Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 5

Tryouts and Tutoring

Ron was very quiet the next morning when Harry arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Is Hermione here?" asked Harry hesitantly, glancing around.

Ron shook his head mutely. "I haven't seen her since last night." He stared across the table moodily, avoiding Harry's gaze. Ginny sighed and motioned for Harry to sit down.

"He won't speak to anyone," she said in a low voice, glancing at her brother. "Not even me."

"Have you seen Hermione?" asked Harry urgently.

Ginny shook her head. "Lavender's pretty sure she heard her come in late last night, but her bed was empty this morning."

"At least she wasn't in the library all night," said Harry grimly, shaking his head.

"It wouldn't have been comfortable in there. Besides, Hermione wouldn't have wanted to have been caught by- oh, hi, Hermione."

Harry turned, scooting along the bench to make room for her. "Are you ok?"

"Hmmm? Yes, I'm fine." Hermione's gaze was distant, as if she were thinking of something else, and she glanced more than once at the end of the table near where the teachers were sitting. "Is Ron here?"

Harry nodded nervously, wondering is Ron and Hermione could scream louder than a Howler from Mrs Weasley could.

"Could you . . . ?" Harry stood up quickly, banging his knee on the bottom of the table. Hermione smiled at him and slid quickly into his spot, next to Ron.

Harry sat in her vacated seat, exchanging a worried look with Ginny.

"Morning, Ron," said Hermione, her face suddenly pale.

Ron grunted, still staring across the table. Neville, who was sitting on his other side, tried to move, pushing Dean to the floor in the process.

"I was, um, thinking about last night and- you're not-" Hermione stopped, and Harry was almost sure she turned back to look towards the teachers' table again.

"I'm sorry about what I said last night," she said abruptly, her cheeks burning. "You're not really as bad as- as Malfoy is." With every word Hermione's voice got softer until she was barely speaking in more than a whisper.

"I just don't think it's right to make fun of him," she added, desperately twisting in her chair. "Ron?" Harry stared at his silent best friend, furiously willing him to acknowledge Hermione's apology.

"It- it's ok, Hermione," said Ron at last, his face unusually pale. "I'm sorry for- er, yeah, I'm sorry." He ducked his head, looking very abashed.

Hermione couldn't resist grinning at his sudden shyness. "Do you want to take a walk around the lake?" Ron started, peering at her nervously.

'Ok, I guess so," he said feebly, looking as if very much wanted to be somewhere else. Harry began to get up and follow them, when it occurred to him that maybe Hermione had wanted a more private chat.

"Er," he began, glancing from Hermione to Ron. "I'll just wait here, shall I?" Hermione looked amused. "Don't be silly, Harry. You can come, too." Grinning sheepishly, Harry stood up and followed her out the Great Hall. The look of relief on Ron's face was almost comical.

Absent-mindedly, Hermione stared out across the lake, sitting down underneath a huge oak tree. Ron and Harry slid down beside her on either side. In the distance they could see one of the giant squid's tentacles rise above the surface, almost as if it were waving.

"Do you know if anyone plans on trying out tonight for Beater?" asked Hermione, not really caring for an answer.

"Chaser," corrected Harry and Ron together.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hmm, yes, that would make a big difference, I suppose." Neither of the boys seemed to catch her sarcasm.

"You guys have to stop fighting," said Harry abruptly, breaking the silence. He shifted to face them, a look of determination on his face. "You yell at each other every night now, and it's not fun for the rest of us." Hermione blushed, blinking at the ground. She knew instinctively that Ron was red, too. It seemed Harry had guessed her real reason for wanting to come for a walk, and was also aware of her inability to find the right words to express herself. She flashed him a grateful, apologetic look.

"It's because of Malfoy, isn't it, Hermione," said Ron in a quiet voice. He paused, obviously struggling to find words. His next sentence seemed to pain him. "I- I'll stop, er, talking about him if you want- in front of you, that is."

