They Shook Hands: Year Four (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Four

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Eighteen - The First Annual Hogwarts Broom Race

Madam Hooch, the Flying instructor and Quidditch referee, had been placed in charge of selecting the finest competitors from the Hogwarts applicants to challenge the eleven entrants from each visiting school. While she had toyed with the idea of allowing only the Chasers from each house to enter, the howls of protest that had met her proposal in the Great Hall at dinner on the first night of the new term quickly changed her mind. Instead, the top three flyers from each house would be chosen by her. When asked how she would choose, a wicked smile had slowly crept over her face and she only said, "Tomorrow, after classes, on the pitch."

Nearly fifty Hogwarts students turned up for the trial. In addition to every Chaser from every house team, many who had planned to try out this year before Dumbledore's announcement also wanted their chance at glory. Draco and Millie had hoped to displace Warrington, Pucey, or Montague. They had practised hard all summer only to be crushed with disappointment when the Interhouse Quidditch Cup had been cancelled. When the broom race had been organized, open to all students fourth year and above, they had been the first to indicate their interest.

The Slytherin team had the support of most of the house. A handful of other hopefuls were present on the Quidditch pitch, but nobody reasonably expected them to top the team Chasers. Even Draco and Millie weren't being given good odds, and Draco had been boasting again about playing Quodpot with some Americans over the summer holiday. Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle sat in the stands to cheer on their friends. Pansy and Jenna were rooting for Millie and Warrington the Third. Draco was still a prat in Pansy's opinion, and Jenna's paramour naturally got her support.

"A broom race is a lot different from a Quidditch match. Just because you're good at handling the Quaffle doesn't mean you know how to race," Madam Hooch declared. "Here's how it's going to work: when I blow my whistle, you will all kick off and make for the opposite hoops. You will fly over them, bank left, and do one circuit of the stadium. From there, head to the front gate of the castle. Touch the keystone of the arch, and go as fast as you can towards Hogsmeade. Pass through the energy ribbon and turn back. The first three of you back here win. There will be more than just your fellow racers to contend with. I have designed a few minor obstacles to test you. Good luck. Slytherins! You're up first. Line up under the hoops."

Draco looked eager. He threw a leg over the Nimbus 2000 he'd received from Harry as a Christmas present last year. He and Millie high-fived for luck. Millie was riding her new Nimbus 2001, which she confessed to Harry had been a present from Viktor Krum. Against the assorted Cleansweeps and Comets, the fourth years easily held the speed advantage.

"Go, Draco!" Harry screamed across the pitch.

"Come on, Draco!" Goyle shouted.

"You can do it!" Crabbe bellowed.

"Millie!" Pansy cheered.

"Charles! Woo!" Jenna called.

The whistle blew shrilly. The riders took off faster than any startled bird from the underbrush. They sailed across the pitch, approaching the far hoops. The team Chasers were in the lead, with Millie and Draco hot on their heels.

Black iron Bludgers flew up from the base of the hoops. There were more than two. Harry counted a dozen, and they were moving much more quickly than Harry had ever seen in a match.

Montague swerved to avoid one and flew in to the path of another. His broom shook mightily as the ball ricocheted off and crashed in to Pucey's shoulder. Millie flipped upside down to avoid taking one to the head.

The blizzard of Bludgers slowed the pack down, but only the less experienced flyers stopped moving forward. Pushing through the swarm, the team members soared over the hoops and banked to the left followed closely by Draco and Millie.

The course around the stadium was now augmented with stone pillars that erupted from the ground. Pucey ploughed head-first in to the ground when he couldn't dodge one in time. He jumped back in to the air immediately; he'd taken far worse hits in Quidditch matches, but he was now in last place. One of the fifth year girls got flipped over and crashed to the ground. She lay flat and didn't get up again.

The pack set off to the front of the castle. Draco had caught up with Montague. Each racer held out a hand and touched the keystone of the arch of the front gate of the castle. They turned sharply and rocketed down the snow-covered path to the village. Now Millie had caught up with Montague.

No obstacles were evident during this long straight-away. Within minutes, it seemed that they'd reached the entrance to the grounds. The wrought-iron gates stood open for the trial, and a barrier of glowing purple energy shimmered between the pillars in the morning light.

As Warrington pierced the barrier, he suddenly leaned forward and crashed in to the ground. He kicked up a tremendous spray of snow, as did the others as they reached the milestone.

