Quidditch Trials
Saturday, September 14th, 1996
Throughout the next week of classes, there was no question at all to whom Slughorn’s favoritism favored the most; with the Half-Blood Prince’s book at their side, Harry and Draco were dominating all, and, by a cruel twist of chance, or maybe just dumb luck, Draco, when given a tattered book from Slughorn’s storeroom in his first Alchemy class, in which he, Theodore, and Padma were the only students, he found it to also be owned by the Half-Blood Prince.
“I don’t believe this,” Hermione had said on Tuesday, when Draco had come to dinner and slammed the worn book on the table. “You two are -” Harry and Draco didn’t get to learn exactly what they were, as Hermione cut herself off by instead groaning into her hands.
There could be no doubt that it was both written by the same person and that this person was clearly a Potions novice, and the occasion of two books existing had certainly caused the Quartet to wonder what the true identity of the man was, but that had all been thrown out the window quick, because the free periods the kids had thought they’d be able to utilize well for ‘snooping,’ had turned out to be a fantasy.
Instead of pouring over books on potioneers or school records for anyone carrying the surname ‘Prince,’ they were scratching the backs of their heads whilst trying to understand the vast amount of homework being handed to them, not to mention the lectures within the actual class. For reasons that could only be explained by the Half-Blood Prince, Harry’s best subject had suddenly become Potions, though Draco’s of course was always Potions, and now Alchemy. But Transfiguration was now full of complicated formulas even Hermione had to ask for help on, leaving all prior suspicions that Professor Jones would be the easiest class far behind.
Care of Magical Creatures even gave Harry and Draco headaches, now, as they had to memorize various diets and illnesses, and then how to treat those illnesses with certain beasts. But thankfully, within Care they barely casted one spell, much less had to do so nonverbally, as was the precedent for every other class, except Herbology, which for once was a relief to go to and visit all the terrified plants.
They were even allowed to swear before Professor Sprout if grappled by a Venomous Tentacula.
Now, however, the Quartet was preoccupied at breakfast with eyeing the staff table, which they did a bit too often, maybe, to the point they were surprised the staff hadn’t gotten spooked. But, today, they saw an empty spot, which was easily noticeable because it should be inhabited by a large half-giant.
“Where’s Hagrid?” Harry finally broke the silence, and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.
“Well if anyone should know it’s you two,” she said, nodding at the boys. “You’re the ones who’re actually taking his class,” She swallowed, frowning and lowering her eyes as, obviously she was getting guilty from not taking the class when the other two chose to. “Oh, I should’ve explained to him -”
“Hermione,” Ron said softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Believe me, you’re a wonderful witch, but do you really think this is what we should be worrying about right now?” He slammed the table with his hand, causing them all to flinch. “Wake up, everybody! We’ve got Quidditch tryouts this morning! You too, Draco,” He pointed a finger at the blonde. “This afternoon. Because for some Merlin-forsaken reason you wanted to make them the same day -”
“Because I wanted it to be the same as my friends,” said Draco, scowling, but Ron only shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, it’s not our fault we hat -” He hesitated, probably because this was his girlfriend, despite the fact she hadn’t been showing it very recently, and instead he said, “Disliked his subject. Look, ‘Mione he… He almost killed you. Well, Grawp did, but he almost killed you and Harry in the woods, you said so -”
“Maybe so,” Hermione looked over at him, frowning deeply. “But I still don’t like not talking to him.”
“We’ll go down after Quidditch,” Harry said, and Draco even forced a tight lipped smile as he nodded at her. “But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied.” Harry shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought about how hard Captaincy was going to be. “I dunno why the team’s this popular all of a sudden.”
“Oh, come on, Harry,” In a moment, all of Hermione’s usual energy reappeared as she smirked at him. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.” Ron, who had been struggling to put a piece of kipper in his mouth with his non-dominant hand while keeping his arm around Hermione’s shoulder with the other, choked on his fish. Hermione only gave him a glance before smiling at Harry, looking very amused at his bewilderment to his own fame, but she wasn’t the only one, as Draco was also smirking at him while shoveling food into the corner of his mouth.
“Everyone knows you’ve been telling the truth now, don’t they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they’re calling you ‘the Chosen One’ - well, come on, can’t you see why people are fascinated by you? And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway.”
“I have the same scar on my hand,” Ron showed her the back of his hand but she didn’t glance at it. Frowning, he didn’t give up, instead shaking back his sleeves and saying, “You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look!”
“And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” said Hermione, ignoring Ron.
“I’m tall,” Ron rebutted, now scowling, but Hermione was saved from saying anything when she at last sighed and turned to him, shaking her head with a smile, and the post owls swooped down through the windows, sopping wet, before she could speak.
As the owls came towards their owners they drenched upon them droplets of water Harry had to scowl at, thinking of how these tryouts would be even worse due to the stubborn weather. When could things go right -
He was cut off by his train of thought when Hedwig swooped down in front of him and dropped a square letter before him, which he tore open in a flash, grinning to see the familiar handwriting of his Godfather.
