Hello Hello! Not gonna waste any time here, lets cover some reviews:
DJ Scales: Molly raising Harry will indeed change a lot about Harry's character, and last chapter won't be the only instance of that happening. Also, could you give some examples of confusing sentences? I'll try my best to acknowledge them next chapter, if I can.
Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, since Malfoy couldn't have known that they didn't rise to Malfoy's bait, he had no idea why they couldpossibly look so cheerful on their perceived "Last Day at Hogwarts"
As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.
Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.
Professor M. McGonagall
Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.
"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."
"I'll let you use it over the summer, Ron." Harry promised with a wide smile.
They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.
"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."
Ron couldn't resist it.
"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."
"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."
Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.
"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.
"Potters been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.
"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"
"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.
Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.
"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team. …"
"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.
Harry sighed. He knew this was no doubt going to be a tough habit for Hermione to break. "For breaking the rules? No. For doing the right thing in spite of the rules? Yes." He explained.
"I thought you weren't speaking to us? Don't stop now," sneered Ron, "it's doing us so much good."
Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.
Harry groaned in annoyance. "What is wrong with you? She hasn't done a thing to you and you've been nothing but rude to her since the train ride here."
"Not my fault she's a bossy little know-it-all..." Ron grumbled, walking away.
Sighing, Harry continued the trek to the dorms to put away his new broomstick.
Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.
"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.
That was really the only way to describe how wonderful the broom looked. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.
As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. He'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end.
Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling — he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.
"Hey, Potter, come down!"
Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him.
"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant … you really are a natural. Now I know you already know the rules, so tonight is just going to serve as a refresher for you and the reader."
"The what?" Harry asked
"Nothing. After that, you'll be joining team practice three times a week."
He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.
"Right," said Wood. "Now as you know, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."
"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.
"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"
"Yep." Harry nodded.
"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper — I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring. Now, take this, and I'll show you how the Bludgers work. I know you've no doubt seen them at Quidditch matches, but dealing with them is a whole different matter entirely." Wood said, handing Harry a Beater's bat. He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.
"Stand back," Wood warned Harry. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.
At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air — it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.
"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team — the Weasley twins are ours — it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. Side note, that wasn't bad, Potter. You'd make a decent Beater, too."
Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.
"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages — I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.
"Well, that's it — any questions?"
Harry shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.
"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."
He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.
Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.
"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."
Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.
On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. With a smile, Harry went out of his way to partner up with Neville, the two having formed a close bond after Harry and Hermione helped him get back into the Common Room (which was a relief, because Seamus had been trying to catch his eye. It wasn't that he disliked the boy, far from it. He just didn't feel like spontaneously combusting today). Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this.
"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."
It was very difficult. Harry and Neville swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. That was when Harry noticed that Neville's wand didn't seem to do much of anything, really. He'd have to bring that up with Professor McGonagall when he saw her next, as she was their head of house.
Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.
"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."
"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.
Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.
"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"
Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.
"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."
Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face — and was startled to see that she was in tears.
"Okay Ron, that's it! You've gone way too far!" Harry snarled at his brother. "Just because I get it that you get jealous because she does better than you, but that does not give you an excuse to insult her to the point of tears! Now I have to go clean up your mess."
Huffing, Harry left a gobsmacked Ron and followed after Hermione, finally finding her in the girls bathroom, crying in a stall.
He lightly knocked on the door. "Hermione? It's Harry." He said softly.
"Go away." She sniffled.
Harry sighed and sat on the floor. "Can't do that. My brother's call it my 'helping people complex'" He chuckled. "I'm sorry about Ron. He gets jealous really easily but that doesn't give him an excuse to take it out on you. That wasn't right."
"...I'm used to it by now." She sniffled, unlocking the door and sitting next to Harry. "It was the same at my old school, too. I should've expected this school to be no different."
"Being used to it doesn't make it right." Harry argued back. "Besides, if anything, I should be thanking you. I've been trying to think of an excuse to avoid heading to the Great Hall all week. I kinda hate Halloween, if I'm being completely honest."
Distracted from her own woes, Hermione looked at Harry, curious. "How come?"
Harry sighed, looking up at the roof. "For everyone else, it's this celebration. Not just Halloween, but that it's the anniversary of when Voldemort fell. For me though..."
"It's just a reminder of the fact that your parents died." Hermione said in understanding. "You feel like everyone is celebrating their deaths."
Harry nodded sadly. "I can't really say anything to Ron because he wouldn't understand, nobody would take Fred and George seriously because of their reputation as pranksters, and Percy is too much of a stickler for the rules that he'd make me go because it's 'tradition'. It's... actually really nice to get this off my chest."
"What about if I go with you?" Hermione offered. "We enjoy the feast and then after, we talk about your parents, just you and me. I know you might not remember much of them, but you've had to have heard stories."
Harry nodded with a smile, getting up and offering Hermione his hand. "I'd like that."
Hermione gave a small, tearful smile back and accepted Harry's hand, pulling the boy into a hug. "Thanks for coming to check on me." She murmured.
Harry could only laugh. "Isn't that what friends are for?"
Even if Harry didn't much like the holiday, he couldn't deny that the decorations were fantastic.
A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.
Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know."
He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.
"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
Percy was in his element.
"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"
Harry stopped. "WAIT!" he yelled, his voice carrying across the Great Hall. "Professor! The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins! Their common rooms are in the dungeons! It's not safe!"
Dumbledore stopped in his tracks, clearly forgetting that fact in his haste to protect the students from the troll "Mister Potter is correct. Students, you are to stay in the Great Hall until further notice! Your Head of House will come collect you when the danger is clear."
Even Percy had to admit, Harry brought up a very good point. "10 points to Gryffindor for quick thinking, Harry." he said proudly, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder before going to calm some of the students down.
"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked, looking between Ron and Hermione
"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."
Hermione shook her head. "I doubt it, Peeves might pull pranks, but he doesn't go out of his way to do anything that could potentially kill a student. This is still his home, he wouldn't dare seriously injure anyone in Hogwarts."
"Let me guess, Hogwarts: A History?" Harry asked with a smirk.
Hermione smacked his arm, a pink tinge dusting her cheeks. "Shut up." she muttered, the edges of her lips curling in a slight smile.
"Hermione, I want to apologize." Ron suddenly muttered, looking down. "Harry, you were right, I was being a prat and letting my ego get in the way. I'm sorry for making you cry."
From that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. Through Harry simply being there for the bushy haired girl, to Ron admitting that he was wrong, there are some friendships that are forged that simply last a lifetime.
And here we have possibly some of our biggest deviations so far! Because the Midnight Duel didn't happen, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville never find out about Fluffy and instead I used that time for character development between Harry and Hermione, which ultimately comes into play here in this chapter where, since Harry went out of his way to comfort Hermione, they never had to deal with the Troll in the first place!
Anyways that's it from me, thank yall for reading, pizza!