Draco was the first to get back in the air, and he was having severe trouble with his broom. He couldn't seem to make it fly straight. None of the flyers were going in anything like a straight line. They had to return to the Quidditch pitch, but who it would be was anybody's guess. There was a lot of cobbing going on. Elbows were flying fast and furious, made all the more entertaining by the disorientation caused by the barrier.

Warrington the Third was the first to land. A half-second behind him was Draco, who practically threw himself off his broom trying to snag the lead. Millie, Pucey, and Montague came up in a cluster. Millie jinked left and right, elbowing each boy sharply in the ribs. She inched forward just enough to snag third place.

"Winners, Warrington, Malfoy, and Bulstrode! Gryffindors, you're up!"

As the two houses passed by each other, Draco smirked smarmily at Ron Weasley. The red-haired boy looked determined, and he was carrying a solid-looking Cleansweep 10. He glared at Draco as he walked by, but he said nothing. When Draco arrived at the stands, he appeared to be calculating various scenarios in his head.

"How did he afford a Cleansweep Ten? Why wouldn't we have heard about his good fortune? How long's he had it? Has he been practising? How good is he? He's not a bad flyer, I recall from our pick-up game last year."

"If he heard you complimenting him, he'd fall over," Harry interjected.

"It's honest evaluation, not kissing his arse. It doesn't matter how bloody good he is, because I'm better. I'm going to leave him so far behind he'll have to guess which way I've gone."

"A standard Cleansweep Ten is being provided, so you'll just have to beat him the old-fashioned way."

The best Gryffindors were Ron Weasley, Alicia Spinnett, and Angelina Johnson. Better prepared for the hazards from watching Slytherin, the two team Chasers won handily, and Weasley's sudden elbow to Katie Bell's head sent her veering in to one of the Weasley twins and down to the ground.

Ravenclaw's top three were Roger Davies, Cho Chang, and Biff Webster. Harry wasn't friendly with any of them, though he had faced Chang on the Quidditch pitch.

Hufflepuff's finest ended up being Susan Bones, Airen Summerby, and Roberto Aronstein. He clapped hard for Susan and met her as she walked off the pitch.

"Congratulations, Susan."

"Oh, thanks, Harry! I'm so excited! I'm hoping to make the team next year, if they don't cancel Quidditch again, and they'd better not. This broom race is just the thing to help build Diggory's belief in me. Then all I'll need is a good trial."

"You'll do great. The way you corkscrewed to avoid the bludgers was excellent."

"I just hope the course isn't as bad as the Swedish annual. That runs through a dragon preserve!"

"Yeah, three hundred miles or so, wasn't it?"

"From Kopparberg to Arjeplog. You know what sort of dragons they have on that preserve? Swedish Short-Snouts, just like the one Diggory beat."

"So he'll be able to show you all the tricks he used to get past it just in case they decide to have fun and reuse the dragons from the first task."

"In that case, can we go flying together tomorrow?"

The question caught Harry off-guard. He'd sincerely congratulated Susan and then begun to take the mickey out of her by way of Diggory, whom she was naturally very enthusiastic about. Instead, she'd asked him out.

"If I help you train for the race, Draco and Millie will try to hurt me," he said half-seriously. "Do you want to be the instrument of my pain and suffering?"

"I could give you cold compresses and pain potions."

"I thought you wanted to play Quidditch, not Healer."

Susan grinned at him. "You are absolutely infuriating, Harry. I guess I'll have to ask Cedric after all."

She was on a first-name basis with Diggory? "Sorry, Susan. It's one of those house things. If you were in Slytherin, I'd like nothing better than to help you prepare for the race. But you're not. You're in Hufflepuff, which is a very nice place to be," he hastened to add, seeing a dark look cross her face, "but I'm not a Hufflepuff too, so it's just not allowed."

The idea of being a Hufflepuff was amusing enough that Harry had to fight down a smile. They were nice enough people, but Harry didn't love hard work for its own merit. Given the choice, he would take it easy.

Harry didn't say that he wouldn't know how to explain to his girlfriend, a Ravenclaw, what he was doing going flying with a pretty Hufflepuff with strawberry-blonde hair. Padma had been tolerant enough of Harry repaying the favour of "that third-year girl", and he didn't want her to get the wrong idea about him.

"Stupid house rivalry," Susan rued, kicking at the ground. The stone clanged off the metal support pole of the stairs. "You'd think the most important thing would be to beat Durmstrang and Beauxbatons."

Harry cheekily quipped, "And we will!"

