Chapter Eight

Harry mailed his letter first thing before going to breakfast. Malfoy had been incredulous when they entered the Great Hall that morning. Harry smiled and waved as they sat for breakfast. He told his theories to Ron while they ate.

"Whatever that dog's guarding must be, extremely valuable or dangerous!"

"Or both." Said Harry. All he knew about the object was that it could fit in your palm. Something that small could be practically anything. Neville and Hermione wanted nothing to do with whatever it was, wishing to forget that last night had occurred.

As the students in the Great Hall ate, there was suddenly a loud explosion and a mass of screams from the Slytherin table. A massive cloud of green, foul-smelling smoke erupted from beneath the table. Malfoy coughed and spluttered, gasping for fresh air. Harry smiled and glanced at Fred and George. The three gave each other a thumbs-up and went back to their meals.

Harry spoke with Professor McGonagall after class that day to ask if joining the Quidditch team would interfere with his joining the school orchestra. Luckily, practice for the orchestra and training for Quidditch happened on opposite ends of the week, so Harry would be able to do both. McGonagall warned Harry not to undertake too many extracurricular activities to prevent them from affecting his studies.

Harry walked to the music room on the fourth floor of the castle. Inside were various students from all four Houses. Harry sat in the strings section. He opened his violin case and pulled out his instrument. Susan Bones gazed at Harry's violin, her eyes wide.

"Harry, that's beautiful!" Susan had her own violin. Harry thanked her, then put together and rosined his bow. He checked that his violin was in tune, then gave a brief pull across the strings. The room was noisy, with the sound of students checking that their instruments were in tune and warming up for class. There were violins and cellos, trumpets and horns, drums and chimes, and various instruments. Professor Flitwick entered the room and climbed up to the podium.

"Welcome students to the first audition and rehearsal of the school orchestra. I see we have some new faces this year. How wonderful!" Professor Flitwick briefly explained how the orchestra and frog choir performed for special occasions like the welcoming feast. Harry and the other First Years had missed the performance, as it had occurred before the Sorting. Flitwick then asked for a count of how many students were there to audition. Harry, Susan, and several other students raised their hands.

"Excellent! When I call your name, please stand before the class and give us a short performance." Flitwick began to call their names one by one. Harry and the others watched and listened as those called performed various pieces individually.

Eventually, Harry's name was called. Harry stood before the other students and raised his violin to his chin. Harry began to play a song he'd composed himself. It was slow and mournful. He'd written it one drizzly afternoon, the gloomy weather inspiring him. The class listened intently as Harry played. Susan Bones sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. When Harry was done, the entire class erupted into applause. Flitwick nearly fell off his perch in excitement.

"Well done, Mr. Potter-Addams! Well done indeed!" Harry gave a slight bow and returned to his seat. Once everyone had been called, Flitwick informed them he would consider everyone's performance and post the results in a few days. Harry shook Susan's hand and wished her good luck. She thanked him and said the same.

Harry checked the Gryffindor noticeboard each morning for the results. Soon enough, he found the notice pinned up. Harry scanned the list of names. Susan Bones was chosen as the first chair violin. Harry continued down the list until, at last, he found his name listed for the second chair. Harry grinned and told Ron, who congratulated him.

Time passed since the incident with the dog; Hermione still refused to speak to Harry and Ron over it, much to Ron's preference. As the students ate breakfast, the mail was delivered. Harry watched for Hedwig. Instead of his owl, a team of six owls carrying a long-wrapped package flew over the tables. The owls swooped over the Gryffindor table and dropped the package before Harry.

Another owl dropped a letter marked with a Hogwarts seal. Harry opened the letter first from Prof. McGonagall, who told him not to open the package at the Gryffindor table and that it contained his new broomstick, a top-range Nimbus 2000! McGonagall wrote that Oliver Wood would meet him at 7:00 PM for Harry's first training session later that evening. Harry handed the letter to Ron to read. His eyes boggled at what was written.

"A Nimbus 2000! It's the greatest broom on the market! The fastest ever built!" Harry and Ron quickly left the Great Hall to open the package in Gryffindor Tower. Halfway before they'd left the hall, Malfoy snatched the package from Harry. He felt the package, and his face sneered in envy and spite.

"A broomstick! You're in for it now, Potter! First Years aren't allowed!" Ron snapped back that it was a Nimbus 2000! Far superior to Malfoy's crappy old Comet 260! Malfoy turned pink angrily and was about to shout when Prof. Flitwick was suddenly there.