Hermione was silent, wondering desperately how she could communicate to them that she didn't want them to make fun of him period- without them finding out about Malfoy. She sighed inwardly. She could never ask Ron to stop hating Malfoy, not after all the insults and jeers he'd had to endure for years about his family.

Hermione smiled at him, accepting his compromise. "Thanks, Ron. Don't talk about him in front of the first years, though. I don't want them to start at Hogwarts hating the Slytherins." Maybe that would keep him from talking in front of the person he thought was Conrad. She knew Harry and Ron were silently asking each other about her strange behavior.

Hermione wished again she hadn't promised Malfoy so quickly she wouldn't tell them. Maybe she'd ask him if he'd changed his mind that afternoon in the library . . . the library! Hermione started, flustered. She wanted to get all her books and notes ready before it was time to meet Malfoy, plus she felt the need to check on him and make sure he wasn't somehow defacing Gryffindor. It had occurred to her on their walk outside that the Slytherin they despised the most was now living in Gryffindor, a Slytherin who hated them and would be happy to get them in trouble the first chance he got . . . Hermione gulped, standing up. If this year was anything like their last years had been- and with Harry it was surely impossible for it not to be- they would have to be a lot more careful.

"Where are you going?" called Ron, scrambling to his feet.

"Homework," replied Hermione vaguely. "And then I'll be going to the library."

"Oh," said Ron, sounding disappointed. "More Spew stuff?"

Hermione nodded, not bothering to correct his pronunciation. She was just glad to give him a reason not to follow her.

"We were thinking of going to see Hagrid," said Harry, looking equally let down. "Maybe tomorrow," said Hermione, trying to sound cheerful. "I've got to go do an essay. Flitwick's," she added furiously.

As Hermione hurried off, Ron exchanged a confused glance with Harry.

"That was quick," he said, glancing after her retreating back. He frowned suddenly. "Hey- we don't have an essay due for Flitwick." Ron looked suddenly apprehensive. "Do we?" he asked Harry uncertainly.

Harry shrugged. Hermione had been acting more than a little weird that morning.

"Maybe it's just a girl thing," exclaimed Ron hopefully.

"In that case, we'll never know what's going on," said Harry grimly.

Ron just sighed. "Girls," he sighed, picking up a stone and hurling it into the lake. "Why can't they just make sense?"

When Hermione left for the library that afternoon her bag was crammed with what she felt necessary materials. They included everything from quills and parchment, to her extensive notes on every subject and at least five of her spell books. She was also fifteen minutes early, which gave her time to comb the rows of books for other available resources Malfoy could use.

In the end, she had found a rather old, dusty looking book entitled Potions For The Heart, a volume that appeared to be at least a hundred years old. Another interesting title that jumped out at her was Pixie Species and Their History. If Malfoy couldn't actually come to Care of Magical Creatures, he could at least study up on pixies. For a moment Hermione was tempted to check out the book herself, finding the pixies they had studied in class fascinating. Malfoy needed it more, though, she decided reluctantly, adding it to her ever-growing stack of materials.

Eventually Hermione sat down at her table in a secluded area of the library in the back. According to the large clock on the wall, it was 4:03 and time for their study session to begin. Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, wondering where Malfoy was. She had seen him sitting in an armchair in Gryffindor, writing in what she was pretty sure she recognized as his diary. Hermione had almost gone over to him to remind him of their meeting, but that would have looked suspicious to anyone watching.

Hermione impatiently craned her neck, peeing at the library door. It was 4:05 and Malfoy still wasn't there. Had he decided not to come, she wondered, almost hopefully. A moment later though, his familiar now-brunette head appeared in the entry. Hermione waved a hand, motioning him over. He didn't look at all pleased to see her and took his time in crossing the room. The only thing he carried, see was astonished to see, was a quill.

"You're late," said Hermione crossly, pointing at his seat.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Look, Granger, let's just get this over with. I don't want to spend anymore time with you than absolutely necessary."

Hermione gritted her teeth, frustrated. He had been there less than two minutes and already he was annoying her! "It's not exactly a treat for me, either," she snapped back angrily. "The earlier you get here the quicker we can be done."

