A/N: Alright longest chapter of the book so far coming up! I hope you enjoy it and let me know if you did by leaving a review, giving the story a favorite and a follow!

Chapter 8: The Quidditch Pitch

It was an utterly exhausted Harry who left Dumbledore's office under his father's cloak. It was as though every bone in his body had turned to lead by the time he trudged into the Gryffindor common room. Harry couldn't recall if he'd ever had so long of a day, or if he'd ever felt so excited about the prospect of falling into his bed.

But as he entered through the portrait hole, he spotted a small figure perched by the fireplace, eagerly flipping through a book. Astoria looked up at him, warmly, her eyes now a bright amber. "There you are, Harry!" she said, standing up quickly. "I was hoping you'd come back soon. You said you'd help me with that transfiguration spell, remember?"

Harry shook his head, trying to clear the fog from it. Rubbing his tired eyes, he forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah, of course, Astoria," Harry said, taking a seat beside her. "Alright, let's break this down step by step, okay? The key to transfiguration is focus and intent. You've got to visualize the match changing in your mind before you even raise your wand."

Astoria nodded, her eyes wide with concentration as she followed Harry's lead. Slowly, Harry instructed her to hold the match, to remember how it felt in her hand. Harry saw her bucked a bit at his suggestion to sniff the match, and possibly even taste it, if she thought it would help, but did it after being told he wasn't joking.

Taking the match from her, Harry tapped it with his wand, effortlessly transforming it into a needle. "Now compartmentalize those sensations you felt with the matchstick in your mind, and do the same with this needle, but no, you don't need to actually put this needle in your mouth. Just really try to visualize it in your head. You need to be able to see it in your mind's eyes as if it were right in front of you."

"I see it," Astoria said, shutting her eyes tight. "I actually think I see it."

"Good," Harry said, quickly turning the needle back into a match. "Alright, the match is ready, so it's all you."

With her eyes still shut and brow tightly furrowed, Astoria raised her wand. Harry took it, leveling it with the matchstick. Slowly, Harry watched as the matchstick began to wobble, a mist forming around it. The shaking continued, growing stronger before, with a pop it morphed into a slender silver needle.

"I did it!" Astoria said, her face lighting up with excitement.

Harry grinned, giving her a congratulatory pat on the back. "See? I told you you'd get it. Well done, Astoria!"

Astoria beamed at wrapping him in a hug, before quickly releasing him. "Sorry, are you a hug person? Daphne told me I should probably ask people that before I do it."

"Not all together bad advice," Harry grinned. "But don't worry, I'm not opposed to hugs." Harry ruffled Astoria's choppy black hair as she picked up her needle, amazed at her work. "I'm proud of you Short Stack," Harry yawned, "But between you and me, I feel about ready to collapse here. I'm beyond tired."

Harry hadn't even managed to make it across the common room to the staircase before finding himself flanked on both sides by either of the Weasley Twins, their arms casually slung over each other's shoulders as they looked down at him.

"So, Harry," Fred began, his grin widening, "we couldn't help but hear a rumor that you've got yourself a broom up in your dorm."

George nodded enthusiastically. "Thinking of trying out for the team, are you?"

Harry smirked, feeling a spark of excitement. "Yeah, I am."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "And what position might you be going for?"

"Seeker," Harry replied, watching as both twins' eyes lit up with excitement.

"Seeker!" George exclaimed. "Blimey, that's brilliant!"

Fred clapped Harry on the back. "You know, we haven't had a decent Seeker since Charlie left. If you can be half as good as he was, we might really have a chance at winning the cup this year."

"It's been mostly Slytherin's trophy to lose since Charlie graduated," George sighed, "But Hufflepuff was on track to knock them off last year, before, well-"

A solemn silence fell between them, and Harry saw an unmistakable pang of agony behind the eyes of both the twins. "But uh-" Fred said, clearing his throat. "We just wanted to let you know that tryouts are in two weeks."

"Yeah," George said, forcing himself to smile. "And you better be ready. Because we expect great things from one of our official proteges."

"Don't worry," Harry replied confidently. "I'll be ready."

It was another yawn from Harry that sent the twins off, letting him finally climb the stairs to the third-year dormitory. Harry wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and drift off to sleep, but the sight that met him as the door opened was anything but restful.

Held in mid-air, hissing and slashing with outstretched claws was Loki. Ron, whose arms were covered in scratches, seemed to be trying desperately to get Loki off of him, with middling results. "Potter!" Ron shouted. "Come get your crazy cat!"

Harry rushed to Ron, wrapping his hands around Loki's center and pulling him off. "Bad Loki!" Harry hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"
Ron scowled. "Your pet—Loki—tried to eat Scabbers earlier."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Scabbers! My Rat!" Ron shouted.

"You can bring rats to Hogwarts?" Harry said, still puzzled.

"Mind your own business, Potter." Ron spat. "And keep a handle on your cat! Scabbers is old, and I don't want him ending up as cat food."

"You know what Ron, you're right." Harry agreed. "I'm sorry. I'll keep a better eye on him, I promise."

"Yeah, whatever," Ron huffed.

