Harry Potter and the Deadly Deception

Chapter 6 - Chasers and Seekers

The rest of Harry's first week back at Hogwarts hadn't progressed much better than his first day. He spent most of his time alone; no one in any of the other houses wanted much to do with him, because he was new and he was a Slytherin. One or two of his fellow Slytherins had made attempts to draw him into conversation, but mostly they wanted to know about Durmstrang and the Dark Arts. They asked if he knew this spell or that spell, and whether or not Durmstrang was "cooler" than Hogwarts. Harry's replies were terse at best; when he was already annoyed, he was downright rude to them. He knew he wouldn't win any friends in this manner, but he didn't know if he wanted to make friends in Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to share only a few brain cells between them. They spoke mostly in grunts and sentences of three words or less. Nott was usually quiet, but he had shifty eyes. Then there was Malfoy.

Harry was surprised by how civil Malfoy had been to him, especially in light of their exchange on the first morning of classes. He had been certain that Malfoy would take his admission that his mother was Muggle-born and run with it, subjecting Harry to the same disdain and scorn that he had every other student whose blood was "polluted" by Muggle origins. Strangely, Malfoy didn't seem to apply the same standard to Evan Jameson. Harry expected that Malfoy believed he might be useful at some point, with his alleged leanings towards the Dark Arts. He recalled Malfoy's promise to discuss his "unique qualifications" at a later date, and he wondered what the other boy was alluding to.

No matter. It was finally Saturday, and Harry was relieved to not have classes or detention today. Detention had not gone as badly as he had imagined it might. Snape had been in attendance for two hours each night as the students had scrubbed cauldrons, desks, chairs and floors, then sliced, diced, chopped, sifted, ground, poured and measured potion ingredients in their raw states. Snape had insisted up front that there was to be absolutely no talking, at the risk of spending an additional week of detention for each offense. The four of them had taken him at his word, and the time spent in the Potions dungeon had been marked by total silence from the time they entered the door until the time they departed. At the end of the two-hour period, Ron and Hermione left immediately for Gryffindor Tower, while Harry and Malfoy walked directly back to the Slytherin common room. Harry was grateful that Malfoy didn't bother to make small talk once they left the Potions dungeon; by then, both of them were tired and irritable enough that silence was preferable. The one time Malfoy had talked to him was to remind him of Quidditch tryouts.

Harry had awakened early. He was excited at the prospect of playing Quidditch again and wanted to get in an hour or so of practice before breakfast. He had been banned from Quidditch the previous year, save for one game. The year before that, his fourth year, Quidditch had been canceled because of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry felt his return to the pitch was long overdue, and he couldn't wait to go one on one against Malfoy. He was confident he could outmaneuver the other boy, even without his Firebolt. If only Sirius could be here to watch, he thought.

Harry stopped short at the thought of his godfather. His stomach felt uncomfortable, and he recognized the feeling as guilt. He felt guilty that he was happy to be playing Quidditch again, when he should be mourning Sirius. Then he mentally slapped himself. Sirius knew how much he loved Quidditch; it was why he had bought Harry the Firebolt in the first place. Sirius would never want Harry to forego playing Quidditch in order to mope about. He could almost hear his godfather now: Give 'em hell, Harry! Show them what a Potter's made of.

And by Merlin, I will, Harry thought.

He dressed rapidly in a T-shirt and jeans and pulled a jumper over his head. He thought wistfully for a moment of Molly's warm "Weasley jumpers" that he was no longer able to wear. They were packed away in storage, along with many of his other personal belongings. He couldn't risk bringing them to school. He supposed it wouldn't matter about the jumper today, anyway. After twenty minutes of Quidditch drills, he would be shedding the jumper in favor of the T-shirt beneath. Upon checking his reflection in the mirror, he ran a brush through his unruly hair to no avail, then paused to think whether he had remembered his appearance charms the night before.

As if on cue, he heard a tapping on the door. He stepped across the room to open it and was met with the soft whoosh of Hedwig's wings as she flew past him and landed on her perch. He remembered that she had reminded him to reapply the charms last night by bringing him his wand, as had become her habit.

"Good morning, Hecuba," he said to the caramel-colored owl, walking over to stroke her.

She twittered at him, her feathers ruffling. Harry knew she didn't like the new name, and she never passed up an opportunity to remind him of it. Once he had soothed her pique, she held out her leg, to which there was a note attached.

