Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 12 - The Quidditch Captain

A game of Quidditch ends only when the Golden Snitch has been caught, or by mutual consent of the two team captains.

- Quidditch Through the Ages, Ch. 6

* * *

Harry sat in the Great Hall at lunch looking from his silent friend Ron to his silent friend Hermione. All through Care of Magical Creatures that morning, they'd become more and more awkward with each other. They were back to keeping Harry firmly between them. Harry wished they'd just - what? Stop acting so weird, that's what! They didn't have time for this. And that git Malfoy was watching them from across the room.

"I'd better get to my Quidditch meeting," Harry said finally, breaking a long silence. He stood.

"I better go to Magical Languages," said Hermione hastily. She stood up and was gone before Harry could point out to her that classes didn't start again for another thirty minutes. He shook his head.

"I'll see you upstairs," he said to Ron. Ron nodded absently.

Harry found his five teammates already in the Transfiguration classroom, talking animatedly. Fred and George Weasley, the two Beaters, were standing, while Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet, the three Chasers, were sitting on desks. They stood up hastily when Professor McGonagall entered, and sat down more conventionally. McGonagall glided past them and seated herself at her desk in the front of the classroom.

"You'll need to choose a new team captain," she said, "before we hold the tryouts on Saturday. I'll leave you to it." She gave them a stern look and bent her head over the papers on her desk.

Harry and the five others turned toward each other and looked doubtfully from face to face. Then Angelina shrugged.

"Well," she said, "shall we bother to have a ballot or shall we all just say it?"

"Let's just say it," said Fred, grinning. Katie, George, and Alicia all nodded. As one, they turned their heads to look at Harry.

"Harry," they all said in unison.

What? No, this wasn't right. Harry felt his mouth fall open. He had thought - he still thought - that Angelina should be the new captain. She was their star chaser, and very smart and dedicated, and everyone liked her. He had assumed that the others would see it that way, too.

"We're done," Fred told Professor McGonagall. They all started to stand up. George reached out to shake Harry's hand.

"Congratulations, Harry," he said. Harry finally found his voice.

"But -" He looked from one smiling face to another. Professor McGonagall was smiling at him as well. "How can I - I shouldn't be captain!"

"Harry," said Alicia kindly, "the best player on the team is always chosen as captain. Are you saying you're not our best player?"

Well, but... Maybe Harry was the best flyer on the team - and he was a good Seeker - but that didn't mean... He knew almost nothing about Quidditch strategy. He was usually too busy looking for the Snitch to pay much attention to how the others were scoring and preventing goals. And he was the youngest person on the team. And he had only played three years of Quidditch, while they...

It was too late. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia were already disappearing out the door. George and Fred both grinned at Harry and hurried out after them. Harry turned to Professor McGonagall, who was approaching him briskly. Surely she would see that he was the least qualified person on the whole team to be chosen as captain...

"Come along to Madam Hooch's office, Mr. Potter," she said. "I'll show you how to reserve the pitch for practice times, and how to sign out the balls. Here are the keys to the broom shed and the changing rooms." She handed him a large round ring with a few keys. Harry took it and scrambled after her as she made for the door.

"But, Professor McGonagall," he managed to say, his voice rather high-pitched, "I don't think I'm the best choice for captain. I really don't know very much about strategy at all. And they're all more experienced than I am."

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter," she said firmly, though she looked over at him with a more sympathetic expression than usual. "Your play clearly merits this honour. I'm sure you'll do fine." Her mouth thinned and she looked over her spectacles at him with a severe expression. "I have the highest expectations for the team's success this year."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry, resignedly.

*

Harry left Madam Hooch's office at a quick trot. If he hurried, he could talk to Ron about this captain business before Defence Against the Dark Arts. As he took the stairs down to the Charms corridor, Harry saw the members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team coming out of Professor Flitwick's classroom below. Cho Chang was there, looking solemn. Maybe she had just been chosen captain, too - Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw captain, had been a seventh-year last year.

WHOA! Something very bad was happening to Harry's feet. The floor was - OUCH! Harry lost his footing and fell painfully onto his back, sliding down to the bottom of the staircase. Clattering all around him were bouncing - Gobstones? Gobstones? Harry became aware of a cackle of maniacal laughter - Peeves!

"Fee fie foe fum --

Potter fell upon his bum.

Hee, hee, hee - does he look silly!

