They Shook Hands: Year Four (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Four

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

Chapter Twenty-One - A Brief Interlude for Lessons

Without any tasks to worry about for awhile, Harry settled back in to the routine of classes. He paid dutiful attention in lecture, he worked hard on his homework, and he did his best to learn everything put in front of him. He didn't devote a lot of extra time to discovering new and exotic magics. He needed a break.

Relaxation was on the menu a week later when another Hogsmeade weekend was scheduled. Moony was going to be in town, so Sirius had said. It would be good to see him. Harry planned to drag him to the Three Broomsticks and make him tell old stories over butterbeer.

Harry waited for Jenna and Pansy to emerge from the dorm. Draco had made plans to eat breakfast with Parvati and went up to the Great Hall early. Crabbe and Goyle came out after a bit and headed up as well. Tim ignored Harry's greeting and slouched in a chair in the corner. When Blaise emerged, she glanced in his direction before approaching Harry's couch. She didn't sit, but stood a few feet away.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Sleep well?"

"Not bad. You?"

"Well, thanks. Are you going to breakfast?"

"I was just waiting for Jenna and Pansy. Are they coming along?"

"They were still styling their hair. They take absolutely forever. They've quite turned in to proper frippets. I don't see the point of all that time in front of the mirror."

Blaise didn't need to spend ages making herself look beautiful. She looked good no matter what she'd been doing. It just didn't matter. But Harry wasn't about to say that to her.

"Pansy's nervous about seeing Terry today. It's their first real date."

"I'm glad Pansy has found a nice boy like Terry. He was very courteous to me at the Yule Ball."

"So why'd you leave him there?"

Blaise didn't answer. "I shouldn't have," she said instead. "I shouldn't have even agreed to go with him."

Harry had nothing to say that wouldn't take the conversation back to the uncomfortable subject of his failed relationship with Blaise. "I don't think he's holding a grudge."

"I'm glad."

There was silence for several moments. Harry was just about to say he'd see Blaise at breakfast when she suddenly asked, "What's the story with Michelle Holt? You took her to the Yule Ball, and now she's a complete pariah."

"I have nothing to do with it," Harry said truthfully. "I owed her a favour, so I took her to the ball. Apparently other people feel she needs to be put in her place."

"Well they're certainly doing that," Blaise huffed. "They're always engaged in floccinaucinihilipilification of anyone who doesn't flatter and faun and chap her lips on Pansy's bum."

"In what?" Harry's head was spinning from all the syllables tumbling from her lips. "Never mind. I really don't want to know."

"I think it's scummy. They've been doing it to me too, but I don't care."

"Really?" Harry was surprised. He knew there were many conversations he'd had with Pansy about how to handle Blaise, but he hadn't realized they'd been ruining her reputation.

"Not so bad as her, but yes."

"I'm sorry." He truly was. It wasn't right to drive her out of the group, but she'd more or less done it to herself. Why couldn't she just keep her crush to herself?

Blaise smiled. "Thank you, Harry. You really are a nice boy."

Oh no, had he crossed his signals?

Before Harry could cautiously gauge how severe his slip-up had been, Pansy and Jenna made an appearance and made a beeline for Harry. Their time in front of the mirror had been worth it. Pansy's black hair was all wavy, and the light make-up tones she'd chosen really made her look pretty when she smiled. Jenna had put on a white sweater and blue slacks under a blue robe, touching off her winter-wishful look with a shimmer of snowflakes on her cheeks.

"Blaise," Pansy said in a cheery tone. "Not off to Hogsmeade yet?"

"No, just catching up with Harry a bit. He was telling me about your date with Terry today."

Pansy smiled in a satisfied way. "Shouldn't have let him get away from you, Blaise."

"I have no chance of holding his interest when such a lovely termagant as yourself is on the prowl."

"Do you enjoy being a lexiphane, Blaise?" Jenna asked cheekily.

Blaise's eyes narrowed. She obviously knew what that word meant. Harry had no clue.

"Well, see you at breakfast, then."

She flounced off. Pansy and Jenna watched her go.

"Jenna, how did you accomplish that? I thought I'd have to talk down to her for at least five minutes to get her to leave."

"She just can't handle being called pretentious." Jenna looked quite pleased with herself.

"Is that what that means?" Harry asked.

"Yes. It's a good word. Blaise isn't the only one who can speak with more than two syllables."

"Shall we head up?"

Harry glanced over at the Gryffindor table as he stepped through the double doors in to the Great Hall. Weasley was on his feet and was now in a heated discussion with Draco. Parvati was standing at his side and trying to defuse the situation, but Weasley was working himself in to a frenzy.

Should he get involved? Draco could probably take care of himself. It was in front of the whole school, so Weasley might not be dumb enough to escalate past words. Harry moved towards the Gryffindor table anyway. His best mate was all alone.

"Do I really have to see you and listen to you while I'm trying to eat? I'm likely to lose my appetite." Weasley was not shouting, but his tone was full of disgust.

"Good thing you have a spare," Parvati interjected. "You could stand to skip a meal. You won't fall over and die."

"I'm a growing boy," Weasley defended.

"You're a boy all right," Draco said, cracking a smirk. "Parvati and I are headed to Hogsmeade later. Where's your girl, Weasley? Not able to follow up from the Yule Ball, eh?"

Weasley glared contemptuously at Draco. "Oi, Chrissy?"

The pretty brunette who had been Weasley's date to the Yule Ball was sitting a few seats away. "Yeah?"

"Wanna go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"All right, then."

Weasley turned back to the two Slytherins with a wide smirk on his face. "Nothing to it, Malfoy."

"You are having quite a spot of good luck, aren't you?" Draco said. "I'll have to ruin that for you."

"I told you once before, Malfoy; any place, any time. Did you want to duel or race?"

"I might like to match my Nimbus with your Cleansweep." Draco's drawl was in full force.

"Feeling like suffering another humiliating defeat? I did beat you in the race, after all."

"There's no giant squids on the Quidditch pitch."

"You want another match?"

"The time we played Quidditch, it was never finished, was it?"

"This is very true."

"Maybe. I'll float it by the lads and see what they say. You know you'll lose though. Harry will catch the Snitch hours before you manage to get up sixteen goals on us."

"I'm sure Potter is very impressive. We're all quite taken with his performance in the tournament. That was awfully sweet with your godfather in the lake, Potter."

Harry's blood ran cold. "Don't you talk about Sirius," he warned.

"Why not? It's all over the paper how much that Dark traitor means to you."

Weasley held out his hand, and Finnigan gave him a copy of the Daily Prophet.

The first thing Harry noticed was the picture. It was from the moments right after the second task. Harry and Sirius were clinging to each other.

