At the Hour - Book Two

Where Draco should've been in front of Harry was a fourth-year boy called Mason Buchanan, who often frequented as a performer during the Symphony Showcases. Harry raised an eyebrow in question, mouthing, "Draco?" Mason shrugged and shook his head.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and Harry was in the air. The wind rushed in his ears. Then he realized it wasn't the wind. Harry ducked his head just before a Bludger flew past him.

Harry scowled to himself. That meant Dobby was still trying to knock him out. Then his anger turned into confusion. Where had Dobby been since their talk a whole month before? What had the house elf been doing?

George yelled something to Harry, swinging his club at the Bludger as it attempted to attack Harry once more. Harry gathered himself. He would find Dobby later. Now, he needed to keep his arm intact.

Harry did his usual routine, wooing the crowd by getting up in their faces. A Hufflepuff first year blushed at him. Snape in the teachers' stands looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Ron wasn't in the Gryffindor stands.

Harry refrained from going too close to the stands after the Bludger nearly crushed Blaise's skull, who had flipped him off. Harry wondered if he should get into gymnastics, with how he needed to use his broom like a horizontal bar (uneven bar? parallel bar? Either way, with the proper training he would be fucking fantastic). He twisted up, body close to the broom. It seemed the Bludger didn't follow the path of its past life. Harry gritted his teeth in irritation and effort.

Madam Hooch sounded her whistle, and Oliver flew to where Harry, Fred and George were.

"What’s going on?" said Wood, as the Gryffindor team huddled together. "We’re being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"

"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver,’ said George angrily. ‘Someone’s fixed it – it won’t leave Harry alone, it hasn’t gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it."

"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch’s office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then ..." said Wood anxiously.

Madam Hooch was walking towards them.

"Listen," said Harry, "with you two sandwiching me the only way I'll catch the Snitch is if it falls into my lap and does a bloody strip tease." George choked. "Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."

'Don’t be thick," said Fred. "It’ll take your head off."

Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.

"Oliver, this is mad," said Alicia Spinnet angrily. "You can’t let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let’s ask for an inquiry–"

"If we stop now, we’ll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry. "And we’re not losing to Slytherin just because of a mad Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!"

"This is all your fault,’ George said angrily to Wood. " 'Get the Snitch or die trying' – what a stupid thing to tell him! He's going to knock himself out for a stupid Quidditch match!"

Madam Hooch joined them.

"Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.

Wood looked at the determined look on Harry’s face.

"Alright," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Harry – leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own."

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch’s whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the tell-tale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. He twisted, turning and making dives so sharp they could cut glass. He cast a wandless charm on his glasses so the rain wouldn't get to them.

There was no one to say, "Training for the ballet, Potter?" Mason was too much of a coward (or clever enough) to get close to Harry and the Bludger.

The Snitch flutter just a few feet away. Harry did not pause, did not falter, and chased after it. His soaking wet hair clung to the back of his neck, his red-and-green robes drenched and weighing him down. The wood of his broom was harder to grip on to. Harry flew, higher, higher...

His fingers closed around the Snitch, the crowd in an uproar. Harry grinned, just as he slid off the broom.

Harry woke in the mud, face to face with Ron and Hermione. There were too man people crowded around him.

"Ron? 'M sorry...what'reyou doin' 'ere..."

"Can't stay mad at an injured person, can I?" Ron huffed. "We can fight later." Hermione smacked him sharply.

"Out of the way, out of the way..." Lockhart called, shoving Ron and Hermione away. Harry was happy to see they both scowled.

"Get back!" Harry groaned.

"Tsk, doesn't know wh-"

"I know you're more likely to Vanish my bones than fix them! Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey!"

"Ah, Harry, it'll-"

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted. Colin Creevey snapped a photo of him as Lockhart's wand landed in his good hand. Harry gripped on to it tightly, brandishing it menacingly.

Hermione and Theo gaped at him. The two swots were sure to ask (wring him dry for answers) about it later.

Lockhart beamed to Harry and the crowd. "No worries, I must say I am an absolute ace at wandless magic!-"

"Listen hear Lockhart," Harry deadpanned, staring into the ridiculous man's eyes, "cast a single charm on me and I'll have you bald before supper-"

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall scolded, though looking distastefully at Lockhart, the same time Madam Pomfrey shouted, "Oh, stop crowding around the boy!"