Friday was spent in breathless anticipation of Saturday. The representative from Cleansweep arrived with a great deal of ceremony and three crates of model 10 brooms. The pre-production model Cleansweep 11 was set on display in the entrance hall, drawing all manner of covetous attention.

Draco and Millie prevailed upon Harry to open the Chamber of Secrets again. Down in the depths of the school, a whole warren of tunnels existed for the use of the basilisk. Eithne hibernated now, but the twisting, turning nature of the caves could still be put to use by others.

A course was laid out, using bottles of blue flame conjured with Goyle's new favourite spell. Harry paid no attention to his friends as they zoomed through and back through the central hall. He reversed the Shrinking Charm he'd cast on the overstuffed armchair he'd brought down from the common room and sat down to ponder the golden egg some more.

When he was stumped by that, he meditated, looking for the animal in his soul. When he had no more luck with meditation than deduction, Harry stood up and began to walk aimlessly around the Chamber. It was quite nice now that they'd scrubbed away all the algae and scum from the stone. Good lighting made all the difference.

Throw down a couple of rugs, get some nice chairs down here, and this could be quite swanky. Don't need any paint with all this stone and marble.

It was easier to see the door now. Harry knew he'd first seen this door on his first trip in to the Chamber. He had been so drained by his adventure that he hadn't investigated at the time. To be honest, he had quite forgotten about it until he had reopened the Chamber this year. There had been no time to investigate, for he had been training hard in order to survive the first task. Now, though, he had time.

It was a plain, wooden door, unremarkable in any way. The wood was hard, petrified. Had it gotten that way down here? Wood couldn't petrify in a damp environment, could it? Harry didn't know. The handle was tarnished, but clearly in the shape of a serpent. Harry tried it experimentally, but the lock was engaged.

"Lumos!" Trying not to burn his eyes out, Harry knelt down to look through the keyhole, which was large and old-fashioned. The wand light showed Harry what was little better than a private office. A plain desk with an uncomfortable-looking chair was covered in dust. A few bookshelves held leather-bound volumes and strange curios. It looked as though nobody had been here in a thousand years.

"Harry? Harry, where are you? It's time for tea."

Harry extinguished his light. He would have to investigate this room another time. Maybe something inside could help him figure out the egg. He said nothing to the others about the room and asked how the practice had gone.

There was not another opportunity for them to slip away that night, and at breakfast on Saturday morning, Dumbledore announced that the broom race would begin immediately after lunch. All racers were told to report to the Quidditch pitch following breakfast for instructions.

When the last of the eggs and bacon had been tucked away, Madam Hooch stood up and read all the names of those from Hogwarts who would be racing. Karkaroff and Maxime likewise announced their own students. As the names were called, each student stood in a line at the back of the Great Hall to loud applause. The representative from Cleansweep handed a brand new model 10 to each in turn.

Harry and the rest passed the intervening time playing Exploding Snap, a quick game that they could abandon at a moment's notice. Harry lost track of how many hands they played before they switched to Exploding Rummy for variety. Jenna saved them from tedium by showing them a game she'd learned while hanging out with the sixth years. It was called Exploding Hearts, and despite the name that sounded more appropriate for a heavy rock band, it was very fun. The hearts exploded in your hand every time you collected them, and the queen of spades had a more vulgar mouth than Tim and Pansy combined. Harry thought it much more exciting than the Muggle version.

At last it was time to eat, but lunch seemed to take forever as well. Harry's food didn't sit like a lump in his stomach, as it wasn't him in the race. But he did eat quickly and then sat fidgeting while he waited for Dumbledore to dismiss them. The trip down to the stands was jovial, much as it had been for the first task of the tournament. Harry didn't think he could be much more relieved that he wasn't taking centre stage today. He couldn't thank Draco enough for whinging so much to his father about the tournament that the governors had instituted this race.

Harry liked seats closest to the pitch. He only got to watch two matches a year as it was, and any team member could claim prime seats, just as any prefect or N.E.W.T.-level student could. Jenna and Pansy sat to his right. Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle sat to his left. Laine, Ginny, Arcen, and Lucas sat behind him.

"I heard that scouting agents from Holyhead, Ballycastle, Tutshill, and from England, Wales, and Ireland will be in the crowd," Bletchley said from a few seats away. "Not only that, lots of the Bee Bee Arr Aay sponsors are here too."

"The what?" Harry asked.

"The British Broom Racing Association. Quidditch is the most popular wizarding sport, but it's not the only one. That Quodpot Malfoy is always going on about, for example. I'm speaking of old-fashioned racing. Sponsors give you lots of money to wear their gear or fly their broom or use their products, and you have their logos on your robes. They're always looking for new talent."