"Were you worried about him, Potter? Did you think he was going to drown?" Weasley's voice was syrupy sweet and filled with all kinds of insincerity.

"Shut up, Weasley."

"Were you scared, Potter? Scared like a little baby? 'I'm Harry Potter, and I'm a widdle baby, and I didn't realize that Dumbledore would never ever ever let an innocent get hurt in the task!'"

"Stuff yourself, Weasley!" Harry's adrenaline was pumping full force. He wasn't even thinking about drawing his wand. He just wanted to hit Weasley in the face as hard as he could.

"Wah! I'm just a stupid little baby Potter, and I was scared!"

Harry lost his control. He launched himself at Weasley, who fell back against the bench. Draco grabbed Harry and pulled him away.

"No fighting in the Great Hall. That's just asking for detention."

"I'm going to hurt him!"

"He's not worth it right now. We'll get him. Later. With a plan. And magic. Trust me."

Harry took a shuddering breath and turned on his heel. He took it in great strides to the double doors out to the entrance hall. Belatedly, he realized he'd never gone to the Ravenclaw table to pick up Padma. Even though he was going to be spending most of the day with Sirius and Remus, they'd agreed to walk to the village together. Rather, she'd finally told him that she felt hurt when he rushed out of the Great Hall without her on other weekends. She was his girlfriend, she'd said quite primly, and it was beginning to be noticed.

There was nothing for it but to sit and wait for her to finish breakfast. He tried to ignore his rumbling stomach. He had made a rather dramatic exit. He wasn't about to make himself look even dumber by going back in.

Harry reached in to his pocket and pulled out a practice Snitch. It had been a Christmas present from Bletchley, accompanied by a note with orders to not get rusty. He tapped it with his wand, and wings emerged from the golden ball. The wings began to beat, and the Snitch lifted off of his palm. It began to zip around Harry's head, restricted to near-range.

With a lightning-quick motion, Harry snatched the Snitch from the air. He let it go and snagged it again quickly. He released it once more and swore as he missed the grab. The golden ball danced in front of his face, and it eluded him again as he tried to catch it. He pushed his irritation aside to focus on his technique.

He studied the Snitch as it fluttered around. He made a calculated movement and watched as it darted left. He didn't make a grab for it directly, but he was studying the responses it made. It reacted to him and his motions. If he could understand how it did that, he would be a better Seeker.

Harry continued to practise until he caught sight of Padma out of the corner of his eye. She was leaning against the marble pillar of the staircase, just watching him. She wore a light cloak of deep blue inlaid with bronze over intricately patterned robes. It was a night scene, and shooting stars criss-crossed the midnight sky of her chest. She had woven white ribbons in to her hair. The way her smile lit up her eyes made Harry's heart jump in to his throat. How had he managed to persuade this beautiful creature that he wasn't a downright putz? Surely it would be today that his careless tongue or clumsy body betrayed him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah. Nice moves."

"Just a little practise."

The early March weather was still cold, but the snow was mostly gone from the grounds. Harry and Padma held hands. When they reached the outskirts of town, Harry needed to turn off the main path. The Hog's Head Inn was set somewhat apart from the rest of the village.

"I'll see you later at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Yes. I don't know when."

"Then I'll wait for you. Or you'll wait for me."

"Until then."

"Bye."

They parted ways with a lingering kiss. His head spinning, a foolish grin on his face, Harry headed towards the Hog's Head.

Remus and Sirius were sitting in a booth. A pile of empty dishes cluttered the table, and the two men were lingering over a pot of tea.

"Harry!" Remus said. His former professor looked in good health. His face wasn't so thin anymore. There were no dark circles under his eyes. The grey in his hair did seem a little more prominent, and his moustache was getting bushy. It looked like he had a small rodent glued to his upper lip.

"Remus! Good to see you!" Harry didn't care about out-of-control facial hair. He was just glad that Remus seemed to be doing well.

"Sirius has been keeping me current on the tournament. You've done extremely well for yourself. You're a credit to Marauder trickery and Slytherin cunning."

"Thanks. I don't want to think about how desperate I'd be if I didn't have you and Sirius to help me. Snape's been tally too."

"Severus is a very knowledgeable wizard," Remus said with a nod. "You are fortunate to have his help."

"I think he's making it a point to one-up your advice," Harry confessed. Snape always had a little sneer in his voice when Harry told him of the plans Sirius and Remus had cooked up. He would disparage whatever they said and offer an elegant solution, one that had style.

"Fine by me," Sirius said bluntly. "If it keeps you safer, he can one-up me all day. He can't, of course, but he's welcome to try."

"He's never offered me a place to live," Harry replied. "That one-ups anything. He's not teaching me cool magic either. Well, he is. Not as cool, of course, but-"

"I understand. Shall we meander?" Sirius was smiling indulgently.

"Not yet. I missed breakfast."

"Why? Sleep through the alarm?"

"No, it's stupid. I don't really want to admit how stupid I was being."

"Fine, fine. I'll be glad to put down another plate myself."

Harry wolfed down an omlette with everything in it and washed it back with a glass of pumpkin juice. Sirius and Remus each ordered a toasted bagel with jam.

The path out of town to the Shrieking Shack was muddy. They had to walk on the very edge to avoid losing shoes to the sucking muck. The old house was dilapidated. Paint was peeling off the siding, and the windows were all boarded up. The three men proceded single-file behind the building.

They sat down cross-legged. Harry closed his eyes. He turned his thoughts inward. He tried not to let anything cross his mind. He focused on his breathing. In. Out. Nose. Mouth.

Suddenly, unbidden, an alien sense flooded his mind.

It was gone.

He tried not to think about it, not to analyse it. He continued to keep his mind clear.

Everything was dark. He was in a dirt hole. Musky scent spiked sharply in his nose. The sound of breathing was all around him. He could barely see anything, which was more than he should have been able to. The world looked different through the eyes of- of- whatever creature he'd become.

The one next to him suddenly perked her head up sharply. How he knew it was a female, Harry couldn't say. Her body was slender, with an elongated head and a pointed snout and short ears. She was about a foot and a half from head to tail. She chattered at him, and Harry knew she sensed him. He didn't know how to answer. He opened his mouth and-

Harry crashed back to his own body with the speed of a Quidditch accident. His head ached horribly. But he'd done it! Padfoot had told him he had an animal in his soul, and he'd been right!

"Well done, Harry!" Padfoot shouted. He and Moony capered around in a gleefully mad dance.

Harry gulped deep breaths. Sweat stood out in beads on his forehead. "What am I? Did you see me?"

"You're a mammal. About two foot long, really slender body and head. Brown fur. I'm not entirely familiar with the species. I've seen it before, but I can't remember what it's called."

"A weasel?" Harry asked incredulously. Please, Merlin, no!