Harry looked sternly at Loki as he placed him on his bed. "I know you're part Kneazle and can understand me, so listen to me. You leave that rat alone, okay." Loki meowed loudly in frustration, but Harry continued. "You can hunt literally any other rat in the castle, just leave Scabbers alone, okay?"

If possible, Harry could've sworn he heard Loki grumble before he slunk down from the mattress, and found his chosen place under Harry's bed. Tired and unable to think of doing anything else, Harry collapsed into his bed. He was just about to close his eyes when he heard the shimmying of a trunk from beneath Ron's. Harry rolled, giving himself a few of Ron as the red-headed boy pulled loose the handle of an old Cleansweep Three. Harry watched through wilting eyes as Ron meticulously polished the broom's shaft and trimmed the bristles.

Guess he's preparing for the tryouts too... so even returning players have to tryout. Harry thought, rolling back onto his stomach. I wonder if he's any good? Despite his exhaustion, the thought of the tryouts had sent a bolt of manic anticipation through him. May the best flyers win, I suppose.

It was strange how quickly Harry had found himself adapting to his new life. The first day had been a slog, but since then, Harry had found himself enjoying life at Hogwarts.

He'd wake every morning bright and early, and go for a run around the Hogwarts grounds, which would then lead into a practice of form in which he practiced his wand work, allowing him to effortlessly move from one spell into another. It was harder, given he had no place outside of the occasional exhibition practice in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where he could set loose his spells, but Harry took any practice he could get.

There were only three areas in which Harry found anything to truly complain about. The first was potions. He'd been marked as nothing higher than acceptable on all of his concoctions, despite Slughorn stating they were all deserving of at least an exceeds expectations back when Harry had shown it to him a few years back.

The second was the lack of progress made in his lesson with Dumbledore. True to his word, the man had been a patient teacher, but Harry was beginning to worry if he was starting to stretch even Dumbledore's patience thin, as after four lessons, Harry had not so much as managed to slow Dumbledore's attempt to access his mind for longer than four seconds.

And the third, was the lack of progress made on the wooing of Daphne Greengrass. In an effort to keep himself as distant from any Draco-isms, as he and Michael had grown to calling them, he hadn't written any of his many rejections in his most recent letter to Sirius, but couldn't deny that a part of him was genuinely beginning to want to ask for his help on the matter.

Harry had found this weekend a particularly productive one, as Astoria had decided to sleep in. She'd become something like his shadow these past two weeks, and while Harry enjoyed her company immensely, it made the nature of his training a bit less focused. Harry's newest form progression, a movement that combined the body-bind curse effortlessly into the blasting one was coming along, but it was the practice of his Patronus Charm that continued to elude him.

It was only when Harry was actively searching for a memory, did he find himself unable to recall one, as when Sirius had sent him a letter reminding him of a birthday party of a muggle from a few years back, Harry could recall it without hesitation.

Harry's knees buckled beneath him, causing him to stumble just as he worked through his hundredth repetition of a movement that chained the knockback jinx and bombardment spell together, and allowed his body to sink against a tree. Breathing heavily, Harry turned his attention to the Black Lake. Despite the quickly approaching chill in the air, Harry contemplated the idea of going for a swim, and it didn't seem as though he were the only one.

Already knee-deep in the lake was a slightly chubby boy around his age with sandy blond hair and a round, oval-shaped face. He'd recognized the boy from his herbology class, a third-year student by the name of Neville Longbottom. Neville's sleeves were rolled far past his elbows, and Harry watched as Neville plunged his fists into the water, pulling loose clumps of weeds and roots with glee from the silt below.

I guess we all have our things, Harry thought leaning against the tree, his mind trying to catalog his list of assignments. A loud gasp came from Neville's direction, and Harry turned his head toward the lake seeing nothing but a hand sinking with a desperate wave.

Well it looks like I am going swimming, Harry thought, racing towards the water. Harry tried to scan the water surface, moving his wand to his mouth to free his hands. After sucking in as much air as he could, Harry jumped, plunging into the water, his skin prickling as if he were being stuck by a thousand needles.

Kicking hard, it hadn't taken Harry long to see the form of Neville Longbottom being dragged down by a horde of viscous sickly green creatures with sharp little horns. Great. Grindylows.

Seemingly spotting Harry, they stopped swimming and flashed him a toothy, predatory smile. Harry pulled his wand from his mouth, pointing it at the horde with a hardened stare. In a flash, the grindylows darted toward him. "Depulso!" Harry said, his voice nothing but gurgles beneath the water, though the force had still sprung out from his wand.

"Accio, shirt!" Harry gurgled out again, his wand pointed at Neville. His shirt twitched, dragging him the body of the boy it covered up with it as it inched toward Harry's wand. Harry gasped, his final bubble of air leaving his lung from a surprise bite from the first of the grindylows to return.

Harry reached out, clutching Neville just as another Grindylow bit into his calf. There is no way I'm dying because of a bunch of stupid little sea creatures.

Pointing his wand back in their direction, his free arm wrapped around Neville's shoulder, Harry forced out another banishing charm with all his remaining strength. Instantly, Harry found himself soaring out of the water and breaking the surface with a gasp.

