Dance With Me Harry

DANCE WITH ME HARRY

By Aerie22

CHAPTER 14

Beater Cage

"Mister Potter," Moody said with a nod.

"Professor Moody," Harry replied.

Harry didn't know what to expect. It was a little after 4:00 in the afternoon. He had finished his Charms class, the last class of the day, moments before and sauntered down to the dungeons to a special room as Moody had instructed. Harry didn't know if he liked the idea of getting special tutoring from Moody. He was sure that it would involve mysterious doings and pain. Lots of pain.

"Mister Potter, you've had instructions on defensive charms, I presume," Moody said with his characteristic drawling Scottish burr.

Harry nodded.

Moody nodded in return. "En garde!" he shouted and whipped out his wand.

Harry, in a blur of motion, had his wand out before Moody cast his first spell, easily parrying a series of hexes.

Moody stopped and nodded again. "Very good. You're quick with your wand."

Harry chuckled. "You can thank 'Quick Draw' Snape for that," he said with a smile.

Moody blinked his good eye while his magic eye seemed to dart back and forth furiously. "He warned you?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Warned me about what?"

Moody cast an appraising glance Harry's way. "What do you mean, 'Quick Draw' Snape? And it's Professor Snape, if you please."

Harry blushed. "Sorry. It's just that Professor Snape and I had a...well, a discussion on Monday. And he showed me how the American cowboys used to duel. How they had to draw their pistols quickly and shoot at each other in the streets."

Moody snorted. "And I suppose he showed you his fancy wand twirling, the showoff," he said dismissively.

Harry blushed and nodded.

"I didn't know you were so chummy with our Potion's master."

Harry shrugged. "Well, not exactly. He just showed me that stuff and then challenged me not to try it for 24 hours."

Moody snorted again, this time with a smile. "How long did you last?"

Harry hung his head, blushing. "About ten minutes. Cost Gryffindor 10 house points," he said glumly.

Moody gave a cackling laugh that sent chills up Harry's spine. "Well, laddie, keep up the practicing. Severus may love his theatrics, but that 'quick draw,' as you call it, comes in handy in tight situations. Come here, now."

Harry followed Moody to the back of the room. Moody waved his wand at a blank section of the wall and a door appeared. "Come on, lad. You'll love this."

Harry followed Moody into a small room. "You recognize this?"

Harry looked at the room. It was like entering the inside of a sphere with irregularities on the wall. There seem to be little lumps and protrusions spaced about a foot apart around the entirety of the wall. Harry blinked a couple times. "Looks like a small beater cage."

Harry was familiar with beater cages. Quidditch players would enter the beater cage with a spent bludger and a broom set to hover. They would mount the broom and launch the bludger, which would be charmed to travel in a straight direction. The bludger would hit the wall and bounce off in irregular directions. It would be the player's job to hit the bludger if it came within reach. Depending on the speed of the bludger, the cage would give a good simulation of game conditions and hone the beater's reflexes as he or she would continually fend it off. Harry had tried the cage a couple times without a bat and got stung a few times when the practice broom did not respond to his commands as quickly as his own to avoid bludgers coming directly at him. Harry hated beater cages.

Moody began his cackling laugh again. "Aye, 'tis a variation on the beater cage. But instead of a bludger, we have a hard rubber ball. It's your job to throw up a charm to block the ball as it comes off the wall. It responds to the standard blocking charm. It'll give you a workout and show what yer made of."

As Harry looked around the room, he heard a distinctive click. Moody had locked him in. Suddenly, a black rubber ball bounced in front of him and headed for a wall behind and to Harry's left. He spun and hit the ball with a charm as it came off the wall. It instantly changed direction and Harry hit it again with a blocking charm as it again ricocheted.

Harry continued to hit the ball with blocking charms on each rebound for several minutes when he noticed it was picking up speed. Suddenly, he was sweating and occasionally missing the ball, dodging to avoid being hit. He was nine minutes into the exercise when he was hit for the first time, feeling a sting on his right bicep. He didn't recover in time and was hit again on the back of the left thigh. He recovered and began frantically casting blocking charms, managing to avoid the ball for nearly a minute before he missed again. The ball was now a blur and Harry began to panic. Finally, he cast a full body shield and screamed.