"What have you got there for me, girl?" he asked, untying the note from her leg. He unrolled it carefully and began to read.

Dear Evan,

Just wanted to tell you "good luck" out there today. Hope to see you on the field at the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match in November!

Sincerely,

GW

A faint warmth coursed beneath Harry's skin, and he smiled with pleasure. His earlier melancholy forgotten, he fed Hedwig some owl treats, then grabbed his broom and headed out of the dormitory, humming to himself as he walked.

~~~~~~~~~~

The air above the Quidditch pitch was peppered with figures on zooming broomsticks. Ginny was guarding the hoops at one end, watching as three figures approached rapidly, tossing a leather ball among them. One of the figures snatched the Quaffle out of the air and broke away from the other two, swooping directly towards Ginny at top speed. Ginny marked his movements, her muscles twitching in anticipation. As the boy feinted left, then swerved right, she mirrored his movements. Too late, the player realized he wouldn't be able to make his shot. Rather than relinquish the ball to one of his comrades, he doggedly looped around behind the goalposts to set up for another run.

"Creevey!" Ron shouted. Two heads turned his way, and Ron shook his head. "Colin Creevey!" he specified, motioning the boy in his direction.

Colin flew towards him. "'Sup, Ron?" he asked.

"What're you doing up there, mate?" Ron asked. He grabbed the leather ball from the other boy and held it up to him. "Do you know what this is?"

"Of course I do. It's the Quaffle," Colin answered, looking puzzled.

"Right. And what do we do with it?" Ron prompted.

Colin's puzzled frown deepened, clearly indicating he thought Ron had lost his marbles. "We score with it."

"Right. And what do we do with it when the Keeper is all over us and another player has a clear shot?" Ron's voice was icy now.

Colin hung his head and looked chagrined. "We pass it."

"Think you can remember that next time?" Ron snapped.

Colin nodded. "Sorry, Ron."

"Get back up there."

Ron tossed the Quaffle back to Colin, who caught it deftly. As Ron looked on, Colin zoomed back into the air towards the other Chaser hopefuls, pausing in mid-flight to shout something at his brother, Dennis. Ron shook his head. Colin had definite potential; he had a small build, good reflexes and was one of the faster fliers Ron had seen. Unfortunately, he also had a big problem with knowing when to pass the Quaffle to another player. Colin and Dennis had squabbled over who had the clearer shot several times during the course of tryouts. They worked well in tandem most of the time, passing the ball back and forth to avoid opposing players. When it came down to scoring, though, their natural sibling rivalry got the better of them. Ron felt that the brothers could be an asset to the team, but he didn't know if he wanted to risk a family brawl in the middle of a match.

He observed the other hopefuls from his spot in the stands. Ginny, her position as Seeker already secured, had agreed to play Keeper during tryouts so that Ron could focus his attention on the potential players and evaluate them properly. As he watched, Ginny brought the game-play to a halt and motioned to Andrew Kirke to cover her position. She flew towards Ron and hovered in front of him.

"Bit hard on Colin, weren't you?" Ginny asked.

"No," Ron retorted. "He's got to learn if he wants to play."

"Ron, he will learn. That's my point--these are just tryouts. Most of these people haven't played on a team before. Pick the ones that have the most potential, and what they don't already know they'll pick up during practice."

"I know. I'm just not sure who.... Bloody hell, I wish Harry were here."

Ginny looked away for a moment, then she leveled her gaze back at Ron. "So do I, but he's not. Ron, you can do this. I know you can. Think of all the games that we've played at home when you did just this: selected the best players for the team. You know by now who has the skills we need. You just have to make the cuts. There's no need to keep them up there any longer."

"I know. Say, Gin, don't you want to be captain?" Ron asked, a note of panic in his voice.

"Ron..." Ginny began, with a note of impatience tinged with humor in her voice.

"I know, I know. Bring them down, and tell them to take five. I'll be over in a moment."

Ginny saluted smartly and flew off to rejoin the other players. Ron returned to the parchment he had been scribbling on and began to make a few last notes.

"Almost done?" a voice asked behind him. Ron turned to find that Hermione had climbed into the stands to join him.

"Almost. I'm filling in the lineup now. The Slytherins have the pitch booked next; we have to be out of their way in a few minutes."

"I know; I saw them waiting over in the courtyard. Malfoy is having a heyday, strutting around like he owns the school." Hermione paused long enough to take a seat next to Ron on the bench. "I heard what you said to Ginny."