Hope he didn't break his -"

Harry's head hit the bottom banister post with a loud thump, obscuring the end of Peeves's rhyme. Several of the Gobstones shot out their foul-smelling spray directly in his face. Furious, Harry stood and wiped his spectacles on his sleeve. He glared at Peeves, who was flipping in the air above him as if he'd just eaten a dozen Weasley Tasty Tumblers. Peeves must have put Gobstones on one of the stairs, and Harry had been too preoccupied with looking at - uhh, the Ravenclaw team to notice. He opened his mouth to roar at Peeves - I could have been killed! - but suddenly swung around, forgetting what he had been about to say, when a soft hand touched his arm.

"Harry, are you all right?" asked a blurry Cho Chang, looking up at him worriedly.

Hastily, Harry wiped the rest of the Gobstone goo from his face and put his specs back on. "I'm fine. It was just Peeves..." Harry's voice trailed off as he looked into Cho's concerned face. She was so pretty. Prettier even than he remembered. She must have got prettier over the summer, somehow. Why, oh why, did he have to fall and make a fool of himself in front of her? Dimly, Harry was aware that Professor Flitwick was shaking his wand at the cackling Peeves and telling him off in his high-pitched voice. Cho's teammates were picking up the loose Gobstones.

Cho smiled. Harry stared at her wordlessly. His insides didn't feel normal now - they were twisting around like anything. He needed to say something, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"Oh, dear, Mr. Potter, are you quite all right?" Flitwick, having finally chased Peeves away, came bustling up to Harry. "Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"

"No, no," said Harry, trying not to wince at the bruises on his back and head. "No, I'm fine." Flitwick peered at him closely.

"Well, if you're sure," the tiny professor said. "Come along, Miss Oaks, we must go to Madam Hooch's office." He trotted up the staircase with a tall sixth year beside him.

"So you're not the new captain," blurted Harry. He bit his tongue, wishing he could take back his words, but Cho smiled and shook her head.

"No, Carole is." She grinned rather cheekily at him, her hair swinging like silk. "And I suppose you are?"

"Oh - oh, yeah," mumbled Harry, feeling himself colour. As Cho and several of her teammates congratulated him, he reflected that being Quidditch Captain wasn't all bad. Cho Chang seemed to think it was an okay thing to be.

'Cedric Diggory was a Quidditch captain' said a little voice inside Harry's head, as he stood watching Cho walk away. At least that means she's okay with dating rival Quidditch captains. Harry told the little voice to shut up.

He found Ron in the Gryffindor common room playing with Ginny's cat. Harry noted absently that the creature was about three times as big as it had been when Ginny first brought it home. If Harry had expected sympathy from Ron, he didn't get it.

"Of course you're the captain, what'd you think?" said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Jeez, you're as bad as Hermione with the prefect letter. It's obvious you're the most valuable player on the team."

Ginny looked up from the table where she was working and smiled. "Did you get chosen captain, Harry? Congratulations!"

"Oh, thanks," said Harry. He pulled Ron a little away and lowered his voice. "Ron - you, of anyone, know I know piss-all about strategy," he said roughly, with a flash of anger at Ron's calmness. "I can't even play decent Chaser because I don't know the plays. How am I going to tell Angelina and Alicia what to do? How am I going to tell Fred and George what to do? They'll laugh!"

"They're not gonna give you problems," said Ron comfortably, continuing to tease Raffles with the feather of his quill. "You don't have to tell them what to do - they already know. You just have to make the pre-game speech and schedule the practices and all." He grinned suddenly. "But you'd better learn it by next year - you'll have all new players then."

Harry groaned. Ron put the kitten down and dipped his head to look into Harry's face.

"You really didn't know this was going to happen, did you?" asked Ron, more sympathetically. "Harry, buck up! D'you think Oliver Wood was born knowing all about Quidditch? You can learn it, Harry - you're a natural player and you love the game. I'll help you. I have some books, and we can borrow some of Charlie's - he was captain for three years, you know. Hey" - Ron brightened - "maybe you can get some advice from him, when he gets to Scotland."

Harry felt a bit better. Ron thought it would be okay. Maybe it would be. Being Quidditch Captain couldn't possibly be as hard as being a Triwizard Champion. It was just a thing. He'd have to work at it. After all, it was very important that the Gryffindor Quidditch team should win. It was worth a lot of effort. Harry grinned.

"Thanks, Ron!"

"Any time, mate. Come on, let's go see how Annie does."

*

By habit, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to the first-row seats in Defence Against the Dark Arts that they'd sat in during pseudo-Moody's tenure. Anne Weasley was striding back and forth across the front of the classroom, looking flushed and nervous - and rather pretty. Dean and Seamus both gave Ron a surreptitious thumbs-up as he passed them on the way to his seat - apparently they thought Professor Weasley looked good, too.