The rubber ball fell to the floor and bounced a few times before coming to rest. The hidden door opened and Moody strode in, his good eye wide. "Thirteen minutes and 42 seconds. That's excellent. Didn't think you'd last more than five or six minutes."

Harry gave Moody an angry look. "Is that your idea of fun? Is this supposed to be some sort of a joke? Well I don't think it was funny. I'll be bruised for a week!"

Moody chuckled. "Nae, lad. Getting hit with the ball ain't nearly as painful as getting hit with a hex. And judging by what's out there waiting for you, a hex is the least of yer problems. But you did well, laddie. I'm amazed that you could last so long yer first time."

"You make it sound like there'll be a second time," Harry said with a scowl, rubbing his bruised upper arm, refusing to give Moody the satisfaction of seeing him rub his bruised backside.

"Aye, there'll be other times. But not right away. This was just a preliminary test to see what you got. And you got plenty, laddie. But now we'll concentrate on yer blocking charms."

Harry, sulking, sat down gingerly where Moody indicated and proceeded to begin a new, intensive course in blocking and shielding charms.

* * *

"Come on, Ron. You might make the team as a keeper, but you'd be better off as a reserve chaser," Harry explained to his best friend. Ron desperately wanted to make the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year, but Harry was worried about the long-term health of the team. "Ron. You're a mediocre keeper. You might give Percy a challenge in games at the Burrow, but I don't think you're going to make it as a keeper here. But you're a great chaser. With your size and strong hands, you'll be nearly unstoppable once you get a little practice against this level of competition."

Ron looked down, sulking. "But I want to play this year," he complained.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "You will play, although not in regular games unless there's an injury. Look, I told you that Angelina agreed to field a full reserve team. She isn't going to have time to devise all the elaborate plays the way Oliver Wood did in the past. So we'll be practicing standard sets of plays over and over again. And I talked her into fielding a full reserve team so we can practice against live competition. So every practice will be like a real match. The only exception will be multiple times out to go over mistakes or try something new on the spur of the moment."

Ron pouted. "So who's a better keeper than me," he said petulantly.

"Huddleston," Harry said flatly.

"Huddleston? A third year?"

Harry nodded. "I've seen him play in informal practices. He's got talent and he's almost as tough as you. And he's more agile," Harry said in as firm and honest tone as he could muster.

Ron grunted, his head lowered. "I'm agile," he said sulkily.

Harry reached out and grabbed his best friend's shoulder. "Who's the best keeper in your family?"

Ron pulled his shoulder out of Harry's grasp. "Charlie, probably," he said in a low voice.

Harry nodded. "What about Fred? Or George?"

Ron continued to pout. "They're beaters."

"They're also reserve keepers," Harry said softly.

Ron sighed. "So I'm not going to make the team," he said, his eyes beginning to cloud up.

Harry sighed. "You'll make it as a reserve chaser. You may even give Alicia a run for her money. But you're better off as a reserve chaser than putting all your efforts into trying for keeper and failing. You'll be playing twice a week against the best Hogwarts has to offer and by next year, you'll be ready to take the school by storm. And there's no chance you'll ever go pro as a keeper. But I've seen you as a chaser. You work on your skills and there's a good chance you might be able to take the next step."

Ron looked up suddenly. "What?"

Harry looked intently at his friend. "You are a very good chaser. You have the potential to be a great one, if you're willing to work at it. I've seen some of the moves you've made at the Burrow and you've got the talent. You've got the quickness, the coordination and the hands of a great chaser. And you've got two things that you can't practice for: size and fearlessness. What you need is the discipline and the practice. And you won't get that as a keeper or someone who has to sit out another year because he tried out for the wrong position."

Ron looked away and off into the distance. "So we'll be playing regular matches in practice?"

Harry nodded. "That's the plan. Angelina is going to be so busy as Head Girl that she's not going to be another Oliver Wood. And next year, we're losing all three chasers and both beaters. So there'll be an open field for you if you work at it this year."

Ron's eyes now showed some fire. "Oh, I'll work at it. What's the first step?"

Harry chuckled evilly. "Ever been in a beater cage?"

* * *

Ron entered the common room rubbing his bruised arms. "I hope you enjoyed that, Potter," Ron said over his shoulder with a groan.