"No, I don't think so. Maybe a ferret."

"That's no good either! I want to be something cool!"

"Enough of that," Padfoot said brusquely. "I heard enough whinging from Peter when he was a rat. It could be worse."

"Yeah, I know. But still. I thought I was going to be a bird of some kind. What with the wings and the feet and all."

"That was just to train your body to do the transformation. Not everyone gets to be cute and cuddly like me," Padfoot said outrageously, flashing in to his dog form. He rolled over on his back and kicked his paws endearingly.

"You're too much," Harry choked, laughing himself breathless.

"Well done, Harry, really good job." Moony looked fit to burst himself. "You've done it once. Now you just need to practise. Soon you'll be able to do it in the blink of an eye. Soon you'll be able to hold it as long as you want."

"Does it stop hurting?"

"Yes." Sirius was back to being a human. "After awhile, you won't even notice that moment of pain. It'll become as routine as a morning piss."

"Let's try again."

"You've done enough for today," Sirius disagreed. "You don't want to strain yourself. It would be very awkward to explain to Madam Pomfrey how you managed to exhaust your magic. Besides, it's past time for lunch."

Harry glanced at his watch and noted with a start that nearly three hours had passed. "I am hungry."

"Keep at it. You've achieved your form. Now it's just a matter of fine-tuning it."

"I'll keep working every day." Harry knew that to be a slight exaggeration, but he would try to put in a few minutes at least. It was safe enough for him to wander the dungeons on his own, and the tapestry room afforded him a modicum of privacy close to the common room. When he had more time, there was the Chamber of Secrets. His Animagus lessons were secret, so it was very fitting.

Lunch in the Three Broomsticks went well. Most of Harry's friends came by to say hello, and everyone glad to see Professor Lupin again. He told them about the tedious mundanity of working at a Muggle bookshop.

"I've been house-sitting Grimmauld Place while Sirius is staying in Hogsmeade."

"Has Kreacher been behaving himself?"

"Ever since you had that talk with him, he's been polite. He still hates me, but he fulfills his duties. I do have to keep an eye out for the silver flatware though."

"I think I need to have another conversation with him."

Harry had no desire at all to visit any of the shops in the village. There was no place more important than sitting at this table with his father's two best friends. He loved hearing old stories and hearing firsthand about pranks that were still talked about to this day. They stayed quite late, just chatting away the hours.

It was approaching time for dinner, and the only ones who remained were Draco, Padma, and Parvati. Harry was giving it his all, but he was blinking his eyes for longer and longer. When his head started nodding forward, he knew it was time to leave or end up with his face in his plate. Trying not to yawn through his goodbyes, Harry bundled himself against the chill of the evening and began the slow walk back to the castle.

Sirius and Remus escorted them as far as the gates. Draco and Parvati went on ahead to have a private snog before parting ways. Harry shook hands manfully with Remus and hugged his godfather tightly.

"We'll see you at Easter, okay?" Sirius whispered.

"Count on it."

After walking Padma up to Ravenclaw tower and going dizzy with her kisses, Harry lounged around the Slytherin common room. He didn't feel quite so groggy now that he'd had a breath of fresh air, a brisk walk, and a snog. His lethargy soon returned in front of the fireplace, and he forced himself to go to bed before he fell asleep on the couch.

Harry got a good night's sleep and woke up early on Sunday morning. Declining to lay in, he took his books out to the common room and did some work on his Potions essay. His friends eventually rose in ones and twos.

After breakfast came more studying. After lunch he snuck off to the Chamber of Secrets. With a simple recitation of the Featherfall Charm, he floated gently down the huge pipe to the damp cavern. Though Harry had cleaned up the scum and algae, he hadn't managed to stop up the holes in the rock where the moisture was seeping in. At least the water was clean.

Harry opened the magnificent door with a hissed word of Parseltongue. He strode down the length of the chamber and sat in the circle of filtered light beneath the statue of Slytherin. He ignored the hardness of the stone floor under him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the alien consciousness he'd experienced yesterday.

The musk was back in his nose. The chattering was back in his ears. In the very dim light, he saw the others. He stood on all four feet and ambled up the tunnel. Though it wasn't more than a foot wide, it was more than adequate for him. Working with four paws and a tail wasn't easy, but he managed. On the surface, he got a sniff of dry air. The world was filled with all manner of new and fascinating scents.

He had five toes on each paw. Each toe was tipped with a long, sharp claw. His tail, like the rest of him, was covered in short brown fur. He rocked back on his hind feet. He was able to perch quite comfortably. He explored his face with his paws. Small eyes and sharp teeth. So he was a meat-eater, a predator.

Harry blinked and crashed back to the Chamber of Secrets with a gasp of pain. He'd done it! He'd done it again! He'd made contact. Presumably he'd transformed as well. Now he just needed to know how to take the form while aware of the world, not whatever world his animal was in.

He ached all over. He lay back and unfolded his cramping legs. He stretched luxuriously, right there on the floor. He looked up, wondering where the light was filtering down from.

A quick check of his watch revealed that it was nearly tea time. The meditations really mucked with his sense of time. He hurried back up to the castle proper. Worn out from his efforts at Transfiguration, Harry retired to his room after tea. Yawning hugely, he laid down on the bed. Perhaps a nap before dinner. Yes, that would be just the ticket.

The world slipped away incredibly fast. Hours passed, and the next thing Harry knew, it was morning. He wanted to throw the alarm clock across the room.

It was far too early for classes, he thought, fumbling for his glasses. He rolled grudgingly out of bed. Yawning hugely, he picked up his bath things and headed for the shower.

Mondays were nice days. He got to see Padma in Arithmancy, and then she was on his mind all day until he got to see her in double Herbology. Even though everyone knew they were seeing each other, it was still fun to sneak glances across the greenhouse. But the long established groups were disrupted when Terry stopped Pansy at the door of the greenhouse she was about to enter with Harry, Draco, and Jenna.

"Would you like to work together today?"

"Love to," answered Pansy, blushing slightly and moving away from the other Slytherins to take his arm.

"Are we intermingling now?" queried Mandy who had been walking in with Terry. "In that case, can Goyle and I team up with you?"

"Sure," agreed Terry.

Goyle, who was close behind the group with Crabbe, looked a bit surprised at Mandy's forwardness, but smiled and moved over to a table with the other three.

Harry caught Padma's eye and gestured to the table he usually worked at. Jenna and Draco joined them. Millie and Crabbe joined up with Blaise and Tim, leaving the remaining Ravenclaws to sort themselves out.

The task that day was to prune the Flutterby bushes. Each looked like a quivering mass of butterflies attached to a bunch of twigs. There were bushes in all sorts of colors and patterns.