Doing his best to ignore the blood that was spreading into the water from his bites, Harry kicked hard, dragging an unconscious Neville to the shore. He'd never really considered how sharp Grindylow teeth were before, but whatever he'd thought, he'd learned he was wrong about the amount of pain they could cause.

With Neville safely out of the water, Harry dropped to his knees, trying to shake Neville awake. "Come on, Neville!" Harry gasped out. "Time to wake up, man."

Hurried footsteps were now racing down the hill. Harry looked up to see a tall older-boy with bright gray eyes, neatly combed dark-hair, and a face that Harry was not too proud to admit looked like it belonged to a muggle moviestar. The student's wand was out, though not pointed at Harry, but at Neville as he slid into position beside the two boys.

"What happened?" The older boy said, checking Neville's neck for a pulse.

"Grindylows," Harry gasped out, still trying to catch his breath. "Saw Neville, get dragged, by Grindylows." Harry paused, allowing himself a deep inhale before continuing. "Jumped in to save him. Is he alright?"

The older boy pointed his wand to Neville's chest and traced it slowly up to his neck and to the tip of his lips. Harry watched as the older boy turned Neville on his side before clapping him once hard on the back. Neville gasped, the lake water pouring out of his mouth like a faucet before he too tried to collect himself in ragged breaths.

"Where am I?" He asked shakily. "Am I dead?"

"No, you're not dead," the older boy said, sighing with relief. "Though you might have been if Potter here hadn't dived in after you."

Harry saw the older boy drop his shoulders and shake his head. "Honestly, Neville. How many times have I warned you about that lake? It's dangerous."

"I know, Cedric," Neville said. "I really was trying to be careful, they just, well they snuck up on me."

"It's okay, Neville," Cedric said, standing and offering Neville a hand. "But you should probably head to the hospital wing." Cedric's eyes fell on Harry. "The both of you. Those bites don't look so good, Potter."

"They don't feel great either, in case you were wondering," Harry said, trying to go for a smile.

"Can you walk?" Cedric asked.

Harry stood, and tried to move, finding it was more of a serviceable limp than a stride. "Yeah," Harry said determinedly. "I can manage."

"At the speed you're going, you'll bleed out before you reach the hospital wing." Cedric ducked down to Harry's height, and Harry felt Cedric move his arm over his shoulder. "Come on, let's get a move on. I'm sure Pomfrey can check you over quickly, Neville and I don't think it's going to take her more than a few minutes to patch you up, Potter. You'll still probably be good for tryouts today."

"You heard that I was trying out?" Harry questioned, the three of them now limping toward the great oak door of the castle.

"The whole school has heard about it thanks to Fred and George," Cedric laughed. "The famous Harry Potter trying out for a Quidditch team, well that's a must see attraction as far as I'm concerned."

"Plus, I hear you're going out for seeker," Cedric said, leading Harry up the first set of stairs. "I might even have to stop by and scout my competition. I just became the Hufflepuff's Team Captain myself."

The talk of the upcoming Quidditch season did a lot to distract Harry from the throbbing in his leg as the two climbed the many sets of steps to the hospital wing. Harry was almost embarrassed by how much he'd sweat from the climb, but Cedric made no note of it, simply pushing the door open, and holding it for him as both Harry and Neville shuffled inside.

The hospital wing was a long, whitewashed room with rows of neatly made beds, each one flanked by a small bedside table. The air was filled with the potent, sterile smell of various potions and disinfectants. As Harry limped in alongside Cedric and Neville, his eyes were immediately drawn to a figure moving gracefully between the beds. Daphne Greengrass. She was carefully applying ointment to a first-year Ravenclaw's face, which had erupted in a swarm of boils and whose fingernails seemed to be growing by the second.

Madam Pomfrey nodded to her in approval, and Harry's heart almost stopped at seeing a genuine smile cross Daphne's face. It was one of the most beautiful things Harry had ever seen, though it vanished just as quickly as it appeared when she made eye contact with him.

Madam Pomfrey, whose sharp green eyes were already tracing both Harry and Neville from head to toe, raced over, adjusting her streaky gray hair behind her bonnet, straightening her white robes, and spoke quickly. "What happened to you too, and why are you so wet?"

Madam Pomfrey dried both of them with a wave of her wand, and stared expectantly for someone to begin speaking. Cedric, still holding Harry by the arm, explained quickly to Madam Pomfrey about the Grindylows and how Harry had dived into the lake to rescue Neville. Pomfrey's eyes hardened to nearly the point of stones as she listened attentively, bending slightly to examine Harry's leg.

"Swimming in the Black Lake at this time of year. Foolish," Madam Pomfrey huffed. "Grindylows though, that's good. It could be worse."

Madam Pomfrey straightened herself and pointed Harry and Neville in the direction of two hospital beds across from each other near the end of the wing. "You'll be right as rain in no time, Potter. And Longbottom—honestly, if you could do me a favor and at least try your best not to end up in my care so frequently I'm sure both myself and your grandmother would greatly appreciate it."

She waved Cedric off with a small smile. "Thank you for bringing them both in, Mr. Diggory. You're free to go."