Ron looked up from his parchment and met her eyes. "Which part?"

"The part about wishing Harry were here."

Ron looked back down. "Oh. Well, we all know he would have been captain this year."

"Ron, even if that were true, and I'm not saying it is, it doesn't mean you aren't just as capable as Harry," Hermione chided. "You've been playing Quidditch practically since you were old enough to walk, according to Ginny."

"Ginny exaggerates," Ron said shortly.

"She's proud of you. So am I. And she's right; you can do this."

Ron flushed under Hermione's praise. "I'd better get down there. They're waiting on me."

"Go on then. I'll see you at lunch later?" Hermione asked.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Think I'll have a shower first, and maybe a nap. Half past six came bloody early this morning."

Hermione smiled and rose from the bench, but Ron reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her before she could leave.

"Hey, Hermione?" he said softly.

"Yes?" As she answered, Hermione looked down at their entwined hands momentarily before her eyes returned to meet his.

"Thanks. It means a lot that you, well, that you have confidence in me," Ron said, his voice sounding oddly rough.

"You're welcome," Hermione replied, smiling warmly. She squeezed his hand before she released it. "Now get down there."

Ron watched her climb down from the stands and walk back towards the castle. An odd feeling seeped into his veins, as if someone had slipped some Elixir of Invincibility into his pumpkin juice that morning. He grinned to himself, then gathered up his parchment and quill and climbed down to where the new recruits waited to hear whether they had been cut.

Ron took a deep breath. He hated making speeches but knew he had to say something. "All right, listen up. I want everyone to know that you all did well today. As you know, we don't have enough positions open to keep everyone. I have spots for three Chasers and one Beater. When I call your name, step to the front."

"Creevey, Colin."

Colin grinned widely and stepped to the front of the group.

"Creevey, Dennis."

Dennis whispered, "Yes!" and stepped up next to his brother, nudging him aside. Ron eyed them sharply, and they stilled immediately.

"Mason, Margaret."

The fourth-year girl gave a small squeal of excitement and joined Colin and Dennis.

"Dempsey, Janet."

Janet was also a fourth year. Her classmate grabbed her by the elbow and squealed again, causing Janet's face to bloom red.

The announcements were met with a smattering of applause from the team members and the other candidates. Ron quieted them.

"Again, well done, everyone. I need the new players and the other team members to stick around for a few minutes. Everyone else is dismissed."

Disappointment was evident on some faces, but in general the spirit was one of camaraderie. The four new team members were heartily congratulated by their fellow house members before Ron shooed them off so he could address the team.

"Creevey, Mason and Creevey, you'll be filling the Chaser slots. Dempsey, you're our new Beater," Ron announced.

Jack Sloper had informed Ron at the beginning of the term that he would not be returning to the field, after having managed to concuss himself with his own bat the previous year. Ron had chosen Janet to fill Jack's slot because she had a strong arm and a fearless disposition. She played rough; Ron couldn't wait to see how she performed against Slytherin. The team began chattering quietly, but Ron silenced them again.

"Practices will be from six o'clock to seven o'clock Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings, and from six o'clock to seven o'clock Tuesday and Thursday mornings. We will practice from nine to eleven every Saturday and Sunday morning from now until our first match in November. Any questions?" Ron asked. He was met with complete silence. "Good. We have a lot of work to do if we play to win the Quidditch Cup this year. And make no mistake...we will win." Ron didn't have to add, "for Harry." He looked over and saw the Slytherin team gathering on the other end of the pitch. "That's it, hit the showers. See you here in the morning."

Ron turned to see Ginny grinning at him, an expression of pride on her face.

"Well?" he asked.

She clapped him on the back of the shoulder. "Great job, Ronniekins. I knew you had it in you!"

"Thanks," Ron said dryly. "Now go take a shower. You reek!"

Brooms in hand, they loped off to the changing rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry followed Malfoy and the Slytherin Quidditch team onto the pitch, along with the rest of the hopefuls. He could see Ron and Ginny in the distance, heading towards the changing rooms. He wondered how Ron was handling being captain this year and felt an unpleasant pang in his chest. Harry had hoped he would be made captain of the Gryffindor team this year. It was yet another one of the many things his "death" had cost him. He shoved the thought abruptly out of his mind. Ron would make a terrific captain. He deserved it. Malfoy, on the other hand, showed every sign of being a power-mad dictator, feeding off the rush of ordering everyone around.