Harry didn't think he would much like wearing a label just because he was paid to. He'd publicly support Firebolt, because his broom was the best, but he didn't want to lend his name to substandard products.

The racers were all lined up beneath the hoops at the near side. Draco looked focused and determined. Weasley looked like he was ready to kill someone. The gleam in his eyes was manic.

"Ladies and gentlewizards, honoured guests, welcome to the first annual Hogwarts broom race!" Harry recognized the voice of Lucius Malfoy. He supposed the governors would want to have fun with their own event, just as the Ministry officials had. "In the spirit of friendly competition brought on by the Triwizard Tournament, out of a desire for more students to engage in contest, those students from our visiting schools who were not chosen as champions will now take to the skies against the finest flyers Hogwarts has to offer!"

The stands burst in to applause.

"The course has been carefully considered and will take our contestants over a path far and away from this stadium. Behold!"

In the centre of the pitch, a brilliant fireball exploded, and what Harry could only call a hologram appeared. It was the students lined up under the hoops, only in huge proportion. One of the Durmstrang boys had his finger in his nose.

"Many of you will recognize the Eye of Far-Seeing, which has been adapted to this circumstance by Lila Parkinson and Narcissa Malfoy of the Needed Magicks Task Force."

"That's a handy bit of magic," Jenna noted. "Your mum is brilliant, Pansy."

"Naturally. Best in her year at Charms. Too bad it doesn't translate to me." Pansy sounded a bit offended. She was always one of the worst in Charms class, nearly last to get everything, if she ever got it at all. "I didn't know she had taken a commission."

"Draco's mum, too," Harry said. "She's never said anything about working with Charms."

"She's not as brilliant as my mum, but she's no slouch," Pansy replied. "They're both part of the Ministry Task Force for the Development of Needed Magicks. They're the ones who come up with new spells when it's realized that existing magic is insufficient."

"They just think up new magic?"

"Yup. The Task Force developed Muggle-Repelling Charms, the spells that detect under-age magic, and the Floo. Of course that was a long time ago. They haven't done anything significant recently."

"Wow," was all Harry could think to say before Mr. Malfoy was continuing.

"Contestants will kick off at the sound of the cannon-"

Kaboom!

Filch glared back sourly as every eye turned to him, but the flyers launched immediately. Harry shook his head, amazed that everyone, himself included, had jumped so much.

From the Quidditch pitch, the contestants clawed skyward, elbowing and checking for all they were worth. Several fell back. Nobody was really in the lead yet; they were a mob, without organization.

Up and over the stadium walls and across the lawn they raced. It was a sheer speed match. There were no fouls being called like in Quidditch. Harry hadn't seen so much cobbing since they'd passed a cornfield on the ride to school. Those who played Quidditch, used to this sort of sport, had pulled out in front. They seemed to have agreed to cooperate, probably until the very last stretch. Though they may not have run drills together, every player knew how the others operated. Hot on their heels were the best of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, about six in all. Draco, Millie, Susan, and a few of the Quidditch hopefuls were grouped in third. The less skilled foreigners brought up the rear.

The front gates to the grounds stood open, that glowing energy barrier back in place. It was a Confundus field, and it affected everyone who flew through it. Having seen this obstacle once before, the Hogwarts students were better prepared for it and pulled out in front of the pack as the flyers crookedly and meanderingly moved towards Hogsmeade.

They crashed in to buildings and obstacles placed in the lane. Cho Chang misjudged her dodge around a stack of wooden crates and clipped the corner. She went in to a flat spin and collided with Alicia Spinnett. They crashed to the ground in a tangled heap. Angelina Johnson swerved to avoid them, but miscalculated her proximity to Warrington. The two Chasers bounced off the wall of the Three Broomsticks but managed to right themselves. They dropped to the back of the pack.

Several residents of the village perched on top of pyramids of boxes. Red and white flashes of harmless Stunners and Twisting Jinxes rained down on the racers as they ran the gauntlet. One of the Beauxbatons boys caught a Stunner right in the face and took out three of his friends. A girl from Durmstrang got hit with three Twisters, and her out-of-control broom wiped out the rear third of the pack.

At last they made it through the village. Up the road, past the last buildings, the Confundus seemed to wear off. They rushed along the wall with a fresh burst of speed. Draco, Millie, Weasley, and Susan were at the front of the pack. Draco and Weasley were flying very close together and punching at each other. Harry wondered if Draco was carrying his wand. They might not have been allowed to have them during the race.