"Flutterby wings are the key ingredient in many Calming Draughts," lectured Professor Sprout as she plunked down several pots and a large glass jar onto each table. "Make sure you trim just below the joints of the wings on each twig, and don't damage them! Broken wings will render them ineffective and if used in a potion will only add to the nerves the patient is already feeling. Place the trimmings into these jars so they don't fly away."

"It seems a shame to trim them off," commented Padma. "They're so pretty."

"Pretty quick, you mean!" exclaimed Draco after trimming off a pair of wings that immediately sensed freedom and started to fly toward the greenhouse window.

"Quick, but not too quick for me," added Harry catching it as if it were a fragile snitch, and dropping it into the jar.

The boys quickly started a contest to see who could catch more Flutterby wings while Padma and Jenna trimmed the bushes.

At the end of class Harry and Padma walked up to the school together.

"I've got something for you," announced Harry, grinning at her.

"Oh really?" she asked.

"Yes."

With a bit of a flourish, Harry presented Padma with a twig with several pairs of bright blue Flutterby wings still attached.

"You thought they were so pretty, I had to sneak one for you."

"Oh, Harry! It's beautiful. You're so sweet."

"I do what I can."

Padma tucked the twig into her hair. The contrast of her shining dark tresses and the blue of the fluttering wings was very nice, thought Harry.

They walked to the main stairs, and Padma turned to Harry.

"Thank you. I'll see you at dinner."

She gave Harry a quick but thorough kiss and headed up to the stairs to Ravenclaw tower. Harry grinned and headed down to the dungeons.

Harry was slightly distracted through dinner that evening and in all of his lessons on Tuesday. It was hard to think about classwork when he just wanted to perfect his animal form. He wondered if he could justify skivving off and practising down in the Chamber.

But he made sure to pay the closest of attention in double Transfiguration on Tuesday. Despite the increasing difficulty of the subject, Harry had no problems doing any task assigned to him. His essays were miserable, but whenever Professor McGonagall called on him to perform in class, he was able to do it perfectly on the first try. They'd spent months on Cross-Species Switches and soon would be moving on. Old McGonagall had hinted at an evaluation soon, and only half of the Slytherins could even do it.

"Like this," Harry said to Jenna, correcting her grip slightly. "Try it now."

"Thanks."

"Pansy, have you got it?"

"I think so."

Harry watched her wand movements. "Make the left sweep a little shorter and only tap once."

"How do you understand all this, Harry? You and Terry, I swear."

"It's a gift," Harry said sassily. "You don't think I actually know what I'm doing, do you?"

But he did know what he was doing in Potions. Working with Draco was one of the smartest things he could have done. He wasn't forever being distracted by Blaise flipping her hair around or the enticing scents of her perfume like last year. He was really able to focus on the lessons, and he found his understanding of potion-making deepening.

Wednesday ended with double Potions, which Harry always enjoyed because they actually got to brew. After a brief review of the instructions, Professor Snape set them to work. Harry and Draco quickly began preparing the ingredients.

"I don't think we have enough powdered toad skin," Harry noted. "Shouldn't this be thicker?"

Draco was counting his stirrings under his breath. When he reached thirty, he set the glass rod on the edge of the cauldron. He shook his head. "It's just about right. If it still looks like this in ten minutes, we'll have to correct it, but let's wait and see."

"Okay." Harry checked the next step of the instructions again. "So do you really want to put together a game of Quidditch with Weasley?"

"I do. You haven't got a task to worry about. I need to get back on a broom again or I'll mad. Plus there's the fact that we never finished that match from the beginning of last year. It all makes perfect sense."

Harry began to finely slice a dandelion stem. "He's got that Model Eleven now. It'll actually be more of a contest. I think I could enjoy it."

"Maybe you could ask Krum if he wanted to play on our team."

Play Quidditch with Viktor Krum? Okay. "I wonder how badly he'd react."

"Let's ask him." Draco had a wicked look on his face. "We've got to let this bubble for another nine minutes."

Harry leaned across the aisle and peered in to Weasley's cauldron. The contents did not look to be going all that well. It was barely boiling, and it had yet to turn green.

"You might want to give that a few counter-clockwise stirs, Weasley," Harry offered helpfully.

"Piss off, Potter." Weasley was searching for something in the text, moving his index finger down the page.

"No, really. It'll help. Here-" Harry picked up the glass rod and stuck it in Weasley's cauldron. He precisely made two quick rotations, and the solution instantly began to boil.

"Huh?" Weasley seemed perplexed. "How'd you do that?"

"You overstirred it. Add a bit of toad skin, too."

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Were you serious about having that rematch?"

"You know I was. Why? Trying to chicken out?"

"Hardly," Harry scoffed. "Just making sure you're up to it. But I know you won't be able to put together enough proper players, so I've had another idea."

"I'm listening."

"We learned a new sport over the summer. It's called Quodpot, and you can have any number of players on a team. We can't furnish the eleven of standard play, but surely five or six Gryffindors could be found."

"I know of three right away," Weasley retorted. "Quodpot, eh? I've heard about it. Can't say I think it'll compare to Quidditch, but I'll give it a go."

"Good. Find out who's interested in Gryffindor. I'll ask around in Slytherin, and we'll talk later."

The whole Quidditch team was intrigued by the idea of playing a round of Quodpot with Gryffindor. That was seven people right there. Add in Draco, Millie, Tim the pillock, Arcen Bulstrode, Lucas Slater, Jeremiah Goodwinter, and Terence Higgs, and Slytherin could field fourteen players easily.

Word of the challenge got around on the ever efficient Hogwarts grapevine. By the time double Charms rolled around on Thursday afternoon, it was all anyone could talk about. Everyone was thirsty for details, but nobody knew anything for sure, so rumours flew fast and furious.

As Professor Flitwick lectured on Banishing Charms, Harry began prioritizing his list. Depending on how many players Weasley actually managed to round up, he might have to make some hard decisions. He had to put the list away, though, when they began practising the charm by attempting to send soft cushions across the room.

The list preoccupied him all through the evening as rumours continued to fly about who was signing up for Gryffindor. The Weasley twins were a given, Harry assumed. They'd been banned from the Interhouse Quidditch Cup, but they were allowed to play in pick-up games. The three Chasers were also a given. Add in Weasley himself, Thomas, Finnigan, and that made eight all but confirmed. Harry went to sleep that night feeling very confident in Slytherin's prospects.

Friday was a chance to sleep in. Neither he nor Draco was taking Care of Magical Creatures, and he was glad for that. Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle had plenty of horror stories to share. Old Professor Kettleburn had retired to spend some quality time with his remaining limbs, and Hagrid had a vastly underdeveloped sense of danger as it regarded towering awful beasties with a thirst for blood. Today though marked a pleasant surprise. When they met back up in the greenhouses, Millie told them all about nifflers.