"You two, bring that trunk over here. You lot, mount your brooms. I want to see twenty laps around the pitch, as fast as you can go. If you want to make this team, I suggest you make it around in less than eight minutes. Crabbe, Goyle, use the time to practice. Merlin knows you need it. Throw Bludgers at each other's faces or something." After Malfoy had rattled off these commands, he turned to Harry. "So, Jameson, decided to go out for Chaser after all, did you?" he asked, smirking.

"I thought I might give it a shot. Of course, I'll take you on for Seeker, if your offer still stands. And if you think you're up to the challenge," Harry added.

Malfoy's smirk faded into something less friendly. "There's just no end to your arrogance, is there?"

"I take after my father," Harry said coolly. "What's your excuse?"

"It's my birthright," Malfoy shot back. "Anyway, it's your funeral. Hope you can live with the humiliation. Let's go."

Malfoy dropped everything but his broom and made to walk to the middle of the pitch.

"Just a minute," Harry called out to stop him. "Why should I bother exerting myself if you don't have any intention of giving me the position, even if I do beat you?"

"Personal satisfaction?" Malfoy said sarcastically.

Harry affected a cocky grin. "And when have you ever known a Slytherin to do anything for nothing more than 'personal satisfaction'?" he asked.

Malfoy's smirk was back. "I haven't. What do you propose, then?"

"If I beat you to the Snitch three out of three times, you give me the Seeker position. Anything less, I'll settle for Chaser."

"Anything less, you settle for nothing," Malfoy retorted.

"Are you certain you want to say that before you've even seen me fly?" Harry countered. He knew Malfoy was a complete git, but he also knew Malfoy wasn't stupid.

"Fine. Anything less than three out of three, and I'll still let you try out for Chaser."

"Fair enough."

Harry stuck out his hand to seal the bargain and received an odd look in return. Malfoy finally shook his hand, then stalked over to Crabbe and Goyle and began conferring with them in a low enough tone that Harry was unable to hear what was being said. After several minutes, Malfoy motioned Harry over.

"Ready, Jameson?" he asked.

"Whenever you are," Harry answered.

Malfoy mounted his broom, then kicked off and zoomed upwards at a dizzyingly steep angle. Harry followed suit, and soon the two of them were hovering high above the Quidditch pitch. The rest of the team and the team hopefuls had gathered in the stands to watch. Harry was not surprised to see that Crabbe and Goyle, rather than watching with the rest, had followed them into the air, flying at a lower altitude and batting Bludgers back and forth to each other.

"Didn't say I would make it easy on you, Jameson," Malfoy called out.

The grin upon Malfoy's face could only be described as diabolical, Harry thought. He steeled himself against the beating he was probably about to take and simply nodded in Malfoy's direction. Malfoy looked down and signaled to Pansy Parkinson, who was gazing raptly at him from the sidelines. She emitted an excited squeal, then ran to the trunk and carefully released the Golden Snitch from its compartment. The Snitch shot straight up and hovered high above the pitch for a moment. Harry waited, as did Malfoy.

Fffffffffffrrrrrrrrripppppppppp!

The Snitch whizzed between them, circled them once, then rocketed off towards one end of the pitch, swerving and diving erratically. Harry took off after it, with Malfoy close on his tail. Side by side, they trailed the Snitch for several minutes, but it maintained a fifteen-meter lead on them. Harry did his best to concentrate on the speck of gold and to ignore Malfoy, who was ramming into him repeatedly--a favorite tactic of his. Malfoy swerved into Harry's broom again and again, until finally Harry had enough. He closed his fist and drew his arm across his chest, waiting.

BAM!

Malfoy rocked his broom into Harry's once more, and Harry was ready. He drove his elbow hard into the other boy's stomach and was rewarded by the sound of a startled grunt of pain. Malfoy clutched his broom handle tight with both hands for a moment, giving Harry just enough of a lead. He sped up, following the Snitch as it dipped up and down. It circled around the hoops at the end of the pitch, and Harry followed, closing the lead meter by meter, reaching out with his right hand, closer, closer...when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

THWACK!