Harry, following his best friend into the common room, grabbed Ron's shoulders and gave them a squeeze. Ron winced. As the two walked slowly through the common room, Harry leaned forward and whispered with a leer into Ron's ear. "I'll bet you if you ask really nice, Parvati would be glad to massage those kinks out of your back and shoulders."

"Oh, shut up," Ron growled. "Now I know why they call the cage the torture chamber."

Harry chuckled. "Come on, Ron. It was only the quaffle. Maybe tomorrow, you can grab my two firsties, Mike and Steve, and introduce them to the cage with live bludgers."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah," he said with an evil grin. "But right now, I'm going to take a nice hot shower. I'll see you in about three days."

Harry laughed and watched his friend disappear up the stairs to the dorms. Then he looked around the room to see what was going on. It was early in the term and there was little in the way of homework yet, especially as most of the professors were spending the first week on reviews of matter covered in previous years to get the fifth years up to speed for their O.W.L.s at the end of the year.

Hermione, of course, wasn't there, but up in the library. Seamus and Dean were playing exploding snap and talking quietly. Lavender and Parvati were deep in conversation in the corner. But Neville was alone on a couch along the back wall, reading with a puzzled expression.

Suddenly, Snape's lecture of a few days before hit Harry. He rarely talked to Neville one-to-one. He never ignored the boy when it came to group activities, but never paid him much personal attention.

Harry wandered over and sat down next to his clumsy roommate. "Hey, Neville. What's up?"

Neville looked up and smiled. "Oh, hi, Harry. Just going over our Potions assignment."

Harry looked over at Neville's text. Nearly every other sentence was underlined and there were notes that nearly filled the margins. Harry took a deep breath. "I hate Potions."

Neville colored. "Me, too. I don't mind the studying. I like Herbology and this is just an extension of a lot of Herbology. But I get so flustered in class that I always mess up."

Harry noticed that Neville was staring at the page in his text without seeing. He leaned back and sighed. "I guess Snape just likes to pick on us."

Neville nodded.

Harry thought furiously about what to say. Finally, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Why do you let Snape get to you?"

Neville head came up and gave Harry a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you seem to do well in most of your other classes and you do great in Herbology. So why do you let Snape intimidate you?"

Neville blinked and looked down again. He gave a vague shrug. "I don't know. I guess I feel he's out to get me. And I get...I don't know...flustered."

Harry nodded. "So, instead of concentrating on the potion you're preparing, you're thinking about how Snape will react to it."

Neville looked up again, this time directly at Harry. "Yeah. I guess."

Harry continued to concentrate on what he should say. "You're not making potions to please Snape. You're making them to learn how to do it."

"I don't get it?"

"If you're worrying how people, like Snape, will react to what you're doing, you can't concentrate on what you should be doing. You're letting him distract you from making your potion. So next class, ignore him and just focus on making the potion."

Neville was concentrating now. "But....what if...what if he calls on me to recite?"

Harry sighed. "You know, during the summer, I learned about the martial arts. It's a sort of oriental form of Muggle self defense."

Neville looked at him blankly. "What does that have to do with Potions?"

Harry looked at his friend intently. "It taught me to focus, to discipline my mind to concentrate on what's important. Like, if you're in a fight, you concentrate on what your opponent is doing. You don't look around and admire the scenery or the onlookers. Soon, you become able to focus on your opponent without trying. Then you can worry about using a small piece of your mind on other things, like other potential opponents who might be sneaking up on you."

Neville nodded, then shook his head. "I still don't get it."

Harry took another deep breath. "Concentrate on your potion. If Snape asks you a question and you're too focused to notice, I'm sure that Hermione or whoever else is nearby will let you know. But practice concentrating at the matter at hand first. Once you master that, then you can start practicing keeping your ear open for other things."

Neville fidgeted. "How do I practice this concentration?"

Harry frowned. "Well, you can start just by reading your text. Just focus solely on what you're reading. Don't think about what you have to know in class, or what Snape wants, or whether the Slytherins will laugh...they prefer to laugh at me anyway. Just concentrate on what you are reading. Try to understand how the ingredients are prepared and used and what the potion is used for. Nothing else."

Neville nodded. "That works for anything?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess. It works for me in Quidditch. I'm getting a little better in spotting the snitch...in practice anyway. We'll see what happens in a match," he said with a chuckle.