Hello Harry,
How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t written to you yet but with the war going on the Order has been busier than ever, as you might guess. But, I thought I might offer you an update on some things, because I doubt Ron’s mum is going to be telling you anything when it might ‘distract from your studies.’ Although you should still keep up with those, don’t let me go and be a bad influence on you.
Percy and Tess have moved out of The Burrow as planned, and have found a charming house near the Diggory’s perfect for two and three babies. Fleur - or ‘Phlegm’ as I hear your friends have been calling her - is still being, well, herself, and I think it’s going to finally put Molly in a mental hospital soon, but luckily Remus and I haven’t had to be around that as much with war business.
Speaking of war business, the random killings have not died down and there are Auror’s who are beginning to arrest innocent people, as I’m sure you’ll see in the Prophet today. Tonks is suspecting there are spies at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and I’m beginning to agree, but Remus suspects it’s just mania with the fear that Barty Crouch Jr is back. After infiltrating Hogwarts twice and killing Dumbledore he’s risen to be number two on everyone’s list of dangerous enemies, right below Voldemort.
But that, of course, is nothing for you to worry about, Harry. I’m sure you’ve got your own list of problems at school, and probably a list of secrets to solve already. Just make sure you keep your eyes peeled for traitors. After what happened with Barty last year… I don’t want to see another one of your friends turn out to be a Death Eater in disguise, so make sure you trust them, and I mean really trust them. Believe me I know what it’s like, but this is war. Sometimes you can’t trust anybody.
Sincerely,
Snuffles
Harry’s spirits had gradually gone up and up throughout reading the letter, to the point where all worries for the weather during tryouts had fled for he was happy to simply have a reminder of his Godfather in his hands, always there for him, even with ‘important war business.’
“Here you go,” He blinked in surprise, but understanding hit his face as his lips formed an ‘o’ when he looked down at the book Draco had just rudely thrown at him. Other than the envelope he’d wasted no time in opening, Hedwig had apparently dropped a package he hadn’t seen at first as well, which carried a brand new copy of Advanced Potion-Making and the Intricates of Alchemy for Draco. Draco had just performed the binding trick he and Harry had discussed on his own copy and swapped the covers, while Hermione blinked at him, owlishly, so Harry got the Half-Blood Prince’s book from his bag, doing the same.
“And you still don’t think this is cheating,” was all she could say when they had finished, smirking triumphantly. “Do you?”
“It’s not bad, if that’s what you’re worrying about. We’ll give Slughorn his copies back.” Again, before Hermione could say anything an owl distracted her, this time a gray tawny, dropping the day’s copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry leaned forward as she unfolded it, instantly interested in what Sirius had been referring to.
“Anyone we know dead?” Ron asked, voice casual as he could make it, as it always had been which he’d asked every other time Hermione had opened her day’s paper.
“No, but there was a dragon sighting in the Switzerland’s. And an arrest.”
That must’ve been what Sirius was talking about with the Ministry’s trust issues and manic arrests. “Who is it?” Harry asked, fearing the answer.
“Stan Shunpike,” said Hermione.
“What?” Harry dropped his book as he tried to slip it back into his bag so it lay open on the floor, and he gave a couple paranoid glances around him in case anyone had seen its contents before spinning back around to Hermione.
“‘Stanley Shunpike, conductor on the popular Wizard conveyance the Knight Bus, has been arrested on suspicion of Death Eater activity. Mr. Shunpike, 21, was taken into custody late last night after a raid on his Clapham home…’”
“Stan Shunpike, a Death Eater? Snuffles was right,” He waved his recent letter at his friends. “The Ministry is getting paranoid.”
“He might have been put under the Imperius Curse,” said Ron, glancing at a frowning Hermione and clearly trying to make things sound nicer for her. “You never can tell.” Beside Harry, Draco shivered and he winced, realizing he’d sacrificed making Hermione happy for making Draco uncomfortable. “Sorry.”
“It doesn’t look like it,” said Hermione, shaking her head in tandem with her eyes darting across the page. “It says here he was arrested after he was overheard talking about the Death Eaters secret plans in a pub. If he was under the Imperius Curse, he’d hardly stand around gossiping about their plans, would he?”
“It sounds like he was trying to make out he knew more than he did,” said Ron, reasonably. “Isn’t he the one who claimed he was going to become Minister of Magic when he was trying to chat up those veela?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” said Harry, smiling faintly because he’d always found Stan to be quite amusing like this. “I dunno what they're playing at, taking Stan seriously.”
“Well, look at this,” She turned the paper around, pointing at a subtext below a picture of Cornelius Fudge holding his hands out before a crowd of reporters in front of the golden statue of different magical races that Harry remembered being a centerpiece of the Ministry of Magic. He appeared to be trying to calm them down, but looked very stressed himself. “Fudge says he’s working to clear up the charges. Remember, we took the Knight Bus to get to the Ministry - all of the HOOD. Bet it doesn’t look too good for him now, does it?”
“At least he’s trying,” Harry said, leaning back to frown at his hardly touched plate. “With Dumbledore gone I bet he feels really lost. We all do.”
