd also received a detention several days ago from Gilderoy Lockhart. "You will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."

Harry was stunned. It was a horrible idea putting those two in the same room together.

"Oh n– Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" Hermione asked desperately.

"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you."

It was hard for Harry to see who got the worse deal.

"Also," she continued, "whatever your disagreements with Professor Lockhart, you are expected to return to his class this coming Monday, no excuses. Failure to do so will result in additional punishment."

Hermione's brow lowered into a scowl.

"I don't expect you two to get along," McGonagall explained, "but he is a Hogwarts professor, whether you like it or not. This means you should both refrain from fighting and keep your disagreements within Hogwarts. Come to me if you have any further problems, is that understood?" she added, spelling an end to their public feud before turning to a new arrival. "Mister Wood, can I see you in my office?"

Harry and Ron led their way back outside, their hunger from before evaporating.

"Filch'll have me there all night," Ron said heavily. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at muggle cleaning."

"I'd swap with you anytime," Hermione said hollowly. "I've had loads of practice at home. But answering Lockhart's fan mail… he'll be a nightmare…"

Across the way Harry saw something which made things even worse. Now he truly didn't know whose day would end up being the worst. With Ron being stuck with Filch, Hermione being locked in with Lockhart, and Lichfield marching up the road towards them, how was he to choose?

"Now what?" he wondered.

.o0O0o.

AN: A couple reviewers have wondered why Hermione received a Detention at the end of the chapter – after all, she was the one insulted, wasn't she? And while, yes, she was insulted by Malfoy, she wasn't being punished for it. She had already been given a Detention several days earlier by Lockhart (see Ch. 39), and McGonagall was there to collect Wood and inform Hermione of what her previously-assigned Detention would entail when she saw Malfoy belching slugs and punished Ron accordingly. I referenced this previous Detention a few times in passing during the chapter but I can see how people could miss it. There's a lot in this story to keep up with, after all.

As always, thanks for reading.