"And the sooner you stop your jabbering the sooner I can get back to my busy, busy life," responded Malfoy in a bored tone, glancing at his fingernails.

"How busy can a first year's life be?" asked Hermione sweetly. "Especially one's who doesn't even go to his classes . . ."

Malfoy glared at her venomously. "When I'm back in my body," he hissed, leaning forward. "You are going to regret-"

"And how exactly do you plan on breaking the curse, Malfoy?" she asked. "Considering you don't even know what it is and you're too scared to ask a teacher for help . . ."

Malfoy didn't say anything, but his eyes were flashing angrily. "I'll figure it out my own way, mudblood." Hermione glared at him, wondering what had compelled her to help him in the first place. He was such a conceited, horrible jerk!

"Let's just start," she said, struggling to keep her temper in check. While the urge to slap him like she had in their third year was strong, Hermione didn't think that would be a particularly good way to start of their study session.

She quickly picked up the book on pixies. "We're studying pixies in Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione said quickly, passing him the book.

"I know," said Malfoy bitterly. "Class finally starts getting interesting just as

I . . ." He didn't bother finishing his sentence.

"What do you mean just started getting interesting?" demanded Hermione indignantly. "Hagrid always brings, er, fascinating creatures."

"Dangerous beasts are the words you're looking for," said Malfoy sarcastically. "Honestly, Granger, it's touching that you care so deeply for the great oaf, but it's getting old."

"Shut up," said Hermione roughly, continuing before he could retort. Malfoy's glare intensified. "We have to write an essay on pixies for our next class, so you'll probably want to read that book."

Malfoy looked more than a little surprised. "You want me to do the homework?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," said Hermione without hesitation. "I think it's only fair. I'll grade you, I guess, according to what I think the teachers would give you." There was more than a hint on uncertainness in her voice at the end.

After a moment's shocked silence, Malfoy spoke. "You're crazy, Granger," he announced, standing up swiftly. "I'm leaving."

"Why?" asked Hermione, startled.

Malfoy turned around in irritation. "I am not doing homework for you! You're not a professor!" he added, sounding as if the very idea were preposterous.

"Why shouldn't you?" argued Hermione. "That's what all the other sixth years do. If you want me to teach you the material, you need to do the assignments, too!"

"All I wanted you to do was to tell me what you were doing in class," said Malfoy heatedly. "I never said I wanted-"

"Fine. Have it your way." Hermione gathered her books together, yanking the pixie book out of his grasp. "We're doing Love Potions, transfiguration of other classmates, pixies, Popping Charms, and venomous tentaculas. They match your personality," she added spitefully. Hermione was pleased to see that Malfoy looked more than a little overwhelmed at all this information. She stared at him fiercely, a silent struggle raging between them.

Finally, Malfoy gave a quiet, defeated sigh. "You win, Grange," he said, with none of his usual bravado. "I'll write the stupid essays."

Hermione smiled, sitting back down. A pleasant feeling of accomplishment enveloped her as she realized she had won the first of what would surely be many battles.

She handed him back the pixie book, eager to continue. "I have my Transfiguration notes here if you want to copy them. So far we haven't started transfiguring each other in class. Professor McGonagall said it would take a while before we'd be ready."

She described what they were doing in their various other classes and gave him the other books she'd selected. Malfoy accepted each one silently, studying it with an indifferent expression before setting it down on the table. When Hermione had finished she reluctantly handed over her notes. She bit her lip as he sifted through them. Her notes had been carefully written exactly the way the professors had dictated them- she would hate it if Malfoy messed them up somehow.

Eventually he put them down and reached for his wand. For a split second Hermione was afraid he was about to hex her- as he would have done in normal circumstances. Instead, he pointed his wand at his notes and murmured a spell under his breath. Instantly, a set of identical notes appeared next to hers.

"What?" snapped Malfoy, scooping up his pile. He frowned at her surprised expression. "Just because I'm back in first year doesn't mean I forgot everything else!"