Harry attempted a Sloth Grip Roll at the last minute but was unable to avoid the full impact of the Bludger against his shoulder. He didn't think any bones were broken, but the pain was excruciating just the same. He could feel the bruise developing already, and he cursed himself for not having seen the Bludger sooner. Hearing Crabbe's laughter from across the pitch (or was it Goyle's? he couldn't be certain) only fueled his determination. Harry had lost the lead he had on Malfoy, who now resumed his tactic of repeatedly colliding his broom with Harry's. The next time Malfoy made a move, Harry rolled left hard, as if to put some distance between them, but then veered right again and deliberately smashed into Malfoy. The force of the collision caused Malfoy to lose his grip on his broom, and Harry grinned in satisfaction as he watched the other boy fall into an unintentional Starfish and Stick position. While Malfoy was struggling to right himself, Harry put on a burst of speed, following the Snitch as it zipped from one side of the pitch to the other. He closed in on it steadily, until at last he reached out his hand and snatched it from the air. The fluttering wings beat against his hand as he dove for the center of the field.

Malfoy, who had landed just before Harry, scowled. "I ought to disqualify you for cheating," Malfoy complained. "Blatching and cobbing are both against the rules."

Harry said nothing but gave Malfoy a pointed look.

Malfoy shrugged, his trademark smirk appearing once again. "Ready for round two?" he asked.

"We can take a minute, if you'd like," Harry said, struggling not to laugh, as he continued, "to give you a chance to work up a good Sticking Charm. Wouldn't want you to fall off your broom again."

"Think that's funny, do you? We'll see how funny it is when you're the one with a face full of turf. Let's go." Malfoy kicked off once again, his jaw set in determination.

Harry handed the Snitch over to Pansy, then he took to the air again behind Malfoy. Once released, the Snitch shot away rather than up, and Harry dove immediately after it. Malfoy hung back several meters, and soon Harry knew why. Crabbe and Goyle approached from either side, each lightly batting a Bludger before him. This time he was ready for them. Harry remained on course until after they lobbed the iron balls at him, then he pulled up on his broom handle and climbed with all his might. He glanced down in time to watch the Bludgers crash into Crabbe and Goyle, who had not dodged quickly enough to avoid them after Harry had swerved out of the way. Harry laughed and looked around for Malfoy. He spied him hovering above with a look of disgust on his face. Serves them right, Harry thought. He resumed his search for the Snitch, avoiding flying close to Malfoy as much as possible. For several minutes the two of them circled the pitch. Then Harry caught a glimmer of gold fluttering near one of the raised stands. He shot forward, only to be blocked by Malfoy, who had parked himself directly in Harry's path.

"Move!" bellowed Harry. The other boy just hovered there, as if daring Harry to knock him over again.

This time, Harry opted for a different tactic. He flew straight at Malfoy as hard as he could, pleased to note a faint look of panic cross the other boy's features as he drew closer and closer. At the last minute, Harry executed another Sloth Grip Roll and dove under Malfoy's broom, reaching out to kick the tail end of it as he passed. Malfoy bobbled but hung on and dove after Harry. Harry flew upside down towards the Snitch and followed it into another steep dive. Malfoy followed, but he was too late. Harry grasped the golden ball once again, a feeling of triumph coursing through his veins.

"Had enough yet?" Harry asked when they had touched down to the middle of the pitch.

"I only have to stop you once, Jameson," Malfoy replied.

"Maybe you should try harder this time," countered Harry.

"We'll see." Malfoy motioned for Pansy to retrieve the Snitch from Harry. Harry kicked off into the air for the last time. Malfoy followed, but instead of climbing straight up, he flew towards the goal hoops at one end of the pitch. He hovered there, waiting, even after Pansy threw the Snitch into the air once more. Harry wondered what he was about, then shrugged as he began his pursuit. He ignored Malfoy completely and focused his entire being on the glimmer of gold as it climbed and swooped, leading him along in mad circles until his head swam from dizziness.

Gotta catch it,

Harry thought. For Sirius. He'd be so disappointed....

Thoughts of his godfather increased Harry's determination. He focused solely on capturing the Snitch, which had shot off in the same direction Harry had last seen Malfoy flying. He pursued, flying at top speed straight across the pitch. When he caught sight of the Snitch again, it was hovering just in front of the goal hoops. Unfortunately, Malfoy was between him and his target, but instead of pursuing the Snitch, he was flying straight towards Harry. Harry's jaw dropped in astonishment, but he recovered quickly.