"It was actually a good lesson, wouldn't you know? He had a whole bunch of these ugly cats. They're furry with big ears. They look like they got smashed in the face. We each got one and had to walk it around the yard so they could dig up leprechaun gold."

"Weasley must have tried to slip some of it in his pockets, right?" Draco asked.

"Professor Hagrid told us up front that it wouldn't last. Doesn't mean he didn't try. I liked them. Nifflers, I mean. They seem pretty smart, and apparently they're good at sniffing out suspicious people."

"Maybe we could borrow one and figure out who put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire," Draco speculated.

They had spent a lot of time trying to solve the mysteries of the tasks and none at all on tracking down who the bad guy was. Harry hadn't heard anything further from Professor Snape or from the headmaster. He hoped they would be able to figure it out before he met with some messy accident.

After Herbology, Harry walked back to the castle hand-in-hand with Padma. She nudged him and wordlessly tilted her head. Harry followed her eyes and saw Pansy and Terry, who had stopped walking and now stood on the dirt path with their lips touching.

"Way to go, Pansy," Harry said quietly.

"I'm happy for him," Padma agreed. "He was really crushed about Blaise, you know. He told me while we were dancing that night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't agree with Pansy on everything, but I think she'll be good for him."

"Like you're good for me?" Harry couldn't resist interjecting.

"Yes, like that."

They parted ways in the entrance hall, and all the Slytherins headed up, while the Ravenclaws went down.

Professor Moody was waiting for them as they filed in to the Defence classroom. They were always on their guard, for he had ambushed the seventh years again upon the return from holiday. He had also ambushed the sixth years. While Harry didn't think Moody would do them permanent harm, he was crazy enough to make them very uncomfortable.

"Sometimes you can't avoid being hit by a spell. Either your enemy is too quick with his casting or you're not nimble enough to dodge. For that reason, wizards have developed magical shields. A very simple shield is all you need some times. There's no need to expend a lot of energy just to block one curse before you go back on the offensive. Energy you waste early in combat is energy you can't draw on later to save your arse. You should already know this spell, but if you don't, the incatation is aegis vocare."

"Aegis vocare."

"Good. You all seem to know it. The fourth year Gryffindors certainly didn't. They picked it up readily enough, so let's see how you do. Malfoy! Front and centre!"

Draco stood at the front of the class. He bowed rakishly to Moody and assumed a dueling stance.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Aegis vocare!" A faint sheen of white light appeared around Draco. Moody's spell deflected up in to the ceiling.

"Good! Five points to Slytherin! Now, this spell is only good for a few moments, and it will protect you from only one curse. It works best if you're able to keep moving and dodging. Sometimes you're trapped. Sometimes you can't get away. It would be pointless to keep casting this spell, because you would tire yourself and be totally on the defensive. In those situations, you'll want the more powerful Shield Charm. Protego!"

"Protego!"

"Good. This more powerful shield will deflect multiple hexes and curses or one higher powered spell. It will protect you from anything except the Unforgiveable Curses. Malfoy! Cast a spell at me!"

Draco paled considerably. "What?"

"Take your wand, point it, and curse me."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I'm not stupid. You'll wipe the floor with me."

"I just want to do a demonstration."

"That's what I said!"

"Curse me, Malfoy. Or do I need to start taking back those points I just awarded?"

Nervously, Draco pointed his wand at the Defense teacher. "Furunculus!"

The red light that came out of Draco's wand was absorbed by the bright, transparent blue light of Moody's shield.

"Again."

Draco continued casting the Boils Hex, and Moody's shield didn't so much as quiver.

"Switch it up. Would you keep using the same spell in battle? Once you see something is ineffective, change your tactics. Show me what you've got."

"Petrificus totalis!"

"What are you trying to do, Malfoy, tickle me? Curse me."

The spell that Draco cast was an ugly yellow light. It bounced off of Moody's shield and buried itself in the classroom door.

"That's better. Learn that one from your father, did you? He wouldn't make that big of a mistake." Professor Moody turned to the class. "You see how the shield holds? Note how I have done nothing else since his first spell. He is spending energy. He is tiring himself. I can deal with him at my leisure. Obstringere!"

Draco tried to jump back as magical ropes reached for him. He failed. He was quickly hog-tied and helpless. His wand clattered to the floor next to him.

"The Protego shield gives you a few moments to collect yourself. Catch your breath, stand up, or move in an exposed area to seek better cover. Then you can go back on the offensive. Now, you're going to pair up and try deflecting each others' hexes. Keep it simple. I want you to try both shields."

Harry found himself standing across from Tim. He groaned, looking around for anyone else to partner with. Pillock or not, Tim knew a lot of nasty curses. Draco and Pansy were glaring at each other. Though they acted polite, it was obvious that they still harboured ill feelings. Pansy already had her wand out, and she looked eager to lay a hex on Draco if she could.

"I guess it's us."

Tim's face was hard. "Guess so. I'll go first."

Harry swallowed. He was doomed.

Tim cast his first spell. It was the Tickling Charm, one of Tim's favourites. He liked to distract his opponent immediately.

Harry snapped out, "Aegis vocare!"

The spell bounced in to the floor. So did Tim's Disarming Charm, Jelly Legs Jinx, and Full-Body Bind with a motion of Harry's wand and two magic words.

Harry wasn't getting a chance to get a spell off. He cast the Protego Charm, unfamiliar magic, and got ready to dodge to the side if it failed.

The shield held! It took two more spells before it collapsed in a blue shimmer. Harry had caught his breath, and he recast the shield. Now it was time to strike!

Harry sent a volley of hexes at Tim. He tried to not use his favourites, which Tim would be well-acquainted with. He slipped in a few rounds of the Conjunctivitis Curse and was disappointed when Tim managed to dodge.

Tim cast the Protego shield and lashed back with a cascade of icicles. Harry had forgotten that they were taking it in turns. Tim certainly wasn't playing like he was playing.

Harry's shield, which had improved each time he cast it, was now not so strong. He and Tim were the last ones standing. They fought to a stand-still. Tim's Full-Body Bind failed to even materialize. Harry was too tired to crow, but his delight quickly turned to dismay as his Disarming Charm fizzled halfway.

"Well done, lads!" Moody congratulated them roughly. "Put your wands away now. Sit down before you fall down."

Harry collapsed in to the chair with relief. Wow, had that been good practice for the third task! Tim had been an unknown. It had been a long time since they had duelled. He had gotten better. Harry had improved even more.

"Nice job, mate," Draco whispered to him. "Really well done."