"Heyy Poppy! At least 'm not in the hospital wing, eh?" Harry was high on his relief.

Pomfrey shared a look with McGonagall before turning back to Harry and scoffing, "This isn't much better, you silly plonker!"

"Poppy!" McGonagall choked.

"Minerva!" Pomfrey mocked, retrieving some medical supplies from her pockets. Whenever Lockhart tried to get close she would give him the stink eye.

She performed a full scan on him. "A broken arm and a concussion! Must've had quite the fall, haven't you...well, we can't take you to the Hospital Wing...much too far..." She took out her wand. "Now Harry, first I'm going to cast a stabilization spell on your arm." Magic made his arm twinge a bit. "Now something for your head. Cephalomend."

"...exactly what I would've done..." Lockhart babbled.

"Bone-mending potion, Severus," Pomfrey called. Snape handed it over quickly. She propped his head up and tipped the contents down his throat.

"Alright, let's get him up the Hospital Wing now. Oh, what did I say about the crowding?"

Most of the Gryffindor team scurried off, except the twins and Oliver. Pomfrey pinched the latter down to her height by the ear. "Ow!" Oliver cried.

"Were you the numpty that let this happen, Wood?"

"Uhm-"

"I mean, how irresponsible do you have to be-"

George interrupted, "He said Harry should get the Snitch or die trying!"

"Looks like you're the snitch-" Oliver hissed.

"OLIVER WOOD! Quidditch Captain, my-"

"Poppy-" Dumbledore began.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," McGonagall said over the chaos. Poppy snapped her head in her direction. McGonagall swallowed. "Fifteen?"

"Hmph! Minerva, you're Wingardium Leviosa'ing Potter to the Hospital Wing."

...

"I don't have to stay overnight, right?" Harry pleaded, cutting himself off oddly when he realized Dobby would just Apparate inside his dorm.

"No, Mr. Potter, you'll be just in time for dinner."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Yes, yes..."

Pomfrey moved out of view, shutting the curtain. Harry sighed.

He needed to be better to his friends. He already fucked up with Ron and Draco.

Speak of the Devil, he thought, as Hermione and Ron burst in.

"Harry!" they cried. Hermione recklessly yanked his arm to examine it. "Does it hurt?"

"Nah. Hiya, Ron."

"Hiya, Harry."

"Ronald told me about your spat." Hermione eyed Harry. Ron choked behind her. "So?"

"I'm sorry Ron, and I'm not saying that just 'cause Hermione told me to. I'm sorry."

"Funny enough, I'm not worried about that anymore," Ron said, raising an eyebrow. "We ran into Pansy on our way over. What's up with you and Draco?"

"Oh!- well...that I really fucked up."

Hermione hissed, looking over her shoulder. "You curse like a sailor! Sometimes I wonder if you're twelve at all!"

Technically I'm eighteen, counting last year in this timeline. Or am I actually 28, with the years I lived in this timeline but didn't travel into?

"I talked about stuff I didn't know about. His parents, pureblood parents..."

"Ha! What, you criticized the Malfoy House crest of something? Insulted his favorite snake?" Ron sniggered.

"Oi! No, they actually have a lot of pressure on them, actually. Did you know there's spies in Slytherin that rat out house heirs if they aren't following their rules?"

Ron scoffed. "What 'rules'?"

Hermione interrupted, looking thoughtful. "No public displays of weakness or disobedience, no relationships with anyone related to Muggles, doing exceedingly well in lessons, public displays of alliances with other noble houses...I read it in a book. 'The Pureblood Heir Statute: Purity, Power, and Legacy,' I think. Page 83."

Ron gaped at her. "And what the ever-loving fuck were you doing reading that?"

Hermione scoffed. "I just had a theory about something and I got distracted cross-referencing. Anyways, it makes sense, doesn't it? Of course purebloods would forced their heirs to following strict protocols. They obviously care about how society sees them and their heirs are a reflection of that."

"Well...ok," Ron mused. "Then why does Draco and the other Slytherins hang out with us so much?"

Harry said, "Draco told me you can bribe the spies."

"Huh. That figures."

It was quiet for a bit before Harry said, "So have either of you seen Draco?"

Ron looked surprised. "He wasn't in the audience?"

Hermione rolled her eyes fondly. "He's Slytherin seeker, you twat."

"Oh! Right. Yeah, no, haven't seen him mate."