Okay,

he thought. If he wants a game of chicken, he's got one.

Harry forgot about the Snitch. He pulled his arms in, gripped his broomstick as tight as he could and flew towards Malfoy with all his might. Closer and closer they flew, and Harry could hear nothing but the wind rushing past him and the blood pounding in his ears. Suddenly, the Snitch appeared between them, hovering in midair, as if it were confused by the two Seekers closing in on it from opposite directions.

Three...two...one...

Harry thought.

At the last second, the Snitch plummeted straight down, leaving only empty space between Harry and Malfoy. In an instant, Harry made his decision: he flinched first. He rolled upside down once more, then looped around and dove after the Snitch rather than barreling headlong into Malfoy. Malfoy flew right past Harry, which cost him several seconds as he corrected his course and fell into pursuit of the Snitch. Harry continued to dive, rolling sideways, his arm stretched out as far as it would reach. He was rapidly approaching the ground, but this time he refused to alter his course.

That Snitch is mine,

he thought, and he extended his body well past his balance point to grab the fluttering, golden ball.

"Yes!" Harry shouted triumphantly, as he pulled up on his broom as hard as he could to try to avoid crashing. Unfortunately, he had waited a moment too late to level out of the dive, and the end of his broomstick made contact with the ground, throwing him violently into the air. He did his best to tuck into a ball before he hit the ground himself, rolling over and over again until he came to a stop, having absorbed most of the initial impact with his backside. He lay supine, relaxing little by little, and he exhaled with relief when it seemed nothing was broken.

Two boots stepped up next to his head. Harry opened his eyes to see Malfoy peering down at him smugly.

"Think you'll live, Jameson, or must we carry you to the hospital wing?"

"I'll live." Harry sat up gingerly. Nothing was broken, but his bum would have a hell of a bruise in the morning. He bit back a groan of pain as he climbed to his feet. Malfoy just looked at him, shaking his head.

"Well?" Harry said.

"You're either crazy, or bloody stupid, you know that?" Malfoy said.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've been called either," Harry replied.

"Yeah, well, congratulations. You made the team. First practice is tomorrow morning at eleven. Don't be late."

Harry was astounded. He hadn't expected Malfoy to live up to his end of their bargain. "Just like that?" he asked.

"We had an agreement, didn't we? You beat me to the Snitch three times," Malfoy replied matter-of-factly.

Harry knew there must be some other reason behind Malfoy's geniality. It wasn't possible that he would just hand Harry the Seeker position without a fight, winner or no. A suspicion began to form in the back of Harry's mind, then. "You weren't even trying to win, were you?" he asked.

"No," Malfoy replied, unable to keep from laughing.

Harry couldn't believe that he had unwittingly become the star player of one of Malfoy's pranks. He bit back an angry retort and asked, "Why not?"

"Simple. Our Keeper left last year, and I decided I was the best man to replace him. Easier to keep an eye on everyone that way, especially those two," Malfoy explained, jerking his head towards Crabbe and Goyle. "Don't know how they manage to remember to breathe without hourly instructions."

Harry struggled to rein in his temper, but he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice entirely. "If you already knew you didn't want Seeker, why the hell did you put me through that?" he fumed.

"It amused me," Malfoy drawled. Fortunately, he continued before Harry had a chance to punch him. "Besides, I wasn't going to just give you the position without seeing you fly. I needed to see if you've got what it takes."

"And?" Harry asked.

"I've seen better, but you'll do. I've seen the Weaselette play. As much as it pains me to admit it, she was good last year. Certainly not as good as me, but she's had all summer to practice. And she fights dirty."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"Fond of using her elbows, that one. She's small enough that the referee doesn't usually catch her at it, and those bony little elbows of hers hurt. Our first match is against Gryffindor. You play like you did today, you won't have any trouble with her." Malfoy cut Harry off as he started to reply. "We're through here, Jameson. I've got Chasers waiting to try out. Like I said, practice, eleven a.m. tomorrow. Don't be late."