Hermione stared. "I didn't say anything," she protested.

Malfoy glared sullenly. "You didn't need to." Hermione wanted to contradict him, but inside she knew that he was right. It did somehow seem strange watching that semi-complicated spell coming from a person who visually appeared to be a first year.

"So is that it?" asked Malfoy cautiously.

Hermione bit her lip. The idea of simply leaving him there was quite appealing- she certainly wouldn't have to put up with anymore insults. That didn't necessarily mean he would learn anything, though.

"You tell me," said Hermione at last. "Do you want me to show you any spells?"

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes. Eventually he gave a small nod. "Yes. Please," he added as an afterthought, not sounding entirely like he meant it.

Hermione rummaged in her bag, wondering if she had put any balloons in there from their last Charms class. They had been popping them vigorously throughout the period, although, she recalled, grinning inwardly, Harry and Ron had been more prone to sticking their wands in them by accident.

Smiling, Hermione drew out a blue balloon, immediately beginning to stretch it. She was pleased to see that Malfoy looked mildly interested- and was trying desperately not to show it.

"Do you want to blow it up?" she asked him, holding it out.

Malfoy looked first at the balloon and then at her suspiciously. "Have you . . .?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I haven't touched it!" Obnoxious prat, she thought furiously. Annoying, immature- Her silent tirade was cut short by the sound of the balloon being blown up.

Malfoy, his face slightly pink from the effort, tied the end into a knot and handed it gingerly to Hermione. It was about medium-sized, and, she found herself a bit reluctant to admit, seemed perfectly ok for the spell. It had taken Ron ages to stretch his out and then it blew up all long and lumpy. Harry had gone through three before he found a balloon that didn't pop when he was blowing it up.

Hermione grasped her wand and aimed it. "Pataca." There was a small popping noise and the balloon deflated, a small round puncture in its side.

Malfoy nodded grudgingly, looking, Hermione was gratified to see, more than a little impressed. "Do you have another one?" he asked sarcastically, reverting instantly to his normal loathsome self.

Hermione gritted her teeth. "No, I don't, but I do know how to fix this one. Or maybe you managed to forget the repairing spell in your little year-to-year switch." Malfoy glared at her, crossing his arms in the manner that Hermione suspected a two year old might.

"Reparo." The balloon instantly inflated to its former size, the hole magically resealing itself. She let if float in the air, giving it a small push in Malfoy's direction. He caught it, letting it rest gently on the table.

"Ready?" she asked coldly.

His eyes glinted with barely concealed contempt. "What do you think, Granger?"

She chose not to answer him. "Go."

"Pataca!" A tiny hole the size of pinprick must have appeared somewhere in the balloon because they could hear a small hissing noise of air escaping.

"That wasn't quite it, Malfoy," Hermione said sardonically, restoring the balloon with a flick of her wand. "Would you like to try again?"

Malfoy scowled at the balloon as if it was its fault. "Pataca." With a small bang, the balloon top half crumpled in on itself, sagging into a small blue pile on the table. Hermione didn't say anything.

Four tries later Malfoy had succeeded in making small holes appear in the balloon. It didn't deflate instantly like Hermione's had but his attempts at least made them lose air.

"That was better," said Hermione at last, glancing around nervously for any sign of Madame Pince. Malfoy's last try had ended with a loud bang. It would have required lengthy explanations if anyone heard them and came to investigate.

Malfoy glared at her. "It's because you're here," he spit out, as if blaming her for his mistakes.

"I don't see why you're mad at me," said Hermione coolly.

Malfoy leaned back in his chair defiantly, still sending glares of hate her way. "You would be mad, too, if everyone thought you were a silly first year!"

Hermione felt her anger ebb away. "Do you ever talk to any of the oth- any of the first years?" she asked sympathetically.

"No."

"Why not? It would be easier if you had a friend."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow, and Hermione had the impression that he was almost amused. "Granger, you must be forgetting that I'm not actually a Gryffindor," he said contemptuously.