"A fine demonstration, though a little impromptu. Twenty points each, lads. I don't think I can give any better example of the usefulness of a shield. Thanks to your skill, you both managed to survive. In a real battle, chances are you would have lasted long enough for reinforcements. That's about the best you can reasonably hope for. Always assume that your opponent is better than you. Never believe for an instant that you have the upper hand. Expect treachery at every turn. Expect to die, and you will fight that much harder to cling to life. Your responses will be sharper, your movements quicker. The adrenaline will flow through your veins like molten lava. Embrace it. Use it."

The bell rang. Everyone hurried to put away their quills and parchment.

Harry looked at Tim. "Nice duel."

"Yeah. Pretty good."

"You've learned some new tricks."

"So have you."

"I've had a reason to."

"So you have."

"Still convinced I got myself in to it?"

"I have no reason to suspect otherwise. You're in first bloody place. You're probably going to win the third task as well and all the miserable glory. It's all going according to your plan."

"Except it's not my plan. I'm just doing my best to survive."

"It's not bad."

"Was that a compliment I heard?"

Tim snorted. "Maybe."

Maybe Tim was starting to come around. At this rate, he'd be convinced well after the tournament was over, but at least there was progress. Harry would accept it, meagre though it was.

Getting from Defence to Astonomy was always a bit of a hustle. There was seldom time for diversions, and even happening across Weasley couldn't distract Draco and Harry. But today Harry wanted to ask a simple question.

"How many have you got so far, Weasley?" he called down the corridor.

"Baker's dozen," Weasley retorted. "And I'm still recruiting."

Harry didn't respond, not wishing to get in to a confrontation that might make them late. "Me too."

Professor Sinistra was waiting impatiently for them. Late afternoon was her favourite time to teach, and she would often begin the lesson before the bell even rang. That usually wasn't a lot of time, but when Sinistra was fired up, she was hard to stop. That was the case today, as she went on and on about the gibbous moon and what magical effects were affected by it. The last bell rang, and Harry started to stand up.

"Back in your seats," she said as soon as the ringing stopped. "We're not finished here."

Stifling a groan, Harry uncorked his ink bottle again and continued to take notes. How could she do this to them? It was Friday! It was the weekend! It just wasn't fair.

Professor Sinistra talked for another five minutes, with all the Slytherins except Pansy and Crabbe squirming in their seats. She finished with the waxing gibbous and started to move on to the waning gibbous when Draco could no longer contain his discontent.

"Professor!" he complained. "Enough already, please!"

Sinistra glared at him with narrowed eyes. "Mister Malfoy, you do not appreciate the beauties of the heavens. Off to snog a beauty of the earth, are you?"

Draco could banter with the best of them, but having a teacher call him out on his snogging set him back on his heels, his cheeks burning.

"Ah, youth. I am not so ancient I forget what it is to feel that surge of euphoria. Very well, off with you then."

They bolted.

Down in the common room, Harry sat on one of the comfy sofas with most of his friends clustered around.

"Hey Ginny," Draco called out as the third years headed out to the library. "Join us, won't you?"

Ginny seemed surprised that Draco was addressing her directly. Even more startling was his use of her given name. Usually he called her Weasley, but not in any sort of nasty tone. She walked over to the fourth years, and Draco made room for her to sit next to him. With a wary expression on her face, she sat.

"What's up?" she asked.

"We've challeneged your brother and the Gryffindors to a game of Quodpot."

"Really? I take it he accepted?"

"He did. We're putting a team together-"

"And you want me to play? I'd love to."

Harry chuckled at Ginny's forwardness. He didn't even know that she liked to play Quidditch.

"You fly?" Draco sounded surprised. "Well, talk to Harry, and he'll add you to the list. But no, I want to know about your brother."

"Thinking of asking him out now?"

"No, his broom."

"You want to know about Ron's broom? Sounds personal."

Everyone laughed at that, even Draco.

"Can you be serious for a moment, please? He flew a Cleansweep Ten to qualify for the broom race. Where did he get that? Is he going to loan it out for this match?"

"He borrowed Charlie's broom to try out. He gave it back."

"Because he has that Model Eleven," Draco said worriedly. "We need to figure out what we're up against."

"So Harry, about that roster," Ginny said.

Harry had put together a starting eleven for the match against Gryffindor. Building from the seven members of the Quidditch team, adding Draco, Millie, and Tim gave him ten. He'd asked Higgs, the boy who'd played Seeker on the team previously, and the answer had been yes. Additionally, four of the third years had expressed interest as well. If Weasley managed to scrape up the players, Harry was prepared.

Wishing to do the thing properly, Harry and Draco had written a letter to the American lads they'd met at the World Cup, asking to borrow a Quod. The return package arrived after several weeks, complete with instructions. Their friends from across the pond had also sent a whole load of pointers, such as how to tell when you were about three seconds away from being blown up: the vibrations began to be detectable. In the match they'd played at the World Cup, Harry hadn't been able to really focus on figuring out the Quod because he'd been so busy trying not to be fouled.

The Slytherins had persuaded Professor Snape to brew the potion that prevented the Quod from exploding. The recipe was rather complicated, and Harry hadn't understood all of the instructions. With an amused glint in his eye, the Potions Master had promised that the cauldron would be on the pitch at the appointed time.

That day was April first, and Slytherin faced Gryffindor on a cool morning, where clouds drifted rapidly through the sky and the sun was playing peek-a-boo. Slytherin players wore official team Quidditch robes of green with silver trim. Gryffindor wore red with gold.

Harry carried his Firebolt; Draco had his Nimbus 2000. The rest of team was equipped with various Cleansweeps and Comets. The best broom on the other side was Weasley's Cleansweep Eleven prototype, but he didn't seem to be using it. Instead, he was holding a-

"Where the hell did Weasley steal a Firebolt from?" Draco demanded in an astonished whisper. "This isn't good. He might actually pose a threat. Imagine that."

"We'll whip him," Harry said reassuringly, but he was privately suddenly very nervous. The unexpected presence of another top-notch broom, let alone a Firebolt, might throw off everything. Where had Weasley gotten it? And how had it managed to remain a secret?

"Oh, I know," Draco replied. "But he has that broom for a reason. I want to know what it is."

"Well let's find out, shall we?"

Harry and Draco stepped forward, with Bletchley moving up to stand on Harry's left. Weasley, Johnson, and McClaggan came forward to meet them.

Harry did a quick count of the Gryffindors and noted with glee that they were one short of a proper team. "You don't have enough players to make regulation, Weasley," he sneered. "You have to forfeit."

"Just hand a broom to Longbottom," Draco drawled. "He can be the April Fool."

The Slytherins burst in to laughter, hooting and jeering.

"Shut up, Malfoy. I had one of mine back out at the last minute. She heard my brothers joking about how it was rougher than Quidditch and decided she'd rather not break a nail."