Cedric gave Harry a reassuring nod before heading toward the door. "Good luck at tryouts, Potter. And do us all a favor—try not to get into any more scrapes."

"I promise you that is my intention," Harry replied with a grin, causing Cedric to chuckle and shake his head before walking out of the room.

Madam Pomfrey looked around, her eyes settling on Daphne Greengrass, who was diligently working on organizing some bandages and vials. "Ms. Greengrass, see to Mr. Potter's wounds. Close them up properly. I believe you've seen me do the procedure enough, and be sure to provide him with a disinfecting salve."

Daphne, who had clearly been minding her own business, let out a quiet sigh but walked over to Harry's bed without protest. Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning stupidly as she began to rummage through the drawers of his bed's bedside table, pulling loose a silver tin of a golden, lotion-like substance.

"Right," she said simply, placing the tin in Harry's hand and pulling out her wand. "This won't take long. Start by rubbing that into anywhere that you got bit. It'll sting for a bit, but it'll make sure any diseases the Grindylows were carrying won't affect you after I close your wound."

Harry did so, fighting back a painful groan as he applied the lotion to his leg, the pant leg of his sweatpants rolled up to his knee. Harry wondered if Daphne had understated the stinging sensation, but didn't want to make a scene of the burning that was spreading through his leg.

"Good," Daphne nodded. "And without a sound too, very impressive. Now roll-over, will you?"

"Yes ma'am," Harry said, trying to smile despite the burning surrounding his already throbbing wounds. Daphne felt around his leg muscle, massaging it slowly. "Lucky me." Harry said, "Getting the best care Hogwarts has to offer."

Daphne didn't even look at him, her focus solely on the wound on his leg. "Hold still, or I'll make it worse."

"Wouldn't dream of moving," Harry replied, watching as she waved her wand, muttering a few incantations under her breath. Gradually, Harry could feel his skin closing back up, his wounds healing and the pain subsiding. "Oh wow," Harry said, his voice brimming with genuine relief. "You really are good at this."

"I'd hope so," Daphne huffed. "It's just closing wounds."

"No seriously," Harry said, turning back to face her. "I hardly even felt that." Daphne cocked an eyebrow at him, taking the tin from his hand and placing it back in the cabinet.

"I guess you're working with Madam Pomfrey because you want to work at St. Mungo's or something, right?"

"I have bigger goals than simply working at a hospital," Daphne replied swiftly.

"Oh yeah, and what's that?" Harry asked.

"None of your business really," Daphne shrugged. "Sit for a while until the burning sensation dies out completely, then you'll be free to go."

He was about to ask more when Malachi Fensoul, the castle's new guest, suddenly entered the wing, holding a tray of various healing potions. Fensoul was a thin man with a wiry frame. His hair was a neat ponytail of long silver strands and his eyes gleamed like those of a young man's despite being encased in a face that looked older than time.

"Miss Greengrass," Fensoul said in his deep, melodic voice. "Do you know where Madam Pomfrey likes to store her salves for burns and shrinking solutions?"

Daphne glanced up briefly. "By the cabinet, thank you, Mr. Fensoul."

Fensoul nodded, placing the potions down carefully. He opened the cabinet and slowly began organizing the freshly brewed remedies.

Daphne's eyes drifted back to Harry's leg, rubbing her fingers against the sealed wounds. "You're looking okay, I suggest you get a move on. The salve shouldn't be burning by now, and I imagine you'll want to warm up before the tryouts officially start."

Harry grinned, shifting slightly. "You know, Princess, I'd feel even better if you were out there cheering me on."

Daphne snorted, the first sign of amusement she'd shown during the entire conversation. "Please. I have a million things I'd rather do than watch you on a broom, flyboy."

"Flyboy?" Harry repeated, laughing. "That's a new one."

"Well, it fits," Daphne said, pinching the bridge of her nose as if trying to ward off a headache. "Besides, with the sea of fan girls you're bound to have out there, I doubt you'll miss my absence."

"Oh, great," Harry groaned and rolled his eyes. "How delightful."

"I thought it was every boy's dream to have a flock of girls fighting for his attention," Daphne said, her eyes darting from Harry toward the window.

"Don't get me wrong," Harry said, "It's nice never having to worry about finding a date, but considering I'm interested in you, it doesn't really do much for me."

"My condolences," Daphne said wryly.

Rising to his feet, Harry stretched his legs. "Plus, to tell you the truth, I'm not all that interested in a girl who just likes me because I'm famous. Guess that's why I'm so into you."

"Is that so?" Daphne asked, her eyes locked on his. "Well, Potter, let me do you a favor. Just to help clear your mind. I'm not all that interesting, so go ahead and free up whatever space I've occupied in that thick head of yours. I can promise you that much."

"I doubt it, Princess." Harry said, now stretching his arms. "You're nothing but interesting. Maybe one day we can actually get to know each other."

"I wouldn't hold your breath, Potter," Daphne chuckled.

"I've got some pretty strong lungs," Harry replied with a crooked grin before taking a step closer to the blond. "The year is still young. There's still plenty of time for you to fall helplessly in love with me."