"Is there something wrong, boys? You wouldn't be fighting now, would you?" he asked.

"Potter's got a broomstick!" Malfoy snapped sharply—a brief smug look on his face, confident that Harry would be in trouble for having it. Flitwick smiled, however.

"Ah, yes, I was informed by Prof. McGonagall about the special circumstances concerning you, Mr. Potter-Addams. What model is it?"

"A Nimbus 2000, Professor, and it's thanks to Draco here that I have it!" Harry and Ron said goodbye to the Professor and left Malfoy looking apoplectic. They climbed to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione was following behind them, giving them dirty looks. She felt Harry didn't deserve to be on the Quidditch team since he'd broken the rules, and getting a broomstick in his First Year was just rewarding bad behavior.

Harry and Ron unwrapped the package and admired the new broom inside. The wood was lacquered a golden brown, and the bristles were neatly trimmed in a conical shape. The model name and number were on the head of the handle in gold. Harry took it upstairs, laid it under his bed, and got ready for classes that day. He had trouble concentrating on his lessons, as his mind was anticipating his first Quidditch training session that evening.

At 7:00 PM, Harry collected his broom and walked to the Quidditch pitch. A raised, wooden stadium rang the oval-shaped, grassy field. On either side of the field were tall posts tipped by golden rings.

Wood wasn't there yet, so Harry decided to practice his flying. He mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground. He shot off like a thunderbolt and zoomed around the pitch, swooping in circles faster than he'd ever moved before! He zipped in and out of the goalposts, back and forth across the field.

"Oi, Potter-Addams, down here!" Harry looked down and saw Oliver on the ground, a large trunk beside him. Harry swooped down and landed deftly beside the older boy. Wood smirked at Harry's flying skills.

"Not bad, McGonagall was right, you're a natural Harry! I'll teach you the rules of Quidditch tonight and show you what we play with. Practice is three times a week, every other day, so you can practice in Flitwick's symphony without conflict. Have you ever seen a game of Quidditch before?" Harry shook his head no but said he'd seen a few games of Quodpot with his Father. Wood seemed interested in this, having only basic knowledge of the American broom sport. Oliver opened the chest and produced a dimpled, scarlet leather ball.

"Each team has seven players; three are the chasers; they use the Quaffle here!" Oliver tossed the ball to Harry, who examined it.

"Chasers toss it between themselves as they fly to the other team's goals. They throw the Quaffle through either of the three goals for ten points."

"The Keeper, that's me, defends the hoops and tries to keep the chasers from scoring." Wood motioned for the ball, so Harry tossed it back. Wood put it down and grabbed a wooden bat. He handed it to Harry.

"Here, you better take hold of this!" Harry took hold of the bat. Wood then motioned to two iron spheres chained down in the chest. They seemed to be squirming angrily.

"These are the Bludgers; they're charmed to smack into other players at random. The Beaters, that's Fred and George Weasley for our team, keep the Bludgers away from our team and smack them at the other team. Stand back now!" Oliver knelt and released one of the Bludgers.

It zoomed up and out of the chest, high up into the air, then came back towards Harry. Harry readied himself with the bat, then swung fast and hard. He smacked the Bludger away from himself, sending it high into the air.

"Not bad Potter-Addams, you'd make a fair Beater!" Suddenly the Bludger came shooting back at the two boys. Oliver dived and grabbed hold of the struggling iron ball and wrestled it back into the case, chaining it down. He panted for breath, then pulled out one last ball, a tiny golden one.

"Now, your job is the Seeker; you must fly above the pitch and watch for this! The Golden Snitch! The Snitch is worth 150 points, and the game ends when the Snitch is caught. You catch this baby, provided we have scored enough points with the Quaffle, and we win the game!" Wood handed the Snitch to Harry.

The Snitch had silver wings that unfolded around the sphere, hovering above Harry's palm. He watched the tiny, golden orb sparkling even in the setting sun. The Snitch zipped about above their heads. Harry kept his eyes on it, watching closely. Harry readied himself and quickly snatched the Snitch from the air!

"Fantastic! We'll practice properly with the Snitch and the rest of the team next week. For now, show me your skills on a broom!" Harry mounted his broom and rose in the air. Wood hurled a series of Golf Balls as hard and high as possible. Harry shot through the air like lightning and caught every single one! Harry practiced until it was nearly dark. Wood motioned for him to come down, and together, they walked back to the castle, hauling the Quidditch trunk behind them.