Harry stifled his irritation at being dismissed by Malfoy and shouldered his broom, nodding once to indicate he understood. He still felt slightly unsettled, as if perhaps there were still something more going on that he didn't know about. Still, he had what he wanted, and as he walked towards the changing rooms alone, he couldn't help smiling.

He was a Seeker again.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Ginny emerged from the changing rooms, she was surprised to find Dean standing outside.

"Hi, Dean," she said warmly. "Waiting on Ron?"

"Oh, um, no," Dean answered. "Not really. How'd tryouts go?"

"Well, you should probably ask Ron, since he's captain. But I think they went all right. I think Colin and Dennis will make excellent Chasers, if they can ever stop arguing long enough to play," Ginny replied, laughing.

"Really? That's great. Did you make Chaser, too?" Dean asked.

"No. Ron wants me to play Seeker," Ginny answered.

"Oh. Oh," Dean said, then, as if he had suddenly remembered the reason Ginny was playing Seeker. "Well, you'll be great, Ginny. That was a fantastic catch you made last year at the match with Ravenclaw."

"Thanks, but Cho wasn't exactly at her best that day," Ginny said, sidestepping the compliment, which made her feel uncomfortable.

"No matter. I think you would have caught it in any case. You know, I heard about what Corner said to you after the game..." Dean began.

"Did you?" Ginny asked.

Dean's eyes widened at her tone, which had grown decidedly cooler. "Um, yeah. Hey, I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to say that...."

He trailed off again, and Ginny became irritated. Michael Corner was not a subject she was happy discussing.

"Yes?" she prompted. She began tapping her foot impatiently and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I just wanted to say that I was glad. No, no," he corrected when he saw Ginny's expression turn to one of anger. "I didn't mean I was glad he insulted you. Just glad that--well, that he was enough of a git to let you get away. So that maybe, um, another bloke could, well, uh, have a chance," Dean finished lamely.

Ginny relaxed her stance, realizing Dean was clumsily trying to go about letting her know that he liked her. "You wouldn't happen to have any particular bloke in mind, would you, Dean?" Ginny asked, now amused rather than angry.

"Well, now that you mention it...I, erm, I was sort of thinking that it would be a nice day to take a walk around the lake. I, well, I wondered if you might want to go with me?"

Ginny was touched by his nervousness. Michael had been much smoother the first time he had asked her to take a walk around the lake. Dean obviously hasn't had as much practice as Michael, Ginny thought, and the notion was a comforting one.

"I'd love to, Dean," she replied, smiling.

"Uh, great! That's great! Then, um, let's go."

Dean started toward the well-worn path that led from the changing rooms to the lake. Ginny fell into step with him, pleased that she now wouldn't have to return to the dormitory until after lunch. However, a familiar and, at that particular moment, unwelcome voice stopped her.

"Ginny? Where are you going?" Ron asked. He stood in the doorway of the changing rooms. His posture was that of a big brother checking up on his little sister: stiff and forbidding.

Ginny's heart sank. Not now, Ron, she thought. I don't need this from you right now. To her brother, she said, "Just going for a walk."

"Can I talk to you for a second? Privately?" he asked, pointedly letting Dean know that he should make himself scarce.

"Dean, why don't you go ahead? I'll catch up in a minute," Ginny said with a smile, but her eyes were glaring daggers at Ron.

Dean nodded and began walking towards the lake by himself. Ginny turned to her brother, her brown eyes bright with fury.

"Ronald Weasley, this had better be good. This is the second time in a week you have embarrassed me this way. What is wrong with you?" she demanded.

"Nothing, Ginny. I just want to know where you'll be, and when you'll be back, so I'll know when to start looking for Dean to kill him," Ron answered.

"Ron..." Ginny began, her fury mounting.

"Kidding, Gin," Ron said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I do want to know where you're going, though. I don't mind if you go for a walk with Dean. He's an all right guy, and he knows I'll hurt him if he hurts you. He's not who I'd have chosen for you--"

"Don't start, Ron. Not now," Ginny interrupted.

She knew what he was going to say. For some strange reason, Ron had always supported her crush on Harry. Ginny thought it was because he knew there was no chance Harry would ever return her affection, and therefore he was "safe." And, too, Ginny thought it was because Ron thought very highly of Harry and knew that if he did someday return her feelings, he could be trusted. That would never be, though, and Ginny didn't want to think about that now. She just wanted to spend a pleasant morning with a friend. Ron would simply have to get used to it.