"This should be interesting," whispered Hermione out of the side of her mouth. "Ginny's already had her, and she said it was great."

Harry nodded, noting with amusement that he was once more sitting between his two friends. Ruddy cowards! Professor Weasley stopped pacing and clapped her hands together.

"All right," she said briskly, "My name is Anne Weasley and I'm going to be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. Let me tell you about myself. After I left Hogwarts, I spent five years with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Beast Division, most of it in Africa. Since then, I've put in seven years with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I've seen the damage beasts can do, and I've seen the damage wizards can do, and I can tell you, the wizards are a lot more dangerous." She glared at Lavender, who was whispering behind her hand to Parvati. "I mean wizards and witches, of course."

She put her hands on her hips, and looked them all in the eye in turn. I understand that your professor last year taught you some Shield Charms and Counter-curses." Harry noticed the way she said 'your professor last year.' It sounded like she knew it was the fake Moody, but didn't know if her students knew. "That's good, and we'll be continuing with that," she went on, "but - who can tell me what is the single best defence against a curse thrown at you?" She looked sharply around the room. "Anybody?" Hermione was muttering to herself, frantically trying to come up with the correct answer. "Nobody? All right, I'll show you."

Professor Weasley suddenly pulled out her wand and pointed it threateningly at Ron. He ducked instinctively as she shot red sparks at his face, and they dispersed harmlessly over his head.

"That's right, Mr. Weasley," she said calmly. "Five points to Gryffindor. Ducking is the best defence. The next best is hiding behind something. Then come Counter-curses and Shield Charms. Then" - she raised her eyebrows - "running away." The class laughed, but Harry didn't. He was thinking of his last encounter with Voldemort. Running away did work sometimes. His lip twitched with bitter humour. She's left out Priori Incantatem. That works, too.

"Listen," she said. "For the past seven years, I've been dealing with new recruits from this fine institution. Let me tell you one thing. They're top-drawer when it comes to changing hedgehogs into pincushions. But when it comes to subduing a suspect, or recognizing an ambush before they walk right into it..." She shook her head sadly, as if their schoolmates' ineptitude was too deep for words to express. "But you," she said, "when you finish this year, you are going to be in shape, your reflexes are going to be trained, and you'll by golly know what to do if someone grabs you from behind!" She looked at their surprised faces and grinned slightly. "Or you won't be passing this course," she finished more calmly.

Professor Weasley floated the big wooden desk aside to clear a space at the centre of the front of the room. In its place, she conjured an orange mattress on the floor. The students all craned their necks, looking at the mattress with deep suspicion. "Which one of you is Mr. Finnigan?" she asked, looking straight at Seamus as she said it. Seamus raised his hand, looking alarmed. "Come up here, please."

Seamus gulped and came slowly to the front of the classroom. Professor Weasley stood at the end of the mattress with her back to Seamus. "Come up and grab me from behind," she instructed calmly. Seamus gaped.

"Uh, how?" he asked, after opening and closing his mouth a couple of times. She rolled her eyes, but didn't look at him.

"Pretend you're a vampire, and you want to bite my neck," she said sharply. "Pretend I've got a bagful of Galleons that you want to get away from me. I don't care how you do it, just attack me!"

Seamus approached her hesitantly. She was of about medium height and he was a couple of inches taller than her. Finally, he took a deep breath and threw an arm around her throat. Or, rather, he tried to - as soon as he made his move, she grabbed his arm, threw him over her back, and slammed him down on the mattress, standing over him with her wand end shoved threateningly into his solar plexus. The class applauded, while Seamus gasped, his face going from white to bright red.

Professor Weasley stood back, and Seamus scrambled to his feet. "Another five points to Gryffindor for Mr. Finnigan's good sportsmanship. From now on," she said, "all of you should come to class appropriately dressed for these kind of exercises." Her eyes scanned the class. "Trousers, not skirts. Trainers. Your hair confined. No jewellery. Points will be taken if your attire is not suitable." She looked disapprovingly at the bracelets on Parvati Patil's wrists. Parvati clasped them defensively, as if she expected them to be taken from her, and stared haughtily back. Professor Weasley relaxed slightly and smiled.

"I know most of you are not planning to go into law enforcement," she said in a more conciliating voice, looking from Parvati's glare to Hermione's wide shocked eyes. "I understand that. But it's a big scary world out there. There are bad people - these are not good times. I don't want you to be a helpless victim. I want you to be able to fight back."