"More of that legendary Gryffindor courage, I see," Draco noted with a serious nod of his head. "Most impressive."

"Shut up, Malfoy. This isn't anything more than an exhibition. I've got ten players, Potter. You want to do this or not?"

"We'll do it," Harry said, as though he'd never considered otherwise. He, Draco, and Bletchley returned to the rest of the team. "Tim, off you go."

"What?!" Tim sounded very upset. "What do you mean, 'off you go'?"

"We've got too many players. Take a seat."

"Bugger that, Potter! I was one of the first people to sign up for this!"

"And you're also the least experienced flyer. Millie, Draco, and I were running drills all summer at Malfoy Manor. Where were you? Plus we have experience playing this game. Everybody else is on the team."

"What about Higgs?"

"What about Higgs?" Higgs demanded to know.

"Well, he's not on the team. What practice has he had lately?"

"You mouthy little worm, Nott," Higgs snarled. "I was playing Quidditch before you were even Sorted."

"You were never starting Seeker," Tim shot back. "You've only been a reserve."

"Which is more than you've been," Higgs said, folding his arms across his chest. "I trained with the team, and I at least went out for it. Now, unless you want me to ask my former teammates and good friends to escort you off the pitch and behind the stands for a thrashing, I suggest you go quietly."

"Yeah, what he said," Bletchley added. "If you want a hope of making the team next year, Nott, you'll scamper."

Maybe it was the threat from the Slytherin team Captain, but Tim stalked off the pitch without another word. He did not go in to the stands to cheer on his house; Harry saw him head back towards the castle.

Ten players wasn't bad. It would be a lot more wild than Quidditch, that was for sure.

Lee Jordan was commentating, as he did for Quidditch. "And welcome sports fans to another exciting match here at Hogwarts. Today rival teams from noble Gryffindor and sneaky Slytherin will meet in the skies in a match of Quodpot!"

The crowd roared with approval.

"The rules of the game are this: Pass the Quod and dunk it in the cauldron of bubbling doom that you see in the centre of the pitch. If you sink it, that's a turn over, and the other team has to bring it out to the perimeter. If the Quod explodes in your face, you turn it over on the spot, and the other team gets a point. First to ten wins!

"Introducing the Gryffindor team: Bell! Finnigan! Frobisher! Johnson! McClaggan! Spinnett! Thomas! Weasley, Weasley, AAAAAAAND WEASLEY!"

The red and gold section of the stands cheered and hollered.

"Representing Slytherin today are: Bletchley! Bole! Bulstrode! Derrick! Higgs! Malfoy! Montague! Potter! Pucey! AND Warrington!"

"The Third!" Warrington called out, lost in the noise made by those wearing green and silver.

"All the normal rules of Quidditch apply where reasonable. That means no blagging, no blatching, no blurting, no cobbing, no wobbing, no sobbing, no wands, no weapons, and no potions of a war-like nature. Gryffindor, are you ready?"

"Yah!"

"Slytherin, are you ready?"

"Up Slytherin!" they screamed together.

"Take your places!"

All twenty flyers took to the skies. Slytherin began to move in a sinusoidal pattern over the cauldron of bubbling potion in the centre of the pitch. The Quod sprang out and in to the air. With a roar from the crowd, the game was on! Alicia Spinnett got her hands on it first. She drove for the cauldron, passing to Johnson. She avoided a swipe from Warrington and received the Quod back. Quick as lightning, Warrington snatched it away from her and passed it out to Pucey, who dodged around Johnson and passed to Montague. He checked hard in to Bell, who shoved him back just as fiercely. She managed to rip the Quod free, and it floated down gently until McClaggan zoomed by and scooped it up. He twisted and turned, evading everyone. He had just gotten past Bletchley, who was guarding the cauldron, when there was a thunderous detonation, complete with fireball and black smoke. McClaggan wiped soot off his face, looking quite surprised.

"Slytherin scores the first point. Hey, McClaggan, learn to share!"

McClaggan ungraciously hurled the Quod at the nearest green robe, which happened to be Bole. Play immediately resumed, and Bole's throw to Derrick was intercepted. One of the Weasley twins came away with the ball, and they passed it back and forth between them. Higgs careened through the space between them on a crazy angle to take it back. Harry zoomed after him, and they traded a bit. Harry faked a throw, and it was a good thing he did, because Weasley had stuck his big Firebolt in the mix. If Harry hadn't faked the pass, it would have been an interception. As it was, Harry threw the Quod to Draco.

Draco and Millie carried the Quod deeper in to the Gryffindor formation. They'd been working very hard all summer to hopefully impress Bletchley, even if they didn't make the team. Harry had helped, but these two were much better at Chasing. It translated well to this game, and they had played before.

Draco slammed the Quod in to the cauldron with a triumphant cheer. "Up Slytherin!"

"Is that a point?" Pucey asked.

"No, you only get a point if the Quod blows up on them. Gotta keep them from passing."

Spinnett took the Quod out for Gryffindor. The three Chasers launched in to a Hawkshead Attack Formation and came screaming down towards the cauldron. Harry had tried that against the Americans, and he had shared the knowledge of their response with his teammates. Slytherin's Chasers began to weave in a pattern called Birch's Defence. Bell's throw on the cauldron was blocked by Montague's tail twigs, and he batted the Quod to Millie, who flew out to begin a new assault.

The action of frequent passing reminded Harry of exciting Quidditch matches. He found himself wondering if some wit in the crowd would release a Golden Snitch just for kicks and giggles. Actually, that would be a jolly prank he wouldn't have minded playing if he weren't playing.

Bole couldn't get the Quod away in time and was the second victim of an explosion. The score was now tied at one each.

"And Weasley takes possession of the Quaffle- er, Quod. That's Ron Weasley, Gryffindor's racing champion, not riding his prototype Cleansweep Eleven. He's got a Firebolt between his legs, folks, and I have no idea where it came from. Attracting some sponsorship deals, perhaps? Weasley passes out to Weasley. That's Fred Weasley, former Gryffindor Beater, who passes to Weasley. That's George Weasley, former Gryffindor Beater. And speaking of Weasleys, I heard a rumour the other day that Charlie Weasley, former Gryffindor Seeker, might return to play for England!"

"Jordan! This is not Weasley Chat!" McGonagall wasn't too pleased with the commentator's blithering chatter. Harry absently wondered what sort of colour commentary she would find acceptable.

"The three Weasley brothers have penetrated most of the way to the cauldron of- what is that stuff, anyway? I think it might be Professor Snape's next homework assignment. Oh, but the Quod explodes! And Ron Weasley wipes himself off as the Slytherins pull ahead two to one."