"Yes, because heaven forbid you were friends with anyone other than a Slytherin!" snapped Hermione. She counted to ten slowly in her head, wondering how he managed irk her so.

"If you're not going to talk to anyone, what are you going to do?" Hermione asked. "What did you do in Slytherin:? Besides, make fun of us," she added sarcastically.

Malfoy shifted, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "I played Quidditch." He looked down at the table with- was it embarrassment, Hermione wondered. She felt a well of pity rise in her. It was obvious Malfoy dearly missed Quidditch and was trying not to show it.

Hermione bit her lip, a very unlikely idea coming to mind. "Why don't you try out for the Gryffindor team?" she asked tentatively. "They're holding try-outs for Beater today."

"Chaser," Malfoy corrected automatically, and then turned pink. Hermione tried not to smile; he had seen the posters.

"Well?" she said encouragingly.

Malfoy stared at her in disbelief. "You think I would help Gryffindor win the Quidditch Cup? Are you bloody mad, Granger?"

Hermione glared at him, hurt. "I was only trying to-"

"Besides, they don't let first years onto the house teams," said Malfoy bitterly. "Except for Saint Potter, of course."

"We could talk to Professor McGonagall," suggested Hermione half-heartedly.

"Forget it, Granger." Malfoy's voice was hard, signifying the end of the discussion. "Even if I could I wouldn't play for Gryffindor. They're just mudblood lovers anyway . . ." Malfoy stared her in the eye, daring her to retaliate.

Hermione eyed him coldly for a moment before stepping quickly to her feet.

"All I've tried to do is help, Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth, swiping her pile of books into her bag. "I'll see you again on Tuesday evening at-" she consulted her schedule briefly before looking up. "Seven." Giving him no time to dispute, Hermione swept out of the library, not looking back.

"Harry, we're looking for speed, agility, reflexes, and teamwork," stated Angelina that evening at Quidditch tryouts. Harry nodded, not paying attention. Angelina had been repeating the list over and over, almost like a mantra. Harry was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on what was happening.

The rest of the team had arrived promptly at 3:45 and in the next fifteen minutes about eight more people had shown up to tryout. None of the candidates impressed Harry very much. There were two gangly seventh years; the girl looked decidedly grumpy at being there. A few hopeful third and fourth years were there and a fifth year that Harry recognized as one of Ginny's mates.

"Well, shall we get started?" asked Harry, trying to sound confident.

There was a chorus of nervous variations of agreement.

Harry opened his mouth to continue, but Angelina cut him off.

"We're going to start today by warming up a little so Harry and I can see how you fly. Don't worry," she added, noting their anxious faces. "Just fly like you would normally do. We're not looking for anything fancy."

"Just a few laps around the field," supplemented Harry, wishing he sounded as secure as Angelina did. There was a moment's hesitation while the would-be-Chasers eyed each other, sizing up their opponents.

Angelina clapped her hands impatiently and yelled for them to get a move on. Immediately the air was buzzing with the sounds of brooms racing each other around the field. No matter what Angelina had said, it was clear that the students were trying to outdo each other.

Harry saw the grumpy seventh year's friend do a flip in the air (nearly falling off his broom in the process) and two third years were having a race. The only person who did not seem to want to outdo the others was Ginny's friend, a small girl with dark brown hair.

"Who do you like?" whispered Angelina in his ear.

Harry paused before answering, still examining the contestants. "Ginny's friend isn't bad-"

"Her name's Emily," interrupted Ginny from behind them. She blushed as both Harry and Angelina turned to stare at her.

"As I was saying," continued Harry, slightly put out that the rest of the team was listening to their discussion. "She's a good flier."

"But a bit slow," said Angelina, frowning. "We need someone who's fast." She pointed to the seventh year; he appeared to be attempting cartwheels. "What about him? He's fast."

"Him?" said Harry in dismay. He didn't think much of the seventh year's efforts to show off. In fact, Harry thought that two overenthusiastic third years were flying better than he was.

"His name's Clark Finch. I went out with him last year." Harry felt an odd feeling rise in his stomach.