Daphne laughed, a sincere, beautiful laugh that sounded like music to Harry. "Not a chance, Potter. Not a chance." Harry opened his mouth again, only for Daphne to turn her back to him. "You're wasting time. You should make your way out to the pitch."

"Right," Harry nodded, brushing past her.

"And Potter," Daphne called after him.

Harry spun, an expectant smile on his face, but Daphne had turned her back to him again as if to taunt him. "Try not to end up back here again. You bother me enough in class. I don't need you doing it here too."

Harry shook his head. "Ice cold, Princess. Ice cold."

Harry was buzzing as he rushed up to the Gryffindor common room to grab his broom. He'd spent more time at the Hospital Wing then he'd intended, but he couldn't say it had been all together a bad experience. Stepping quickly through the portrait hole , Harry found himself met by Astoria, her eyes wide with worry.

"There you are!" Astoria cried. "Everyone's starting to head down to the pitch. Everyone was trying to find you, but nobody knew where you were. Ron said you'd probably chickened out and went to hide in a classroom somewhere, since your broom was still here."

"Oh I was just in the hospital wing," Harry said, easily as he stepped closer to the stairs leading to the boy's dormitory.

"The hospital wing?" Astoria questioned. "Why?"

"Was on a date with your sister, obviously," Harry said with a smile, before dashing up the stairs, amused by the bewildered look on Astoria's face.

Astoria was waiting for Harry as he rushed down the stairs, his broom draped over his shoulder. Harry sped off, determined to make it to the pitch in time to fly a few practice laps before the real tryouts began and found that Astoria had followed him out of the common room.

Racing to beat the clock, Harry hurried through the corridors, weaving effortlessly between the few students he came across in the hallways. I guess Cedric was right. Harry thought, slipping past a rather stressed-out looking first-year Ravenclaw. It's like almost the whole school's gone to see Gryffindor's Tryout.

"Will you please slow down a bit," Astoria called out from behind him.

"Nope," Harry replied without looking back. "You gotta pick up the pace, Short Stack. I'm not trying to be later than I already am."

Harry could almost see Astoria's eyes roll through the back of his head. The cool September air was now brushing his face as he made his way closer and closer to the castle's large wooden doors, before three figures stepped into his path blocking the way. A thin, sharp-faced boy, flanked by two others larger than Harry by at least a head and nearly three times as wide, their fists drilled into one of their palms.

"Well, well, if it isn't Potter, running off to impress the school with your flying tricks. Got your little girlfriend in tow, I see." Came the familiar droll of Draco Malfoy. "Honestly Astoria, have some shame. A pure-blooded Greengrass reduced to Potter's shadow. It's humiliating. I see why the hat didn't put you in Slytherin."

Harry's expression darkened, and he instinctively moved to push past Draco, but Malfoy stepped into his path again, his eyes darting between Harry and Astoria. "I'll tell you what, Potter. Since this Greengrass likes you so much, I'll let you have her, and you leave the older one to me."

"What are you talking about?" Astoria hissed.

"Please, spare me this charade, you know good and well what I'm talking about," Draco said, sneering down at Astoria. "You might even be thicker than your sister. Though it's a high bar to clear. Daphne's clearly not half as smart as I thought she was. For her to think herself better than me and to not realize how much her losing this whole prissy-complex of her could stand to benefit her family, it's truly maddening."

Harry tensed, his jaw clenching as he stared down Malfoy. Harry opened his mouth, but it was Astoria who spoke first. "Daphne's a lot smarter than you, Draco, and the fact that she's decided to steer clear of you is probably the smartest thing she's ever done. She deserves way better than some idiot like you and as a matter of fact, when it comes to my family, well," Astoria's voice faltered for a second, her fist clenched tightly into trembling balls. "W-We're doing just fine on our own."

Draco's sneer twisted into something uglier, his eyes narrowing at Astoria's defiance. "That so? That's not the way I've heard it from my father. The Greengrass family chose to stay out of it the first time around. Big mistake. The families with influence, we remember. We know where everyone stood last time, and there are consequences for those choices. I'm just trying to offer Daphne, and your family, a helping hand. After all, our families have known each other for sometime now."

Astoria glared at him. "My sister doesn't owe you anything."

"Oh, she does," Draco said harshly. "She just doesn't realize it yet. My family is the only one that can bring the Greengrass name out from obscurity and help it regain its place amongst the honored wizarding families of the sacred twenty-eight." Harry felt Draco's eyes fall upon him before he continued. "Right now she thinks playing hard to get is strategic, but I'm starting to think she just needs a reminder of what the right choice in her situation is, and of course, less distractions, right, Potter?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Harry said, taking another step forward. "But I've got places to be and not enough time to deal with your stupidity. So, I'll make this quick, you're going to stop talking about Daphne like that in front of me, or you're going to lose some teeth."

Draco's sneer deepened. "I can talk about her how I want. She and I have a history, Potter. So I suggest you stay out of it and away from her." Draco's eyes had sharpened even further. "Frankly, I'm sick of hearing her talk about you in the common room with that Davis girl. It makes me sick. Last night, I even heard her call you-"

Draco stopped himself, his face twisting as if the thought alone was sickening. Harry grinned. "So she talks about me to her friends, does she?"