"I wasn't, Ginny," Ron protested. "All I want to know is where you're going, and when you think you'll be back. I'm your only brother at Hogwarts now. All the worrying falls to me. Not that I never worried before; you know I did. But...things are different, now."

Ginny relented at the somber tone of her brother's voice. "We're just taking a walk around the lake, that's all. It's a beautiful day, and Dean is fun to be with. He makes me laugh. We'll be back for lunch, I promise."

"All right, then. Have a good time, Sis."

"Thanks, Ron."

Ginny swiftly hugged her brother and kissed him on the cheek before running to catch up with Dean, who had paused a discreet distance away. She turned once and waved to Ron, who waved back before trudging up the path to the castle. Dean smiled as she approached, and together they continued towards the lake.

"Sorry about that. You know how Ron is," Ginny apologized.

"I know. So, did you have a good...oh, never mind," Dean broke off. "That's probably not such a good topic."

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Summer." Dean winced, then continued, "I was going to ask how your summer was, but I can only imagine--"

"That it wasn't good," Ginny finished. "No, I can't say that I had a good summer this year, Dean. The first month wasn't too bad, but, well, you know. I hope yours was okay, though."

"It was," Dean said. "Seamus came to visit for a week. We went to a football game. He didn't think much of it, said it was boring compared to Quidditch. You should have heard him: 'Where are the goal hoops? Why don't they just pick the ball up and carry it?'" Dean trailed off when he saw Ginny had a puzzled expression on her face. "I guess you've never seen a football game either, have you?"

"No," Ginny answered. "My dad watched one once. He thought it was fascinating. Then again, he thinks everything Muggles do is fascinating."

"It's great, but Seamus is right. It doesn't hold a candle to Quidditch." Dean cleared his throat and glanced sideways at Ginny. "Um, say, Ginny, I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead," Ginny encouraged, certain she knew what was coming.

"Well, um, Seamus kind of mentioned that Neville may have given you the idea that, erm, well, that I fancy you."

Ginny bit back a smile; she didn't want to embarrass Dean, but she wasn't certain she could speak without giggling, so she simply nodded.

"Erm, well, uh, then Seamus sort of said that Neville told him that you told Ron that you might, uh, that you might kind of fancy me, too," Dean continued.

"Oh," said Ginny. "Now that you mention it, your name did come up during the ride home last term."

"It did?" Dean asked, his face lighting up.

Ginny nodded again. "Yes. Ron was pestering me about breaking up with Michael, said I should choose someone better next time. So I told him I had chosen you."

Dean coughed, but he appeared to be pleased by the news. "Erm, you did?"

"Well, yes. I was mostly just having him on. I hope you don't mind," Ginny teased.

Dean's face fell, but he tried valiantly to cover his obvious disappointment. They were close to the lake now, so he directed his gaze over the water as he spoke. "Oh. Uh, no, I guess not," he said, but his expression indicated that he did, indeed, mind.

Ginny decided it was time to put the poor boy out of his misery. "I mean, I would never dream of seriously telling Ron we were going out when you haven't asked me. Yet."

Dean's head whipped back around to her, pleased surprise blooming on his face. "And if I were to ask? What would your answer be?"

Ginny's grin was sly as she answered, "Well, you'll just have to ask to find out, won't you?"

Dean rolled his eyes and looked out towards the lake once more. They walked several meters before he spoke again. "Um, say, Ginny?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"You know there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon?"

"Yes, I know," Ginny replied, trying hard to keep a straight face.

Dean stopped and turned to face her. "Ginny, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

Ginny could no longer contain her smile. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Merlin, I'm glad that's over with. You like to make things difficult on a fellow, don't you?"

"Sometimes," Ginny replied airily.

"You know, that weekend isn't until November," Dean mentioned.

"True." Ginny felt laughter bubbling up inside her again when she heard Dean sigh in exasperation at her response.

"So, would it be okay if we, well, hung out together before then?" he finally managed.

"We're hanging out now, aren't we?" Ginny asked.

"Um, yeah. I guess we are." Dean looked over at Ginny, who was smiling warmly at him, a spark of mischief in her eyes. He reached over and slipped his hand into hers, and she didn't object.

They walked the rest of the way around the lake hand in hand, before returning to the castle for lunch.

~~~~~~~~~~