Students had started getting removed. Eloise Midgen had been picked up by her father that morning and Hannah Abbott was taken out of Herbology when her mother was found dead, and hadn’t been seen since. There were talks of some drama with the Patil family too, as the twins’ parents wanted them removed. Of course, there were also protests.
Graffiti on the walls, signs pinned to the walls of abandoned corridors, where people hoped Filch wouldn’t catch them, all demanding that the children related to Death Eater’s be removed. The reasoning, Harry supposed, was that if Hannah didn’t come back, Draco and his other Slytherin friends shouldn’t either, but all it had led to was a down spirited Draco and Harry passing the Carrow twins the other day sobbing on their knees.
He’d tried to approach them but, seeing his scarlet robes, they ran away. It was quite frankly depressing, but as the Quartet trudged off to the Quidditch pitch, they held out faint hope that the trials would cheer them up.
“Alright Draco, let’s find a good seat,” Hermione tugged on the blonde’s arm once they’d reached the pitch and stood on tiptoe to kiss Ron on the cheek, whispering, “Good luck.” She then headed for the stands, dragging Draco with her, up the water logged benches.
Harry turned to the pitch and, feeling thoroughly beaten, sighed at the sight of half of Gryffindor House waiting before him, nervous, giggling, or intimidating; First years, fifth, and seventh, respectively.
As Harry approached them a large, wiry-haired boy stepped away from the crowd, holding out his hand. “We met on the train, in old Sluggy’s compartment. Cormac McLaggen, Keeper.”
Harry raised an eyebrow as he shook his head, feeling he was acting way too big for a boy he’d never seen hold a broomstick before. “You didn’t try out last year, did you?”
“I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials,” said McLaggen, lifting his chin with swagger Harry still was sure he didn’t deserve. “Ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet.”
“Right,” Harry nodded, not bothering to hide his scowl. “Well… if you wait over there…” He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, where Hermione and Draco had taken front seats in the stands. He could see Pansy climbing up to join them, something he suspiciously thought to be a bucket of popcorn tucked under her arm, and waved to her with a smile, which she returned, swinging her braided hair back. Behind her trailed Luna, who waved to Harry and called, “Good luck, Ginny!” down to the redheaded girl beside Ron, retrieving a tiny red and gold flag and waving it.
Immediately, Ginny ducked her head so her strawberry red face was hidden behind her long red hair.
“Here to watch the show?” Hermione and Draco both turned in their seats in surprise at Pansy’s voice, and, choosing to ignore her completely, Draco said, “Hey Luna,” to his charming distant cousin whilst Pansy rolled her eyes and plopped down beside her. “Very clever, Draco. Popcorn?”
Hermione leaned over to raise her eyebrows at the bucket. “Pansy… What are you doing?”
“Look at them,” She gestured to Harry unraveling the scroll of names of the people who’d signed up, calling out attendance. “I bet half of them can’t even fly, look at those kids,” She pointed at a group of first years towards the back, shivering in the rain. “I don’t think they’ve ever touched a broom. This is going to be fun,” she said with a smirk and tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
“I’m beginning to think the twins were a bad influence on her, not good,” Draco whispered to Hermione who nodded, grimacing. “Definitely.”
Trials began with Harry asking all of the applicants to divide into groups of ten - six groups, Merlin help him - and for the students to proceed to fly once around the pitch. This would seem to be too easy, but as the first ten were all first years who had never flown before and the second a group of the silliest, most giggling group of girls Harry had ever seen, the methods were too necessary.
An old hatred for giggling girls, which had died down sometime during Fifth Year, rearmerged right then and there. Suffice to say they were sent back quickly and thankfully sat nowhere near Harry’s friends when Pansy glared coldly at them, flashing a silver badge with a very recognizable ‘I.’
“You still have your Inquisitorial Squad things?” Draco asked her skeptically to which she merely shrugged, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Sometimes it pays to be feared.” she said and Draco shook his head, finally reaching in to take some popcorn when the third group all ran into each other halfway around the pitch and Harry lowered his face into his hands.
The fourth group, for some inane reason, had chosen to show up without broomsticks, and the fifth was where Harry finally lost his cool, as they were all Hufflepuffs.
“If there’s anyone else here who’s not from Gryffindor!” Harry yelled over their gawking and chattering, so loud all of the popcorn in Pansy’s hand missed her mouth. “Leave now, please!” He roared and the kid began to back away before filing out as he folded his arms and nodded, moving them along, even a group of Ravenclaws, roaring with laughter. “Yeah I bet you think you're funny!” called Harry as they ran for good measure.
That left Third Year kids and up, all looking hopeful or prideful. Here he started doing real Quidditch challenges for them, sending the ones trying for Chaser up to throw Quaffles at the kids trying for Keeper, at one point narrowing it down to six and pinning two groups of three against each other for the Quaffle, rearranging them so he could consider what group of three would work best on the field.
By the end he’d chosen Katie Bell, who of course had returned to the team because she had always been very excellent, Demelza Robins, a very dexterous Fifth Year, and Ginny Weasley, who had out flown everybody with skill that had shocked even Harry, despite watching her play over the Summer.