"You do this all the time?" Neville asked with eyebrows arched.

Harry giggled. "Well, not really. I'm not that disciplined. But I'm trying to do it more and more. Like at the stonecutter's test."

Neville's face split into a grin. "Now I think I know what you're talking about. Professor Flitwick was funny and so nice. And he explained about what I had to do and I just did it. And I did pretty good. That's what Professor Flitwick said."

Harry nodded. "I heard him say that about you, too," he said with a smile.

Neville's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Harry nodded, still smiling. "Just shows what we can do when we concentrate."

Neville closed his eyes. "My parents would have been happy."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Ahhh...Neville. I know about your parents," he said in a soft, tentative voice.

Neville slowly looked up in surprise. "You do?" he said in an equally soft voice.

Harry nodded, looking down. "Dumbledore told me right after Barty Crouch Jr. almost killed me and was given the dementor's kiss. Right after the TriWizard Tournament."

Neville lowered his head. "He did it to my parents. He almost did it to me."

Harry reached over to grab Neville's shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. "If you ever need to talk about it, you can talk to me."

Neville shrugged. "I don't mind talking about it. It's just that I never thought anyone was all that interested," he said in a shaky voice.

Harry nodded. "Like me and the Dursleys. It's a pretty nasty story, so I never thought anyone wanted to hear it. I didn't want to talk about it because I thought they would think I was just whining," he said with a dry, mirthless laugh.

Neville continued to nod. "So you know how it is."

Harry nodded again. "I don't know what's worse. Growing up not knowing anything about your parents, even what they looked like, or growing up knowing they're alive but can't talk to you or anything like real parents."

Neville slumped down on the couch. "They're real skinny, now. The nurses at St. Mungo's feed them and turn them and everything, but they look so tiny. And my dad was so big. My mum, too, although I was real small when it happened."

"You were there," Harry said in a distant voice.

Neville nodded. "I was very little at the time. I remember him coming out of the darkness and hitting them both with a curse. I jumped out between him and them. I remember screaming at him and then he hit me with a curse. And I remember the pain. Then nothing. I woke up the next day with my grandma and a bunch of strangers. I didn't see my mum and dad for months and when I did, I cried when they wouldn't wake up for me. I still feel like crying sometimes now, but my grandma says crying does no good. So I don't do it much anymore."

Harry sighed. He was a little upset at how flat Neville's recitation was. Clearly, the boy had so much bottled up inside that one of these days he might burst. "Neville. Your grandma is wrong. Crying won't bring your parents back. But it will help you. I used to think it was bad to cry. The Dursleys, particularly my uncle, would yell at me if I cried over something. And my aunt would tell me it's a sign of my mental instability. But at the end of my first year here, Hagrid gave me a photo album of my folks and me when I was first born. I took it home and looked at it often. And I cried a lot in my cupboard, then in my own room when I finally got one. And I always felt better after I cried when I was at the Dursleys during summers. And my foster parents, Tony and Mae, told me I shouldn't hold back when feel the need to cry. Tony's a priest, so he should know about these things. So I think it's good to cry every once in a while."

Neville looked at Harry with glistening eyes. "You think so?" he said in a breaking voice.

Harry nodded. "And you know what else might help? I saw on the Muggle tele about how talking to people in comas was good for them, and good for the people doing the talking. So maybe we can find a way for you to talk to your Mum and Dad, even if they can't hear you. You know, through a recording charm or something."

Neville sighed. "I'd like that. You know, you can do that through your wand. Talk for as long as the charm works and then you can listen to it later by activating the charm on the wand again. My grandma used to do that with me all the time. She always said that I didn't get things the first time I heard it so she would give me her wand and make me listen to her lectures over and over again."

Harry's eyes took on a new life. "Well, maybe we can do that. You can do the charm and tell your parents all about school and your friends and what's going on and anything on your mind and then owl it to St. Mungo's and ask a nurse to activate the charm so your parents can listen."

Neville tilted his head in disappointment. "But they can't hear anything."

Harry looked at Neville. "Nobody knows if people in a coma can hear anything or not. There have been rare cases..." but Harry stopped. He didn't know if the Longbottom's had suffered irreversible brain damage from their prolonged exposure to Barty Crouch's cruciatus curse, so he felt it would be cruel to get Neville's hopes up. "Well, there've been cases where the people talking to friends or relatives in a coma have found peace...I think they call it closure. It might help."