Glowing globes of red flame marked the course. It led out over the water of the great lake around the perimeter. Giant tentacles reached up out of the waves, horrid sucker-covered appendages that grabbed for the students. The squid was fast! It harried the racers for the whole circuit of the lake. Roger Davies tried to avoid one tentacle and got caught by two others. He lost hold of his broom and was dragged beneath the waves. He disappeared from the magical display, but immediately materialized in the middle of the pitch.

One lap of the lake complete, they were now directed along the wall and in to the Forbidden Forest. The trees flashed past fast enough to make you wince. It didn't take much for any of the dirtiest players to help guide their competitors into bad situations. The pack really thinned out here as many got up close and personal with the ancient trees. Then suddenly there was a new menace. Tree branches reached out with terrible purpose. The flyers now needed to stop fighting each other and simply try to survive being knocked down by fair imitations of the Whomping Willow.

As the first flyer emerged from the thick of the forest, the crowd began to cheer. They were on the last stretch now. They needed to make it back to the starting line.

Draco was in the lead. He, Millie, Weasley, Cho Chang, Airen Summerby, and a few of the foreigners moved in a constant struggle. There were no more obstacles now aside from the others. Chang slammed in to Millie, and she crashed in to two boys from Durmstrang. Draco got slammed by two Beauxbatons girls, but he twisted his body as tumbled and took them with him. Summerby took advantage of Chang and collided with her, but she grabbed on to his broom, bringing them both down.

Weasley crossed the finish line, and the Gryffindor section of the stands exploded in a frenzy of applause, cheering, and howling. Draco was hot on his heels, but just a moment too late. Displaying poor sportsmanship, he tossed his broom to the ground and stalked off the pitch.

"The winner is Ronald Weasley of Gryffindor!"

"Boo!" Harry jeered. "Weasley stinks!"

"Shut up, Potter," said Ginny behind him.

"Sorry, Ginny. Ronald stinks!" he revised.

Down on the pitch, Weasley, who looked completely gob-smacked that he had won. The representative from Cleansweep walked out carrying his prize.

"Mister Weasley, on behalf of the Cleansweep Corporation, I am pleased to present you with this prototype Model Eleven. You are a superior flyer, young man. Well done. Good luck in the future."

Weasley took the broom with reverence. Quite a few important-looking witches and wizards clustered around him, doubtless some of those agents Bletchley had mentioned.

"Look at him, the great tosser," Draco said venomously. "When did he get that good? How long has he been practising? Ginny, how come you didn't warn me about that?"

"You think I knew about it?" Ginny shot back. "I'm hardly his confidant these days. All I can think is that it was a Christmas present, but we spent the holiday here at the castle, so that's just a guess."

"Where would anybody who likes him that much get the money?" Draco sounded genuinely astonished. "I'm not trying to be snide; I really want to know."

"I'll see what I can find out."

* * *

Harry had arranged to meet Padma before choir practice. They rendezvoused outside the History of Magic classroom. They snogged for a bit, but it was too early to be assured of being uninterrupted, so they sat in the windowseat overlooking the courtyard and mainly talked.

"Care of Magical Creatures has gotten interesting. In a good way, I mean. It's always been rather interesting in the horrible way. Professor Hagrid has been indisposed for a few days, so we've had a substitute."

A smear piece on Hagrid had appeared in the Daily Prophet under Rita Skeeter's byline a few days after the broom race. While other, lesser journalists had mundanely reported the who, what, and how, she had gone in-depth in to Hagrid's background. The piece said publicly what had been noised about the school for ages -- that he had giant blood. It also went in to details of his expulsion following the death of Moaning Myrtle. What any of that had to do with the Triwizard Tournament he didn't know.

"Professor Grubbly-Plank is ever such a better teacher than him. Skrewts?! We had a very sensible lesson today with unicorns. It was so amazing! She had just the one, which was awesome enough because they're supposed to be really hard to catch, and it was so brightly white it made the snow all around it look grey. It had golden hooves and that spiral horn looked absolutely deadly. We girls were able to get close and pet it. I've never felt anything so soft in my life."

Millie had told Harry about the unicorns, but he listened politely as Padma raved.

"I'm glad I don't take that class. Ancient Runes and Arithmancy are much more useful. Of course neither of them is helping me figure out that stupid egg."

"No luck yet?"

"Naught."