She dusted off her hands and went to sit at her desk. "One of your seats will be booby-trapped with a Scalding Spell when you return for your next class," she said. "For homework, please research Hex Detection and Disarmament. Class dismissed." She smiled happily at them as if she'd just promised a special treat. Harry was reminded of Hagrid and his Blast-Ended Screwts.

"Man, she is way cool!" said Seamus enthusiastically, as soon as they were out of earshot. "This is going to be a brilliant class." Ron and Dean nodded agreement. Parvati shot Seamus a look of disdain and whispered something in Lavender's ear. Hermione and Neville looked intrigued, but alarmed. Harry grinned as Hermione headed to Arithmancy and the rest of them trooped off to Divination. For himself, he thought it was going to be a brilliant class, too.

*

Once more, Harry, Ron, and Hermione edged behind the fourth-floor mirror after dinner and lighted their wands. Harry had watched Malfoy carefully as they slipped out of the Great Hall - Malfoy had been talking to an older Slytherin boy and hadn't seemed to notice them leaving.

"All right," said Ron. "Where do we want to set it to look? I think we should make it look at the corridor outside here, so we can see when it's safe to bloody open the mirror and go out." This had caused them a lot of problems the night before.

"Don't swear, Ron," said Hermione automatically. "What good would that do us? Let's just try to set it for here right now, until we figure out how to work it." She knelt on the floor and held the ball off the ground with one hand, and her wand in the other hand.

"Oculo Initio," she said firmly. Nothing happened. Hermione handed the ball to Harry. "Here hold this." She pulled a piece of parchment out of her bag.

"What's that?" asked Harry. He was disappointed - he'd really thought that Oculo Initio would work.

"I made a list of possible phrases while I was waiting for my Magical Languages class to start," said Hermione. She pointed her wand at the ball.

"Oculo Instituo."

"Oculo Statuo."

"Oculo Primo."

"Oculo Visio."

Fifteen minutes later, she was still at it. Harry and Ron were leaning against the dusty wall, speculating on what Malfoy would do first when he found the Revealall gone.

"No way he can go to Dumbledore," said Ron. "This thing is illegal, after all."

"Specto Aperio."

"Do you think he'll tell his father? Or would he be too embarrassed about losing it so soon?" asked Harry.

"Vidio Primo."

"Vidio Constituo."

"That big baby?" said Ron scornfully. "Of course he'll go crying to Daddy. Uh, can't you give it a rest with the Latin, Hermione? Try some other language."

"I'm going through my list," said Hermione with asperity. "It should be similar to the other two commands - but perhaps you'd care to take over?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," said Ron, looking a little taken aback. "Uh," he pointed his wand at the ball, "Open Sesame!" Nothing happened, of course. Harry laughed, and Hermione picked up her list again with a sniff. "No, wait, let me think," Ron said. "What would I do, if I was selling such a useful, beautiful product? I know!" Ron grinned, put his wand to the ball with a flourish, and intoned, "Oh wise and all-seeing globe, Reveal All!"

The dark cloudy globe flashed bright purple, and then a scene appeared in it - three dusty young people holding lit wands and looking astonished. Ron wiped the surprised expression off his face first.

"There, you see - nothing to it," he said smugly. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. Ron peered more closely. "Oh, look, this is really cool!" he said. "You can see us in here looking at the ball with us in it looking at the ball with us in it looking at the ball - it goes on forever."

Hermione snatched the Revealall away before Harry could see this properly. She went back in the tunnel a little bit and held the ball up high.

"Reveal All," she said, tapping it with her wand. There was another flash of purple, and a scene from the new perspective appeared.

"Makes sense, really," said Ron casually, "to use the name of the thing. It's written right on it." He gave Hermione a sly grin, but she refused to look at him.

"Oculo Obscuro," she said curtly, putting the Revealall down on the ground.

"Well, at least it's not pointing to our table in the common room any more," said Harry. "So, what do we do with it now?"

They decided to leave the Revealall in the tunnel until they could decide on the best way to use it. Harry was relieved - he still felt distinctly queasy about it being stolen property.

*

The next morning, at breakfast, Hermione had an owl. Ron stretched over Harry to see as she opened the letter. Harry looked at it too.

Dear Miss Granger,

The Head Girl and the Head-Boy-in-Trust request the pleasure of your company at the Annual Prefects' Dinner in the private room of the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade at 8 o'clock PM this Saturday the ninth of September.

Coaches will be at the front steps at 7:40 PM on Saturday to take you to the Inn and return you afterwards. Dress is formal.