Neville's eyes became brighter. "That would be nice. I still think of them all the time. And it would be nice to be able to send them messages, to tell them things, even if they can't hear it. My grandma doesn't usually let me just talk to them when I visit. She says it's foolishness. But I think I'd like that," he said with a sigh. Then his face fell. "But I don't have a spare wand. My grandma got me this one, and I need it for school."

Harry leaned back and blew a deep breath out of his cheeks and looked around the common room. He looked back at Neville. "I don't know. Maybe there's a spare wand around. Or we can get you another."

Parvati, who was passing by the two boys with Lavender on her way up to their dorm, suddenly stopped. "Did I hear you need a wand?" she asked quietly, looking at Harry.

Harry glanced up in surprise. "What?"

Parvati, who was now rejoined by Lavender, looked around the common room to see if anyone was listening. She then sat down on the couch next to Harry, and Lavender joined her, sitting on the arm of the couch. She leaned forward. "I was just passing by and I heard you saying that you needed a spare wand," she said in a soft whisper.

Neville was now leaning forward toward Parvati, who he watched with a wary eye. "Not Harry. Me," he said in a low tone.

Parvati gave Neville an understanding smile. "Finally giving up on that hunk of wood you're now using?"

Harry leaned forward. "No, Parvati," he said firmly.

The pretty girl in the long braid eyed Harry. "Well, what's this about?"

Harry gave her a speculative look. "You have a spare wand?"

Parvati leaned back and gave Lavender a quick glance. Lavender gave a half shrug and nodded. Parvati turned back to Harry. "I might. What for?"

Harry looked at Neville, who gave him a nod. Harry turned back to Parvati. "Look. I don't want this to go any farther than the three...I mean the four of us, okay?"

Parvati gave Harry a speculative look of her own, and then nodded. "Sure."

Harry nodded. "Neville would like to have a spare wand to send his parents voice messages. You know, using a recording charm."

Parvati's eyes widened in shock and looked at Neville. "I thought your parents were dead," she whispered in an urgent voice.

Neville shook his head. "They're in a coma. Have been for eleven years. But Harry says that people in comas might be able to hear voices. It may comfort them...or at least give me a chance to talk to them about what's on my mind," he said, a tear suddenly appearing on his left cheek.

Suddenly, Parvati's eyes filled. "Uhhhh...I've got a spare wand if you need it, Neville."

Neville's eyes took on a new life. "Really? I can pay you a little now and maybe I can get the rest from my grandma soon."

Parvati got up and grabbed Neville's hand. "I'm not selling it to you. I'd be glad to give it to you. As a friend. It's not a top quality one, but it is perfectly usable for recording charms and basic spells."

Neville blinked. "Really?"

Parvati squeezed Neville's hand. "Of course. I've got it in my dorm. I can go get it now, if you'd like."

"I'll get one," Lavender said abruptly, and suddenly ran up the stairs to their dorm.

Harry moved over on the couch to make room for Parvati between him and Neville. She smiled and sat down and turned to Harry. "And look, you. Not a word of this to anyone," she said with a smile and gave Harry a playful pinch.

Harry squirmed and laughed. "Don't tell me. You two run a black market ring out of your dorm room. Under the nose of your prefect, no less," he said chuckling,

He got another pinch for his trouble. "Listen, Potter. I'm doing this as a friend of Neville's. But you. You owe me for this. Next time I need a date for the Yule Ball, you're taking me. And this time, you're going to dance with me," she said with an evil grin.

"I don't know. Getting stuck with an old maid like you again..." Harry said with a laugh.

Parvati blushed. "Listen, you prat. The only reason I went to the Ball with you last year was because I just tossed that jerk Kevin Entwhistle in the dustbin the week before you asked. Apparently, word hadn't got out that the prettiest witch in fourth year was available, or you would have had to go with your thick-headed mate, Ron."

Harry laughed. "No way. We'd never have found a gown to fit him in time."

Neville began laughing at the by-play. Parvati turned to Neville and then back to Harry. "No, I wouldn't think that would have been necessary. You could have borrowed one of mine...for you!"

Lavender returned with a small box wrapped in a scarf to find the three somber housemates she had left moments before convulsed in laughter.