"Nevermind that." Draco replied quickly, cracking his knuckles in an attempt to make himself seem more imposing between his two goons. "I'm simply here to give you some advice, Potter. You better back off her and remember your place in the pecking order. She's a pureblood, and you're the half-blood son of a filthy blood-traitor father and a dirty mudblood mo-"

Crack! Fast as lightning, Harry's fist connected with Draco's nose, sending the Slytherin crumpling to the floor. Blood poured from Draco's face as he held his nose, wide-eyed with disbelief.

"You!" Draco cried out. "You'll pay for that! Crabbe! Goyle! Get him!"

"Don't move." Harry growled, his eyes flashing quickly between the two lumbering boys.

To even Harry's surprise, the two boys flinched. For a moment, they stared blankly into the distance before their noses began to trickle out blood just as Draco's had. Their eyes widened with confusion, as they swayed from side to side as if no longer in control of their bodies. Then, a moment later, they fell to the ground beside Draco.

"W-what did you do?" Draco said his voice trembling, his glance switching quickly between the knocked out Crabbe and Goyle. "How did you-"

"Get out of my way, Malfoy." Harry muttered.

Malfoy slowly rose and shuffled himself out of Harry's sight. "Y-You'll pay for that, Potter! My father will h-hear about this!" Draco cried out.

"Good," Harry replied, his voice cold as ice. "And while you're at it, tell him I'll be keeping a close watch on the whole of the Malfoys. I know your family never really changed sides. And when the time comes, I'll be there to make sure your lot ends up in Azkaban right where they belong."

Harry had stepped out onto the grounds without another look back. Hearing only the fading echoes of Malfoy as he darted up to the hospital wing. That ought to be a surprise for Daphne, Harry thought to himself.

Astoria, who'd now caught up with him, kept looking at him expectantly, and Harry sighed. "Let me guess, you want to know what I did to Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Kind of," Astoria nodded.

"Truthfully, I have no idea what I did." Harry admitted, running a hand through his messy hair. "I got very mad and then it just... happened."

Astoria's lips pressed into a thin line and Harry watched as she turned her attention back to the door and the unconscious forms of the two large boys. After a moment of silence, Harry cleared his throat. "Is it true that your family stayed neutral during the war against Voldemort?"

Astoria winced slightly. Right, I forgot about that, Harry thought, but waited, sneaking glances at Astoria as they moved a little faster across the grounds. "Yeah, it's true. My father didn't want to take sides. He... well, he's not the most open-minded or kind man, but he's not stupid either. He thought it'd be smarter to stay out of it rather than betting on Dumbledore losing."

"Smart bet," Harry nodded. "What about you and Daphne, do you two buy any of that pure-blood ideology?"

"Does it look like I care about that?" Astoria asked in exasperation. "Or that Daphne does? I mean, her best friend is a half-blood. And not like half-blood because her parents are two half-blood wizards, her mom was a muggle."

"Alright, alright," Harry said, holding up a hand in surrender. "I was just asking." Harry nodded, the faintest grin forming across his lips. "Well, I'm glad you and Daphne aren't like some of the other pure-bloods in Slytherin. Makes the whole prospect of getting a date with your sister a bit easier."

Astoria snorted, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Best of luck with that, Harry. Really, I'm rooting for you."

"Ah the sister-endorsement," Harry laughed. "That's gotta count for something, right?"

"Don't hold your breath," Astoria said.

"Surprisingly," Harry said, giving her a wink as they stopped at the threshold of the Quidditch pitch, "that is not the first time I've heard that today."

Harry's eyes widened the moment he stepped onto the Quidditch pitch. The towering stands that circled the field were packed with students, their excited chatter and laughter echoing across the pitch. Bright banners in Gryffindor red and gold flapped in the wind, and the gleaming golden hoops stood tall at each end of the field, casting long shadows on the grass below.

The air buzzed with anticipation as students milled around, some watching eagerly from the stands, others talking amongst themselves. For a moment, Harry's heart thudded a little faster. It was one thing to practice flying on his own, but he'd never seen anything like this before. His body trembled with excitement. I can't wait to start.

As he made his way toward the pitch, broom in hand, Harry felt a familiar presence flank him on either side. He didn't even have to look to know that Fred and George had materialized beside him, their usual grins plastered on their faces.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up," Fred said with a sly grin, elbowing Harry lightly. "Thought for a second you might've gotten cold feet, Potter."

"Good thing you didn't though," George added. "It would've been a shame to miss out on watching you fly."

Harry grinned, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'm here. Wouldn't miss it."

"We're glad to have you," Fred said, his tone genuine. "But, just so you know... we can't exactly root for you."

"Not openly, at least," George clarified. "See, our little brother Ron is also competing for Seeker."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I figured."

Fred sighed , "Yep. So, while we think you've got a shot, we're gonna have to keep our cheers a bit... neutral, if you catch our drift."

"Wouldn't want to hurt ickle Ronniekins' feelings," George said with a mock-serious expression.

Harry chuckled. "Got it. I'll just have to impress without your fanfair."