Luna didn’t seem fazed, however, only cheering her own with a wide, beaming grin, and Ginny waved back, too happy to be embarrassed, it seemed.
Harry was really happy with his group of Chasers, but he hadn’t managed to shake all his grumpiness yet as he’d had to shout until his voice croaked to get the rejected kids to leave, before turning to the tryouts for Beaters.
None of them had Fred and George’s skill, but none ever would. He had managed to be pleased with Third Year Jimmy Peakes with a mean swing and Fourth Year Ritchie Coote with laser good aim. However, the remaining tryouts hadn’t been all too happy, and Harry should’ve expected this as Beater’s were born to be aggressive, he supposed.
“That’s my final decision and if you don’t get out of the way of the Keepers I'll hex you!” He shouted at them with what the twins would have called ‘dulcet tones.’ It made them disperse, however, and Pansy drawled, “Ooh,” lowly up in the stands.
Gradually, the crowd had grown since breakfast and with rejected students, so that a pitch he had hoped to be empty and therefore give Ron more peace of mind was crowded with gawking students, here for Harry, and most certainly not here to start belting out “Weasley Is Our King.”
So it was that Ron raised into the sky, a delicate shade of green, and joined his applicants for Keeper, Harry watching him worriedly.
Hermione pressed her hands together in the stands, leaning forward slightly to whisper, “Come on, Ron.” Draco pressed closer to her and started to chant, in a whisper:
“Weasley can save anything,
He will block every ring,”
Five applicants went by saving barely two goals each, but Cormac McLaggen managed four out of five, unfortunately. Absurdly, on the last one, he shot off in the complete wrong direction, and for a moment Draco swore he heard someone whisper a confundus charm beside him, but when he turned around, there was only Hermione seated beside him, clapping along politely while the rest of the crowd laughed or booed around them.
“What?” She blinked innocently at him and Draco shook his head, frowning. “Nothing…” he mumbled, and turned back around; it was Ron’s turn.
“Good luck!” Hermione called out as Ron approached the goal, but at the same time, another girl’s voice rang out and she scowled, spinning around to look around and see who had just said that -
Lavender Brown stood three rows above them, standing beside her best friend Parvati who was still seated, face in her hands. She turned bright red and hid her own face behind her gold curls as well, and Hermione turned around, straightening in her seat and raising her chin.
“C’mon Weasley King!” Pansy unexpectedly shouted out beside Draco, and Hermione beamed, clearly seeing this as her way to get back at Lavender.
“You can save anything Ron, remember?” She called out, springing up from her seat, and Draco shook his head. If only he had the courage to do the same for Harry one of these days…
Ron did impressively well, blocking one, two, three, four, and then five goals, the fifth with an extravagant trick on his broom Harry was sure wasn’t an accident this time.
Harry, after dismissing McLaggen and informing him Ron had beaten him fair and square, pushed through a crowd of cheering students enveloping Ron to reach his friend, only to see he’d broken away from the crowd himself, bolting across the pitch to the front row of the stands where his friends were waiting.
“You did great -” was all Hermione managed to say before Ron had climbed up the stands and smacked a kiss on her lips, causing her to almost stumble backwards but he held onto her, wrapping one arm around her back and the other holding her face. Many people within the stands wolf whistled, whooped, and cheered, and Harry could see Ginny crossing towards them, rolling her eyes.
“I’ve wanted to do that for weeks,” Ron said when he pulled away, and those nearest who could hear him laughed heartily, Harry, Draco, and Pansy included. Luna smiled, but Hermione giggled in a way Harry had never heard her done before, and whispered, “Me too,” before leaning in to kiss him again.
The celebrations were interrupted by the pouring in of rows of green velvet robes but not before Harry managed to get the whole new team gathered an arrange a practice for the following Thursday, then Harry climbed into the stands as the crowd of viewers began to pile out, and grabbed hold of Draco’s arm, as he moved pass.
“Good luck,” He told him and the blonde laughed.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll need it,” he said, gesturing to the field. “You looked like you needed to sleep for a month out there.” Harry nodded, grimacing.
“Maybe I do…” Draco patted him on the back and pulled his broom out from under the bench, hopping out of the stands to fly down to the grass, where lines of Slytherin’s were already waiting for him.
His tryouts, thankfully, went a lot smoother than Harry’s had, which was good as Pansy had only brought one bucket of popcorn and spent most of this batch of trials cheering as these kids were actually from her House and those she knew.
Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, Harry wasn’t sure, by the end Draco had managed to replace almost his entire team.
Probably due to the fact that he was so close to him, Draco copied much of Harry’s style, sending the Slytherins through easy laps to root out the ones who couldn’t actually fly, though he didn’t have to go through half as many people, and almost all were already successful flyers. Harry doubted this had to do with anything but their rich upbringing, being Slytherins, as not one kid had to use a school broom.
All three of Slytherin’s Chasers needed fresh faces as all three had been Seventh Year’s last year, so of course most of the tryouts were Chasers, who was the case usually but there were even more than Harry had had by the time he’d kicked out all the giggling girls.