Please respond with regrets only.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M, McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"What does that mean, 'Head-Boy-in-Trust'?" asked Harry.

Hermione was staring down at the envelope the letter had come in. She answered absently.

"The professors had already chosen Cedric Diggory to be Head Boy this year, before - the third task. They asked Hugh Summers, Cedric's best friend, to serve as Head Boy in his honour."

"I hadn't heard that. That's kind of nice," said Ron. Harry was silent, feeling sick as he always did at any mention of Cedric.

"It was Professor Sprout's idea," said Hermione, still sounding strangely detached. "Terry thinks she just didn't want to lose the Head Boy-ship from Hufflepuff."

Ron's eyes narrowed at the mention of Terry Boot, but Harry was the first to speak.

"Why are you staring at that envelope, Hermione?" Hermione laid the envelope in front of him without answering, and he looked at it. It was an absolutely typical Hogwarts envelope, addressed in elaborate curls of green ink on heavy parchment.

Miss H. Granger

Girls' Dormitory, Top Floor

Gryffindor Tower

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Too bad it doesn't say which bed," said Ron with a grin. Harry shot him a stern look and returned to the envelope. It reminded him of the first letter he'd ever received - 'Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea.' He still had that envelope among his few treasured keepsakes. Suddenly, Harry gasped and looked at Hermione. She looked back grimly.

"H. Potter," she said slowly, "The Kitchen, 7 Larkspur Drive."

"It wasn't the same handwriting," he protested. "And it didn't say 'Mr.'" Harry felt a roaring in his ears as - against his will - a scenario formed in his mind...

Hulking Crabbe or Goyle Senior in Diagon Alley, reporting in. "Okay, we've done it, now where do we send the letter to the Potter brat?"

Someone - Professor McGonagall?!? - at Hogwarts, reading off calmly, "Mr. H. Potter, The Kitchen, 7 Larkspur Drive..."

Crabbe or Goyle faithfully copying it down on an envelope - disguising his handwriting - too stupid to think to omit the part about the kitchen - and turning it in to the Owl Post.

... Harry looked at the head table. Professor Dumbledore wasn't there. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Snape, who was standing beside her chair. They both looked annoyed.

"What are you two on about?" asked Ron.

Without a word, Harry and Hermione each took one of Ron's arms and urged him out into the entrance hall. Harry took a hard look at the Slytherin table as they left - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all watching them leave. Malfoy's lip twitched in a smirk. Hermione led them to the niche behind a coat of armour by the front doors.

It took just a few seconds to make Ron as upset as they were. Harry leaned toward him urgently.

"Have you ever seen letters from anywhere but Hogwarts that use addresses like that - telling which room you're in, and everything?" Ron shook his head slowly, his face white.

"No," he said. "It's just a Hogwarts thing, as far as I know. I think they have some kind of magical contraption to address envelopes."

"They do," said Hermione slowly. "It was invented by the great Headmistress Elvira Dunsinghame in the 1700's. It's one of the heirlooms of Hogwarts." She looked at the two of them in turn, trying to smile. "It tells all about it in Hogwarts, A History."

*

"There's no way - no way - Professor McGonagall would be involved in burning down my house," Hermione protested. They were nearly running toward the fourth floor, arguing quietly but fiercely. People coming out of the Great Hall had made conversation impossible in the niche behind the coat of armour. They had decided to talk in the secret tunnel until they had to go to class.

"I'm not saying she would," said Ron. "A lot of people could have access to the thing. Maybe it's one of the house elves." Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to reply, but Ron cut her off. "All I'm saying is, let's put the Revealall in her office, and we'll see."

"Oh, you think we're going to catch Professor McGonagall using it like that again?" asked Hermione, sarcastically. "Maybe she does it all the time. Maybe she's Voldemort's secretary!" She was panting a little trying to keep up with them; Harry slowed the pace he was setting.

"Don't be stupid, Hermione," hissed Ron. "We'll see where she keeps it, how secure it is, who has access to it - all that kind of stuff."

"Are you seriously saying we should plant an eavesdropping device in our Head of House's office?" asked Hermione incredulously. "They'd kick us out of school so hard we'd land in America!"

"Hush, you two," said Harry, as they arrived at the mirror. He looked around carefully, but the corridor was deserted - almost everyone was still at lunch. "Curiouser and curiouser," he whispered.

The mirror swung open and they climbed in. But there was no need to decide whether or not to bug Professor McGonagall's office. The Revealall was gone.

* * *

Next Chapter: Potions Class

In which Harry discovers if Professor Snape's attitude toward him has changed at all and the Trio prioritizes their free time.