"Exactly," Fred replied, clapping him on the back.

As they walked further onto the pitch, Fred and George guided Harry toward a group of players already waiting near the center. Harry's eyes scanned the group, recognizing some faces from his time in the common room or in the Great Hall, but others he hadn't formally met yet. Fred gestured to them in turn.

"Allow us to introduce you to the rest of the Gryffindor team," Fred said, his voice adopting a dramatic flair. "Starting with our fearless leader, the one and only Oliver Wood."

Oliver Wood, a tall and muscular boy with an intense expression, nodded to Harry, his broomstick slung casually over his shoulder. "Potter, right? Heard you feel pretty confident on that broom of yours. We'll see what you've got soon enough."

"Next up, we've got Katie Bell," George continued, gesturing to a girl with long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. She smiled brightly at Harry.

"Hi, Harry," Katie said. "Looking forward to seeing you fly."

"And here we have Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson," Fred added, pointing to two girls standing side by side. Alicia, with short brown hair, gave Harry a nod, while Angelina, taller with dark braids, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Fred and George say you think you're a pretty good flyer," Angelina said, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "If you're half as good as you think, that'll be a treat. We've got a Cup to win this year."

Harry nodded, his grip tightening on his broomstick.

"And finally, of course, you already know us," George said, gesturing between himself and Fred. "The most handsome Beaters Gryffindor's ever seen."

Fred puffed out his chest dramatically. "Naturally."

"Oh," George said, "And I guess, Ron's technically on the team too. But..."

"Right, yeah," Harry said, cutting George off. "I got it."

Harry shook his head, clearing his thoughts as he saw Oliver Wood call the pitch to attention with a clap of his hands. Alright, let's get started. I told the team everyone's position is up for grabs this year. We want to put forward the best team we can. I'm not leaving Hogwarts without a trophy, and damn it, this is my last chance."

"Fred! George!" Oliver shouted. "You two, up in the air, we're starting with Beaters first."

Harry watched as Fred and George exchanged a glance, giving Wood a salute before soaring up into the air.

"Alright, you lot!" Oliver shouted to the crowd of gathered hopefuls waiting on the ground. "If you want to be a beater, grab your bat and mount your brooms!"

The other Beater candidates mounted their brooms and took off, though Fred and George were quick to take charge, their bats ready as Oliver released the Bludgers. The iron balls shot into the air, spinning violently toward the nearest player, and Harry could see instantly why Fred and George were held in such high regard. They swung their bats with precision, knocking the Bludgers effortlessly into the path of their challengers, thinning the pool of hopefuls one after the other until the pitch was littered with disappointed and aching flyers.

"Guess they made it back," Angelina whispered to Wood who was smiling brightly up at the two redheads.

"Like there was ever a doubt," Wood said with a confident nod. "But you three are up next," Wood said, pointing to the current trio of chasers. "You'll face me at my best."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," beamed Katie as the three girls flew into the air.

"We'll assess the chasers like this," Wood called. "I'll send you up in teams of three, you try to score as many points on me as you can. Your time is up once I've successfully stopped five of your attempts. Do you understand?"

The hopeful chasers nodded eagerly as Wood kicked off on his broom and did a loop through the hoops. "Alright ladies, let's see what you're made of!"

At Wood's whistle, Harry watched in sheer amazement as the three girls pushed their brooms into a blitz of speed. Katie Bell took the Quaffle first, weaving gracefully between her teammates. Angelina Johnson flew to her left, with Alicia Spinnet hanging back, ready for a backward pass.

Katie passed the Quaffle to Alicia, who then expertly flipped it to Angelina just as Oliver Wood swooped in to block. The Quaffle sailed past his outstretched arm, and the chasers earned their first point. The stands erupted in cheers, Gryffindors shouting their encouragement as the trio demonstrated their skill.

"They're brilliant," Harry muttered, watching them with growing admiration. The girls moved with such fluidity, their teamwork honed from years of playing together. It was clear no one else on the pitch could match their chemistry.

Beside him, Fred and George grinned. "Best Chasers in the school, if you ask me," Fred said proudly.

"No competition there," George added. "But starting with them is rough. Wood's good, but based on his rules, we might be here a while until the hopefuls get their chance."

The twins had been correct, and as the trio had come across their twentieth goal, most of the wannabe chasers had cleared the field deeming the matter hopeless. Harry could have sworn an hour had passed by the time Wood had stopped the fifth goal, and the four of them descended, dripping in sweat.

"Do we have any other challengers," Oliver wheezed into the crowd, trying to project with what air remained in his lungs.

Nobody raised their hands and Alicia huffed triumphantly, "Thought so."

"Well," Oliver huffed. "Guess that just leaves us with Seeker left."

"This one will be easy to figure out." Oliver moved to the chest that had contained the bludgers and placed the quaffle back into place, returning to the center of the pitch, with his fist close tightly.

"In my hand, I'm holding three snitches," Oliver instructed. "First Seeker to bring me two of them gets the spot. Clear?"

"Crystal," Harry replied in the flurry of voices.

"Good, now, mount your brooms."