There was a large selection of the usual stereotype of burly boys Draco was smart enough to wave off, and Harry swore he heard him say something about “doing things differently” over Ron’s excited chatter with Hermione about his saves.
A taller girl with darker skin and hair stole the show by far and immediately got sent back to the stands as the first chosen Chaser, while the last group of kids faced off for the last two spots.
“I was better than that McLaggen anyway,” Ron was saying in a self-satisfied voice, as Harry watched the green robes weave through the sky, chucking Quaffles at the goal posts. “Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he’d been Confunded…” Hermione turned a deep pink at these words but Ron continued, shaking it off.
Draco ended up granting the spots to Blaise Zabini, who’d put up a good show of tricks and spins, and Fifth Year Flora Carrow, who was short and small but fierce in spirit, clearly, as Simon Vaisey walked right up to her after she was chosen, presumably to heckle her, and she’d turned and punched him in the nose before returning to her sister’s side in the stands.
The Beater’s, Harry could tell by Draco’s face even yards away, were going to be a lot more difficult, as he no doubt didn’t want to let Crabbe and Goyle down, but Harry had a feeling his image of a new team didn’t have them in it.
However, the pair must have known this, as they put up quite the impressive fight, taking down the three new chaser’s one after the other and even performing a cool trick of bouncing the ball between them. Clearly, their brawn outweighed their brains as well as their coordination with each other.
Finally, Keeper trials were a lot easier than they had been for Harry, but did end in Draco shouting himself hoarse, as he had, to get the stubborn, burly applicants who had strutted on thinking they were sure to get a spot to leave, because with their rejection and the rejection of others like Vaisey, they were pretty pissed at Draco for his new methods.
“This is how I’m doing things and if you don’t like it, then why would you want to be on a team with me as your Captain, huh?!” Draco shouted down them all, before turning and huffing to his friends, “We’re going to Hagrid’s.”
“Wha?” Ron asked, mouth stuffed with the remnants of Pansy’s popcorn, and said girl leaned forward, frowning down at him.
“Draco, why on Earth would we go visit that oaf?” She asked and Draco waved his hand at her, then Luna and Ginny, giggling and blushing like girls for good measure.
“Not you three, you three,” He pointed at Harry, Ron, and Hermione each in turn. “Hagrid’s,” he jabbed a finger out of the pitch. “Let’s go.” and he turned and trudged off, boots squelching in the mud.
As the group followed, befuddled, Draco called back to them, already headed up the path to Hagrid’s, “You’re feeling guilty about not properly talking to him, I’m feeling annoyed having to listen to it. I take you to Hagird’s, you explain how you didn’t have time for Care in your schedules, and we go on our merry way and can talk about important things like the Half-Blood Prince or the ‘Riddle Memories’ or literally anything else!” Draco threw up his hands in exasperation, then turned and planted his broom in the mud, scowling at them. “OK?”
“OK,” the Gryffindor trio chorused and he gave a stiff nod, turning and heading back up the muddy path to Hagrid’s.
“Buckbeak!” ruining his mood all the more, as soon as they got to the Hut Ron broke out at a break-neck pace and, after a hurried bow, began to stroke the Hippogriff’s beautiful gray mane of feathers.
“Oh dear,” Hermione stopped as Harry too walked ahead, looking from Draco to the bird and swallowing, though if you asked him it looked to be more of a gulp. “He’s still a bit scary, isn’t he?”
“Thank you!” Draco clapped his hand together and then held them up to the sky, as he had seen many Muggles do when staying with the Granger’s. “Thank Merlin! Hermione,” he turned and she was caught off guard by how he had said her name, not recalling a time she had ever heard him say her name, so she was still reeling from the shock when he placed his hands on her shoulders and hung his head. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”
“You’re… welcome?” She instead said cautiously, and Draco stepped back to glare at the pair of boys who were both now petting Buckbeak, laughing at him.
“For the last time this isn’t funny. Have you ever considered he might be carrying a dozen diseases?” Harry and Ron merely glanced at each other and shrugged.
“Never infected Sirius,” said Ron, and in response Buckbeak threw up his head, eyes darting everywhere. Harry stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his neck and whispering, trying to calm him down.
“Shh, he’s not here. It’s alright, he’s safe with Remus,” he said, and, after Buckbeak placed his hooves back down with a sort of horse-like snort, the door to Hagrid’s hut burst open at last, and the half-giant stuck his head out.
“What’s all the racket for?” He demanded of them, but, spotting the Quartet outside, instantly slumped. “Oh, it’s you lot,” he said, and turned and stomped back inside. He left the door open, however, so, with a cautious glance around at each other, the Quartet stepped forward.
“Not you!” Hagrid yelled as soon as Ron’s foot hit the floor, Harry and Draco already inside and Hermione poking her head around her boyfriend. “No Weasley’s or Granger’s allowed in my house, no, no. Get!”
“Hagrid it’s us,” Hermione said pleadingly but he waved one of his dustbin-sized hands to her anyway. “I said get out and I meant get out! You’re two nasty little traitors that’s what you are.”