"You sound worried."

"I am. End of February's not that far away. It sure looks a lot closer from this side of the new year. I don't know what to do. I don't even know what to try to prepare for. It was the not knowing that kept me up nights worrying about the first task. Now I can find out what the next task is, but I have to solve a stupid riddle first. I hate riddles. I'm not good with them at all. What if there's riddles in the task? I'm going to come in dead last, I know it. I can't count on being able to be tricky like I was with my broom. I'm not that lucky."

"I thought Slytherins made their own luck."

Harry chuckled humourlessly. "We try."

He spilled his uncertainties, glad to be able to just talk. Padma didn't offer a lot of suggestions; she wanted to know more about how he felt about things.

When he'd finished being a worrywart, Harry checked his watch. "We're going to be late for practice."

Despite horrendous performance, according to their conductor, the members of the choir left in high spirits. Harry urged his friends to go on ahead. Draco said he would wait at the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Potter?" the Sorting Hat inquired, seeing him remain beind.

"Hi, Hat," Harry replied. "I wanted to tell you I've decided to stop coming to choir practice."

"You're quitting? What on Earth for? I thought your voice was through cracking all the time. You're one of the best male voices I have left, sad as that may be."

"I'm sorry. I just need to reprioritise. The second task is coming up in a month and a half, and I still haven't figured out what I'm supposed to do. I need to focus on the egg."

"Ah, yes, you are a Triwizard champion, aren't you? I saw in your head the potential for many great things. So far, you have quite lived up to my expectations of you. I'm glad to see this year is no different. First place, I believe?"

"Yeah," Harry said, not feeling like arguing that he hadn't entered himself. "And if I want to stay there, I need to unravel this egg mystery."

"Apply some of that Slytherin cunning," was the Hat's advice. "Your house has historically done well in the tournament. I have the utmost faith in you."

"Thanks. I really am sorry. Choir's been lots of fun."

"I daresay you're the only one who still feels that way, Potter. The fancy is passing, I'm afraid. Soon I shall be relegated back to the shelf in the Headmaster's office throughout the year. Que sera sera. I have enjoyed my little diversion here. Perhaps in a few decades another student will come along thinking they can pull a fast one on the old hat, and I can give it another go."

"Another go? You mean this isn't the first time you've had a choir?"

"By magic, no! I had one the very first year I was created! It failed, as clubs often do, and I sat around bored until a firstie promised with all his heart that if I would only place him in Ravenclaw, he would do me any favour I asked. Naturally I asked for my choir back. What a fine Ravenclaw he was, too."

Harry hadn't thought for a long time about how Millie had bribed the Sorting Hat on their very first night at Hogwarts. At Harry's suggestion, which he had intended to be humorous, the soon-to-be Slytherins had tried to punish one of their enemies. Millie had offered a flat-out bribe to the Hat if it would sort the gawping Granger girl to the house of duffers, Hufflepuff.

"But was he really a Ravenclaw?" Harry couldn't help himself from asking. "I mean, would he have gone there if he hadn't said anything?"

"Oh yes, he was a brilliant student."

"So Granger, she-?"

"Ah, Granger," Hat said soberly. "Such a tragic end for such a bright prospect. She had great potential, that one. Ambitious enough for Slytherin, did you know?"

"Really?" A Muggleborn worthy of Slytherin? His friends would never believe it.

"Intellect more suited to a girl five years older. She memorized her books before even getting to school."

"I think I heard that somewhere."

"And a work ethic worthy of Helga herself. She wanted Gryffindor so badly, it nearly broke me to tell her she really wasn't suited. And she wasn't, you know. She argued, though. The stubborn ones usually want Gryffindor. She probably could have convinced me, if I hadn't agreed to Bulstrode's deal."

"So you sent her to Hufflepuff."

"Yes. It was an even toss between there and Ravenclaw. She would have excelled in either place, but Hufflepuff doesn't see a lot of stars. Their heroes are less illustrious. She should have done quite well there. Poor girl."

Harry really didn't know what to say. He hadn't known Granger and hadn't especially liked her. She'd made a spectacle of him, and she was rude, bossy, and obnoxious. None of that meant she was a bad person. He regretted the times when he'd stood by and let his friends bully her. He was very sorry she'd met a bad end at the hands of Tom Riddle.

"Yeah," he finally said out loud. "Sorry about the choir, Hat. Really."

"You just bring the Triwizard Cup back to Hogwarts, Potter. Do that, and I'll be happy."

to be continued...