Harry mounted his broom, his heart pounding in his chest. Thunderous applause erupted in the stadium as Harry kicked off the ground at Wood's whistle and soared through the air. Gotta admire their commitment to sit here this whole time, Harry thought, doing a lap around the pitch and seeing the sea of blurred faces, from every house all tracking his movement.

Warmed up, Harry hovered low, his eyes subconsciously flickering to the twins who were giving him a silent thumbs up. Harry grinned, his fingers twitching around his broomstick as Oliver ascended in the middle of the pitch, his balled fist held in the air.

"On my count!" Oliver shouted. "Three... two... one!"

He opened his hand, and the snitches shot into the air, their wings buzzing rapidly as they darted in different directions. Harry shot forward, his Air Wave Gold broom responding to his every command as he soared above the other seekers. His eyes scanned the pitch like he were a manic dog in search of a ball, searching for the faintest shimmer of gold.

The other seekers had spread out, their heads all swiveling from side to side. Weaving past two fifth-years, Harry was surprised the two hadn't reacted to the first snitch that had just flown past them. The crowd erupted into cheers as he picked up speed, and from the stands, Harry could hear the voices of a few students he'd unfortunately become familiar with calling his name.

"Go Harry! You've got this!" Romilda Vane shouted, her voice cutting through the noise. "I'm your biggest fan!"

"He's so dreamy when he flies," gushed Lavender Brown to Parvati Patil, the pair waving wildly in Harry's direction.

"Look at him go!" Parvati exclaimed, leaning forward with wide eyes. "He's so… yummy."

Harry shivered slightly. Gross. Though he quickly pushed the thought aside, his focus returned solely to the snitch soaring across the pitch. The snitch had changed direction on a dime and to his right, a glint of gold flickered near the stands. Harry leaned forward, pushing his broom faster as he chased the snitch with laser-like precision. His muscles tensed as the wind whipped through his hair, the world around him a blur.

Almost there…

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ron, struggling to keep pace. The crowd screamed Harry's name loudly from the stands again, causing Ron to shoot Harry an irritated glare.

"Oi, Potter!" Ron yelled. "Tell your fan club to quiet down! They're bloody annoying!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You tell them, Weasley!" he called back, just as he spotted the snitch now zipping directly behind Ron's ear. With one smooth motion, Harry swooped down and plucked it from the air, flashing it to Ron before zooming off again.

Ron's face flushed with frustration, his jaw tightening as he tried to catch up. But Harry was already leagues ahead, scanning the pitch for the second snitch.

"That's one for Potter!" Wood called out. "Just one more to go."

The second snitch had come into view quicker than the first and Harry dove down, hearing Ron grunt behind him as he tried to catch up. Jerking quickly, the snitch changed direction, and with an effortless spin, Harry followed after it.

A gasp filled the air, and Harry turned for a split second, seeing Ron now dangling from his broom, his legs swinging in the air. Sorry Ron, I don't think you're light enough on that broom to copy my spin.

It was with little effort that Harry reached forward and caught the second snitch. With two in hand, Harry did a quick victory lap, showing off the golden orbs to the crowd. The cheers from the stands grew even louder.

Wood blew the whistle hard! "And that's two now for Potter."

Harry was just about to begin his descent when right beside him, he felt the fluttering of the final set of wings. Seems odd not to go for the full set, he rationalized, pulling his broom up after the final snitch as it soared into the clouds.

The crowd below became smaller, their cheers fading as Harry made chase, refusing to allow the golden orbs gleam to leave his sight. His focus was entirely on the snitch, its wings glinting in the sunlight as it darted in and out of the mist.

Wait, mist? Harry thought, slowly bringing himself to a stop as a sudden chill swept over him. The temperature dropped sharply, the warmth of the sun replaced by an icy cold that sent shivers down Harry's spine. His breath came out in frosty puffs as a familiar, unsettling feeling crept into his chest.

No, no, not good, Harry thought. Through the mist, a dark figure emerged. The cold intensified as the Dementor drew nearer, its tattered black robes billowing in the wind. Harry's grip tightened on his broom as he tried to shake off the feeling of dread that washed over him. He raised his wand. Not going to happen, Harry chided himself, not this time.

Harry racked his brain desperate for a memory, but just as before, he found nothing but blurred images. Harry clenched his broom, trying to turn it away, but found his grip weak as the dementor crept closer still. His vision was blurry now, and Harry could hardly summon the strength to breathe as he felt a sucking feeling building on his face.

And then, it came again. A scream. That horrible, shrill, agonizing scream. "No... no..." Harry muttered, his wand sparking weakly in his hand. "Expecto… Expecto…"

The Dementor glided closer still, its skeletal hand reaching out for him. Harry's grip on his broom faltered, and before he could react, he felt himself slipping. No, not like this, was the last thing Harry thought as his vision blackened and the sense of even him falling through the clouds faded into nothingness.

A/N: Wow! Oh boy did a lot happen in this chapter! I hope there was at least one section you enjoyed! I hope that you've been finding all the characters a bit better written and the interactions a bit more fluid. That's really what I was going for. That and of course, making the story more compelling. I'd love to know what you think of the story so far and until next time, peace!