“Oi! Who’re you calling traitors?” Ron shouted up at him, pushing down Fang who had jumped up to slobber on his face, oblivious to the tense atmosphere because, well, he was a dog after all. “Since when have you called us ‘Weasley’ and ‘Granger’?”
“Since yer decided I was too good for yer, that’s when.” Hagrid bellowed, staggering back to sit in a chair behind him, gesturing to Harry and Draco. “Harry’s loyal, and for Merlin’s sake even Malfoy thought I was something of a good teacher. But not you two,” He waved a finger between the pair. “No, no.”
“Hagrid, there was no room for it in our schedules!” Hermione cried.
“Likely story. You and Ron take the same classes, don’t try to fool me!” He yelled, pointing between Harry and Ron now, the latter instantly throwing up his hands, expecting to be yelled at as well.
“Why’d yer come anyway?” He barked at the pair, still standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Feelin’ sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?”
“We’ve missed you!” Hermione exclaimed, shaking profusely.
“Missed me, have yeh?” he snorted. “Yeah. Righ’.” He may have still sounded angry, but he did turn and start preparing tea after that, so, with a cautious glance at each other tightly holding hands for good measure, Ron and Hermione made their way into Hagrid’s small cabin and the four sat along his sofa, just in time for him to slam three bucket-sized mugs alongside a plate of his famous rock cakes before them.
Exhausted from Quidditch, Harry and Draco both jutted their hands out for the rock cakes, though the latter of course had no way of knowing to avoid them so, following a sickening crunch at the back of his mouth, he immediately placed the cake back down and sat back uncomfortably in his seat.
“Hagrid,” said Hermione, for the Care of Magical Creatures Professor they had seemingly wronged to the point of hermitting in his home had slumped to sit before them, peeling potatoes as angrily as he had been when they’d knocked on the door, still. “We really wanted to carry on with Care, you know.” He snorted, but she persisted. “We did! But Ron and I just couldn’t fit it into our schedules!”
“Yeah. Righ’.”
“Hagrid,” Hagrid perked up at the sound of Draco’s voice and, thankfully, began peeling the potatoes a little slower, though it should have been the sign of the apocalypse that he was regarded Draco more favorably than Ron and Hermione. “What are those?”
He was pointing his finger towards the back of the hut, and they all turned and jumped a little in their seats at the sight of a tub of foot-long, slimy white maggots, writhing to and fro so that they made a sort of odd squelching noise every so often.
“Jus’ giant grubs,” Hagrid grunted.
“And they grow into…?” Ron was now glancing between the barrel and Hagrid, looking very worried. He had seen a dragon hatch in this house, afterall, even Draco knew that.
“They won’ grow inter nuthin’. I got ‘em ter feed ter Aragog.” And then, with no warning whatsoever, he was crying. Big dollops of tears falling all over the freshly cut potatoes, and Hermione had leapt to her feet in an instant, Ron reaching across the table to gingerly remove the peeler from his massive hands and moving the potatoes a safe distance away, as his girlfriend hurried around the table and wrapped an arm around his shaking shoulders - as best she could, him being so broad.
“Hagrid!” she cried. “What is it?”
“It’s… him…” gulped Hagrid, hiccupping on sobs as Draco awkwardly turned to Harry with a questioning gaze, while he ranted about an ‘Aragog’ he had no clue about. “It's… Aragog… I think he’s dyin’... He got ill over the summer an’ he’s not gettin’ better… I don’ know what I’ll do if he… if he… We’ve bin tergether so long…”
As Hermione patted Hagrid’s massive shoulders Draco leaned in close to Harry and whispered, “Whose Aragog?” feeling like he’d certainly need a history lesson on all his friends' lives, even after somehow limping along without one for two years. After visiting Bob Ogden’s memory, however, it was clear he was out of the loop on most things, lately.
“Hagrid’s best friend,” Harry whispered back, as if that explained everything, and Draco really didn’t want to hear anymore, actually, as it felt like a perfectly reasonable explanation, but then Harry had to go and say: “He’s a giant spider who lives in the Forbidden Forest.”
“Oh,” Draco instead said, voice a couple octaves too high. “How… nice.”
“He tried to have his children eat us,” Ron leaned over to whisper. “His hundreds of children, mind you, all spiders.” He shivered and Draco didn’t blame him, as he nearly did the same, now looking at Hagrid with mingled confusion and fear, and mild disgust, instead of simply empathy.
“Is there - is there anything we can do?” asked Hermione, as if the three boys weren’t talking about how Aragog seemed like the last giant spider they should be helping.
“I don’ think there is, Hermione,” choked Hagrid, continuing to speak between hiccuping sobs. “See, the rest o’ the tribe… Aragog’s family… they’re gettin’ a bit funny now he’s ill... bit restive…”
“Yeah, I think we saw a bit of that side of them,” Ron muttered under his breath but Hermione sent him a sharp look.
“... I don’ reckon it’d be safe fer anyone but me ter go near the colony at the mo’,” At last Hagrid blew his nose onto his apron and he got control of his sobbing. “But thanks fer offerin’, Hermione… It means a lot.” She nodded reassuringly, backing away back to the sofa, and the Quartet gave each other more unsure glances, Draco still looking shaken from the ‘giant talking spider’ thing.
