Stonewall

The bell shrieked, the sound piercing Harry's ears. Glancing at his timetable, he turned to leave but paused. His first P.E lesson was today, something he was both looking forward to and scared of at the same time. He hurried down to the field and saw his three fellow boarders waiting for him. As he walked over, Tom wolf-whistled at him, grinning. Glancing briefly in his direction with dismay, he ignored the three bullies, just as he heard Iris call out. 'Oi Potter, cutting it a bit fine are we?' Grinning, Harry nodded.

The P:E teacher was a middle aged lady with piercing yellow eyes. She had grey, spiky hair and announced to the class that she was called Madame Twill. She seemed fair and kind, and always wore a silver whistle around her neck. She seemed to like the colour purple and was dressed in full gym clothes. 'Step up class, what are you waiting for? We are going to start with a quick race around the track. This is a perfect warm up for Soccer.' Half of the class groaned, the other half cheered. Harry, however, was split between them. He was rather a fast runner, as far as he knew. The only running he'd ever done though, was sprinting from Dudley and his gang to avoid injury. He was yet to see others run, so didn't really know what to expect from the class.

He shifted next to Iris and Justin, both of whom were eying each other competitively. It was clear they both thought themselves faster than the other and were keen to prove themselves. Amy, on the other-hand, seemed severely disappointed. Fake-limping over to Madame Trill, she attempted to sweet talk herself out of the race. Madame Twill merely scoffed and waved her away, it was clear she had seen this many times before. However, before she could walk off, Amy tapped her on the shoulder and muttered something under her breath. Straining his ears Harry inched closer. Suddenly, their teacher nodded and pointed to the bench, seeming disorientated and glassy eyed. Amy smugly took a seat, not looking in the direction of her friends.

Harry stared at her and then back at the other two, but it was clear none of them had been watching. Finding himself being pushed towards the track by the rest of the class, Harry lined up nervously. '3, 2..' Madame Twill began the countdown, but one boy had started early. Earnest Klutz sat up howling. Blood streamed from his nose, his face bruised and clutching his left ankle. In a heavy accent, he started cursing heavily. 'Stay here while I take Mr Klutz to the sick bay.' Their P.E teacher directed them.

'So, Potter. Look what your little friend got in the mail this morning.' The main Tom drawled. He waved a letter around that had Amy's name on the front in small, concise handwriting. Harry glanced over at Amy and saw her face heat up as she looked in horror. 'G-g-give that back, Tom.' She stuttered at him. Smirking, he replied, 'I don't think I will. I'm not in the mood.' He answered in a mocking voice. Amy's tone suddenly changed. It was low but clear. 'Walk over here. Give me my letter. Leave us alone.' Harry saw Tom's eyes glaze over and he slowly, much to everyone's disbelief, began to walk towards her as if hypnotized. The two other Toms stared and one grabbed his arm and shook him. Shaking his head, the leader came to his senses.

Shooting a look at Harry, he sneered, 'I was just acting.' Harry darted forwards, attempting to snatch the letter from his hand. Tom simply laughed, 'Catch me if you can, Potter.' He walked up to the track. 'Harry Potter, you heard what Madame Twill said, you'll be punished. Tom is the fastest runner in the school, and would be on the soccer team except he is below the age limit. You don't even know how to race properly.' Glancing behind him to see who was berating him, he was unsurprised to see it was Iris. She was being restrained by Justin to stop her clenched fists meeting Tom's nose. Slowly, he walked up to the track next to Tom.

'What an Idiot.' Ignoring Iris, Harry was taken by surprise when Tom took off, speeding down the track. Speeding after him, Harry stared in shock. This was easy, came so naturally, so simple. Tom had a huge head start but Harry was swiftly catching him. Tom peeked behind him and sped up in shock, once seeing Harry on his heels. He whipped a tennis ball from his pocket a managed to tape the letter to it, just as Harry caught him. 'Hand it over, Tom.' 'I don't believe I will.' Replied the boy, before hurling the ball as far as he could, towards the pond. Quickly leaving the track before he got caught, Tom sauntered off.

Harry had never ran so fast in his life. He knew it was stupid, risking so much for someone else, but for him, it wasn't about the letter. It was to prove Tom wrong. He snatched the ball out of the air as it flew over the pond, flinging out his arms to balance himself on the muddy banks. Slipping and sliding, the class held it's breath, waiting to see if he would fall. Finally Harry managed to find stable ground. The class cheered tremendously as he jogged towards them, basking in the attention. The letter clutched in his hand, Harry smirked at Tom smugly.

'Harry Potter!' His heart sank as Professor Gall marched towards him looking furious. Harry caught sight of the Toms triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor Gall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor Gall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor Gall didn't say a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of his friends. Perhaps someone else would move into his room, his bed. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Justin and the others graduating, while he stumped around the campus, sweeping the floors night, to only be paid minimum wages. Professor Gall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside. "Excuse me, Professor, could I borrow Flint for a moment?" Flint? thought Harry, bewildered; was Flint a rock she was going to use on him? But Flint turned out to be a person, a burly 17 year old boy who came out of the class looking confused. "Follow me, you two," said Professor Gall, and they marched on up the corridor, Flint looking curiously at Harry.

"In here." Professor Gall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for a young boy named Peeves. He was renowned for being a pest around the school. He was always joking and causing chaos. He was busy writing rude words on the blackboard. "Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor Gall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys. "Potter, this is Sam Flint. Flint -- I've found you a player." Flint's expression changed from puzzlement to delight. "Are you serious, Professor?" "Absolutely," said Gall crisply. "The boy's a natural .I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time running track Potter?" Harry nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.

"He caught that thing in his hand after one of the fastest sprints I've ever seen," Gall told the older boy. "Didn't even trip or stumble once, not even in the mud. Flint was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once. "Ever seen a game of soccer Potter?" he asked excitedly. 'Flint's captain of the Snakes, one of the Stonewall teams.' Gall explained.

"He's just the build for a runner, too," said Flint, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "Light -- speedy -- we'll have to get him decent shoes, Professor -- nothing old fashioned or second hand, one of the later pairs, I'd say." "I shall speak the headmaster and see if we can't bend the age rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by the Cats, I couldn't look Tobius Snape in the face for weeks...." Professor Gall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry." I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you. "

She stared at him harshly once more, before scowling, and sending them both off to class.