Harry tucked the Quod under his arm and dove for the cauldron. With his speed and Seeker skills, he hoped to take advantage of the Gryffindors' inexperience to sink the Quod. Frobisher and Bell took swipes at him, but Harry swerved tightly. McLaggan tried to foul him, but Harry put on the brakes, and he crashed in to Spinnett, who was coming to help.

The vibrations came on very suddenly. Harry almost didn't remember what it meant, but he threw the Quod out to Bletchley, who traded it back and forth with Higgs, Bole, and Derrick before muscling past Gryffindor's Terrible Triplet of Chasers to sink the ball again.

It was like Quidditch, but yet not at all. There was loads of fast and furious action, which had the crowd roaring with delight.

"Bell to Johnson, Johnson to Bell, Bell back to Johnson, to Spinnett, to Bell, to Weasley, to Weasley, to Spinnett, to Weasley again!"

Even Lee Jordan's glib tongue was having trouble keeping up with all the plays being made.

"And the Quod explodes!" Jordan announced with dismay. "Three-one, Slytherin!"

Harry, Draco, and Millie passed the Quod back and forth, keeping it away from Spinnett and Johnson. The two girls were very, very good as Chasing. Harry ditched the Quod out to Warrington, who drove in with Pucey and Montague to dunk it again.

The Weasley brothers managed to get past Bole and Derrick, who sorely missed their Beaters' bats. Higgs managed to get a hand on the Quod, but he was dogged by the brothers, and the Quod exploded.

"Higgs gets a taste of soot. Three to two, Slytherin, but Gryffindor is catching up fast!"

Slowly but surely, the Slytherins crept towards ten points. Gryffindor fought bravely, earning a hard seven points. The last point came as Draco blocked Finnigan from handing the Quod off to Thomas. Both of them came away covered with scorch marks.

"Yes!" Harry cheered.

The Slytherins took a victory lap of the pitch while the Gryffindors sank down in dejected defeat. The crowd cheered, the neutral houses of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, as well as their visitors from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, were evidently most impressed with the demonstration of a new broom game.

Harry landed and was immediately mobbed by his friends. Pansy was jumping up and down and shrieking with excitement. Crabbe and Goyle were bellowing congratulations. The third years were a babble of amazed recountings of the most impressive plays of the game.

Jenna had her arms wrapped around Warrington's neck. Their kiss lasted a bit longer than the polite three seconds, and the Beaters began to snigger. Harry called out, "Get a room!"

Padma broke through the crowd of Slytherins to throw herself at her boyfriend. Harry caught her and lifted her up in his arms, spinning her around in a circle as she lowered her face to his. Their lips met in a sweet kiss that was the greatest reward of an arduous trial.

"Hey!" Draco yelled at him. "Get a room!"

Despite their desire to celebrate the win, every one of the players was covered in soot. The showers were calling in a no-nonsense sort of manner. Millie went alone in to the girls' locker room.

"The way we crowded Johnson right at the end there was smashing," Higgs celebrated.

Harry sat down on the bench and began to unlace his leathers. "She still got the pass off to Bell."

"She's good. Not good enough to get past Bole and Derrick, of course."

"That hit you gave her was brutal," Draco said to those worthies. "I'm impressed she didn't drop right out of the sky."

"Bell's a tough little minx," Bole replied.

Harry pulled off his Quidditch robe and clothes and dropped them to the floor. He grabbed his towel and headed for the showers.

"Pretty cute, too," Derrick added. "What I wouldn't give to give her a ride on my broomstick."

"Nah, I'd rather Chang. Bell's too tiny for me."

Harry scrubbed the soot off his skin with gusto. He stuck his head under the spray and the roar of falling water filled his ears.

"Yeowch!"

Harry jumped in surprise as Draco yelped in pain. He frantically wiped water from his eyes, turning around defensively to see Draco clutching his behind

Bletchley stood there with a twisted towel floating in the air next to him. He wore a manic grin and only a green towel wrapped around his waist.

"What the smeg?" Draco yelped. There was no defending himself except physically; he was completely starkers.

"Suck it up, Malfoy. I hear rumours you want to make the team next year. You're going to have a hell of a time unseating my Chasers. You think you have what it takes?"

"I've got it. Didn't I show it out there today? I flew my damnedest, because I knew you'd be watching. Tell me you weren't watching."

"I was watching. I saw some moderately decent flying from you. I also saw you suck flame three times. What do you have to say to that?"

"Quaffles don't explode, Bletchley," Draco said scathingly. "I was able to hold on to the Quod that long against multiple opponents."

"That is true. But you also had lots of intercepted throws. If you can't improve that, you're never going to make the team. Hold him."

Bole and Derrick grabbed Draco's arms from behind. Draco struggled, but he was helpless against the sheer muscle of the team Beaters. Draco had been working out lately; there was not an ounce of fat on his lean, hard frame. It was still hopeless.

Bletchley raised his wand, and the towel flew through the air. It soaked itself under the shower before retwisting and moving sinuously back and forth. Draco yelped as sharp cracks began to ring as the rat-tail struck him over and over.

"There's no crying in Quidditch, Malfoy," Bletchley taunted.

Draco's reply was unfit for gentle ears. As it were, the lads laughed heartily.

"You want to be lead Chaser? You need to be tough. How tough are you?"

"I don't know how to quit!" Draco gritted his teeth, fighting to hold it back.

"Can you fight?"

"I'll keep fighting with every breath in my body."

"For the glory of Slytherin?"

"Up Slytherin! Up Slytherin! Up Slytherin, damn you! Now let me go!"

The towel wrapped around Draco's head, and he fell to the floor trying to pull it away.

"Bletchley! This isn't funny!"

The team members disagreed. The Chasers that Bletchley was staunchly defending were hooting with laughter. Harry felt sorry for Draco, but the Captain was well within his rights to determine the suitability of any candidate for a position on the team in whatever manner he saw fit.

Draco wisely kept his grumbling to a minimum as they finished with showers, dried off, and got dressed again. Spirits were high as they headed back to the castle for the celebration.

It was an unspoken decision to skip tea and dinner in order to party that much more effectively. The older kids gathered in front of the fireplace, sipping smuggled alcohol from innocuous flasks. Harry and his friends claimed a corner of the common room. He, Draco, and Millie sat on a couch and basked in the admiration of their fellow Slytherins. Arcen Bulstrode and Jeremiah Goodwinter got in to a heated play-by-play retelling of the middle portion of the game where several fouls had been called.

The evening wore on, and the actual match was eventually talked out for the moment. Talk turned to the sport of Quodpot in general, and several people speculated about starting a proper club. Such talk was not limited to Slytherin, for Harry even heard McClaggan talking to his fellow Gryffindors about it the next morning at breakfast.

to be continued...