“Now I’m not fallin’ for yer ‘no time’ thing, not with these two taking it,” Hagrid said after a moment of a bit lightened atmospheric silence, “But I shouldn’t make yer keep on with a subject yer don’t like just for me.” He waved one of his large hands. “It’s alrigh’, really, I’ll be fine.”
Ron and Hermione couldn’t help releasing long sighs, or smiling with relief, and they all managed to leave ten minutes later with smiles on their faces, Hagrid waving with his own face wiped clean of tears.
However, as they reached the doors Ron crossed the threshold into the castle but Harry slipped his hand through Draco’s to stop him and grabbed Hermione’s arm as well just before she could step through.
“What?” she immediately asked in an all too defensive manner, as Harry stepped back and folded his arms disapprovingly.
“If you ask me,” Harry made sure to speak quietly, casting cautious glances at Ron. “McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting.” Hermione’s face flushed as Draco snapped his fingers, realization dawning on his face.
“And I heard someone next to me whisper something before he messed up.” He frowned at Hermione. “You were sitting right next to me.”
“Oh, all right then, I did it,” she whispered, kicking at the dirt between them with the toe of her boot. “But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he’s got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn’t get in - you wouldn’t have wanted someone like that on the team.”
“No, No, I suppose that’s true.” Harry smirked at her, leaning a little closer and playfully raising an eyebrow. “But wasn’t that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you’re a prefect, aren’t you?”
“True,” Draco folded his arms, raising his chin up at her. “I could report you for that, and I have a clean record.”
“You call not reporting to any of your duties for half of last year a clean record?” Hermione shot back and he simply shrugged his shoulders.
“Prior engagements,” he explained, and they all grinned at that, relieved to have the freedom to joke about something that had once been so horrifying.
“What are you two doing?” Ron had stepped out of the doorway, leaning against it and eyeing their laughing faces suspiciously, but they all cleared their throats and straightened up in no time. “Nothing,” the three said together in unison, and walked off with Ron into the Great Hall.
Harry had been starving when they’d went to Hagrid’s and didn’t feel any better now, having discarded the rock cakes with a little more wisdom, but before he could step towards the Gryffindor table where the smell of roast beef awaited him, Professor Slughorn suddenly had jumped before them, grinning.
“Harry, Draco, just the boys I was hoping to see!” He greeted, stopped the Quartet in their tracks with wide eyes as he twirled at the end of his mustache. “I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my room instead? We’re having a little party, just a few rising stars; I’ve got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin - I don’t know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries - and, of course, I hope very much that Ms. Granger will favor me by coming too.” He bowed slightly to Hermione with a smile, as all she could do was turn red with embarrassment.
“I can’t come, Professor,” said Harry, grateful for the first time ever that he had an excuse in the form of a detention. “I've got a detention with Professor Snape.”
“Oh dear!” His smile fell so quickly it was almost comical. “Dear, dear, I was counting on you, Harry! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you all later!” and with that he was bustling out of the Hall, no doubt on a direct course to Snape’s office.
“Harry,” Draco grabbed hold of Harry’s arm as soon as he vanished, shaking him for dear life. “How many school rules have you broken? Can’t you skip this one detention, just one!”
“It’s not like you’ll be going alone,” said Harry, ripping his arm away and trudging to the table. “You’ll have Hermione, won’t you?”
“Yes but sitting with Hermione means having to endure McLaggen’s sorry attempts at flirting with her,” He whipped his head around to his friend who was gaping at him, clearly offended, and said, completely ignoring her reaction, “He knows you’re dating Ron, right?”
“No,” said Hermione, frowning suddenly. “I only met him today. Though now I suppose he does, that kiss was rather… well… public.”
“Is anyone going to acknowledge me?” The three jumped in their skins as Ron slammed his hands down on the table from across from them, having snuck off to the other side while they were distracted in their talking and getting the exact reaction he had expected; no one had noticed. “Blimey I’m not invisible, am I? You could try to treat me like another living being sometimes, for Merlin’s sake.”
He sank into his seat and ran a hand through his hair, loading his plate with food grumpily. The other three blinked at him for a moment, before Hermione was off hurrying around the table to come and sit beside her boyfriend, tucking a lock of red hair tempted to fall onto his plate from his haphazard ruffling of his hair behind his ear and kissing him on the cheek.
“You aren’t invisible, Ron, or I wouldn’t have fallen for you, would I?” Slowly, Ron rose his head and turned to look at his girlfriend’s smiling, expectant face, and leaned a little closer to her, so that their noses were brushing.
“No, you wouldn’t,” He tilted his head and the two kissed once more, much gentler than the kiss on the field, and, awkwardly, Harry and Draco both looked away.
However, they locked eyes with each other, so had to look away again, instead turning to gaze out the windows into the dark sky. Thunder was growling overhead from the enchanted ceiling, indicating the rainstorm was kicking up again. But all the two could think about was the storm of butterflies in their stomachs.
Again, Harry recalled the Amortentia. He recalled the feelings he’d had to close the space between he and Draco on his bed at The Burrow. He recalled other times throughout the past two years he’d had the same butterflies, from the tasks to seeing Draco dressed up nicely with that wonderful vanilla scent radiating from him at the Yule Ball, to his grief at him seemingly cutting ties with him after Christmas, and the jealousy at watching Anthony snog him.
He remembered, vividly, the want to stand where Anthony was, so he could know just how much better Draco’s lips no doubt tasted then Cho Chang’s…
He cleared his throat harshly and began to shovel food in his mouth, his starvation the only thing forcing it down as otherwise he would have longed to get up and leave, just as he had at The Burrow.
Meanwhile, Draco thought of his own Amortentia smell; Harry’s messy, unruly mane of hair which was always sticking out in places, begging to have hands run through it in ways he could never do with Anthony’s curls, stuffed with Sleakeazy’s. He’d known for quite some time now of his feelings for Harry, of course, but why were things becoming so hard. Now Harry was looking at him weirdly sometimes, and it was giving him hope, and hope was not something he at all could handle. Hope meant that he’d have to face the fact that he wanted a relationship to be possible, and that would be…
The Quartet split that night in silence, Ron and Hermione still love locked and Harry stepping from Draco in silence as he turned for the dungeons.
The two looked back, however. Green eyes turned from the top of the marble stairs, and gray met them from the bottom of the steps to the dungeons, almost disappearing in the dark. They looked away from each other after a moment, but in the moment that they had locked eyes… It was painful. Devastatingly painful, and Harry was tempted even to yell out, as he had months ago last year, that he liked him. Because he did, he really did…
But then Draco looked away and was disappearing into the dark of the dungeons, and Harry was given no choice but to turn and follow his friends when they called to him.
Down in the dungeons, Draco stepped into the Common Room to find it mostly empty, only studying Fifth and Seventh Years lounging across the furniture, the rest of the Slytherins still eating at the Great Hall.
Draco made for the steps up to the Sixth Year dorms, but as he passed the table before the fireplace he saw a copy of the Evening Prophet laying there. It wasn’t the fact that it was the Prophet, as of course he considered it to be worthless rubbish, but that in an instant he recognized the mansion on the front page, even if the front of the house was burnt and charred.
Hurriedly Draco picked up the Prophet, eyes darting across the headline.
MALFOY MANOR FOUND ABANDONED
Licking his lips, Draco almost subconsciously fell backwards onto the armchair behind him, reading the paper hungrily, now.
Following many reports from various witnesses of Death Eater activity at Malfoy Manor, an investigation of the home was scheduled and a search team of Auror’s were sent out last night, September 13th. It has yielded no results, however, as it appears the mansion belonging to one of the oldest line of pureblood wizards and witches has been abandoned. “There wasn’t even a sign of struggle,” one Auror who wished to remain anonymous said at an interview this morning. “No overturned tables, no marks in the wood, nothing unusual.” “It seemed all very purposeful,” another anonymous Auror said. “They most certainly left with the intention of hiding their tracks. Without even fixing up the house. Obviously they didn’t intend to come back.” When asked about who the ‘they’ referred to, the anonymous Auror responded, “The Death Eaters, of course.” There’s no knowing for certain if the witnesses were telling the truth, but for any updates on the “Malfoy Problem” us at the Prophet will make sure to keep our readers posted.
Draco, finding no use to any of the information offered in the article - as there really was none, but one could you really expect from the Prophet? - tossed it aside with a scoff, biting down on his knuckles, hard. What exactly was he supposed to expect? Did he want his parents to get caught? No, not truly, but they weren’t really his parents anymore, were they?
-*-*-*-
Meanwhile, up in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry was just standing to leave for what would certainly turn out to be a dark, depressing, and painful detention with Snape, and Hermione was bidding him farewell while reaching into her bag to retrieve the Tales of Beedle the Bard - when he saw it.
“Hermione,” She looked up, eyebrows raised, as he bent down and pointed at the top corner of one of the pages on the book, where someone had drawn a sketch of a triangle with a circle inside, a line running down the middle. A symbol he had undoubtedly seen before. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know, actually. I assume it’s just a drawing, It kind of looks like an eye, don’t you -”
“Hermione,” He bent down before her, placing his hands on the book to lower it from her gaze so she’d look at him seriously. Ron leaned in closer from where he was scribbling out his Charms essay in curiosity. “Do you remember Draco and I telling you about Riddle’s grandfather?”
“Yeah,” said Ron as Hermione slowly nodded. “Nasty bloke, wasn’t he? Hissing and spitting?”
“Yeah well, he had a ring, and it had that symbol on it.” He pointed a finger at the page once more, “That exact thing, I’m sure of it.”
“Really?” Hermione said, looking between both her friends, then back down at the book, which they had all huddled around, full of curiosity, the symbol that did quite look like a triangular eye staring back up at them. “Well… that is all very strange, don’t you think?”
“Yes, very strange,” Harry agreed, frowning down at the symbol.