"Well, I still like Emily better."

Angelina tossed her head, looking distinctly ruffled. "We can talk about this later. All right, everyone, back on the ground!" called Angelina, clapping her hands impatiently. "We're going to do some drills!" The students murmured excitedly to themselves as they landed on the ground. Harry stared at their eager expressions, and his stomach churned rather uncomfortably. He was quite relieved when Angelina began telling them what to do.

"You're going to play four on four for a few minutes. Practice throwing the Quaffle to your teammates and trying to catch it. Remember to keep it away from the other team." Angelina began counting off, dividing the group of candidates.

Harry watched admiringly as she had them back in the air in less than two minutes. She blew her whistle and threw the red Quaffle in the air. Immediately the seventh year streaked towards it, Ginny's friend right on his tail.

Soon the Quidditch pitch was filled with enthusiastic voices shouting to each other.

"Pass it over here!"

"I'm open!"

The seventh year girl was particularly good at flying but didn't seem interested in holding the Quaffle at all. Whenever she had it in her hands she quickly passed it to someone else.

A third year with blonde hair was good at dodging people on her broom, but she was shouting advice out to her teammates constantly.

Harry was almost relieved when Angelina called everyone back to the ground and informed them that they would be trying to get the Quaffle past Ron. Whoever could score the most would probably clinch it considering that so far no one was particularly standing out, Harry decided.

Angelina blew her whistle and ten brooms rose in the air. Jack and Andrew would be aiming the Bludgers at people, to see how they reacted under pressure and what their reflex skills were. Harry threw the Quaffle into the air, and immediately three people swarmed down to grab it.

Harry watched with a sinking heart as the Quaffle was passed from one person to another without actually getting any closer to goalposts. Ron was literally sitting in a hoop holding his broom, sending amused glances at Harry. All of the candidates were bickering and trying to get the Quaffle for themselves. Didn't they realize that they had to work as a team, wondered Harry, frustrated. Scoring the Quaffle was only one of the factors that they had to consider in choosing a new Chaser.

The candidates were also abominably bad at dodging the Bludgers. The female seventh year landed on the ground after getting hit by a Bludger in the arm and refused to get back in the air despite her friend's protests. If the Slytherins were half as bad at evading as the Gryffindors were, (and Harry knew they weren't) Jack and Andrew wouldn't have anything to worry about.

"This is terrible," said Angelina, disgusted. She jogged to the centre of the pitch, shouting at the students. "Oy! Everyone on the ground!" Harry beckoned Ginny and Katie over, an idea forming in his mind.

"Tell Angelina that I'd like you guys to show them some of your routines. Maybe they'll see how Chasers should really behave."

Ginny grinned devilishly, exchanging a sly look with Katie. "Sure, Harry. I haven't exactly practiced any routines yet . . . but I think I can come up with something.

"It'd be our pleasure. They need all the help they can get," added Katie, shouldering her broom.

Harry watched them walk over to Angelina and whisper in her ear. Angelina looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. She leapt onto her broomstick closely followed by Ginny and Katie.

"Watch us, guys. We're going to show you some of the routines we use in games," Angelina called, tossing the Quaffle from one hand to the other. Excited murmurs swept through the small group of candidates on the ground.

Harry mounted his Firebolt, glancing at the goalposts. Ron was still slouched on the right one, his broom dangling from his fingertips. In fact, it looked like he was asleep, realized Harry, grinning inwardly as Ron gave a small snore.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to picture how Mrs Weasley would wake her sons.

"Ronald Weasley!"

Ron started, jerking awake and nearly falling out of the goalpost. "Wha- how?" He gazed around blearily for Mrs Weasley before spotting Harry.

"Harry!" he cried, outraged. "Do you want to kill me?" He gasped for breath, swinging clumsily onto his broom.

Harry watched, amused, before turning back to look at the girls. Katie held the Quaffle and was zooming towards Ron, a determined expression on her face. Ron saw where Harry was looking and yelped, shooting forward with a burst of speed.

It seemed as if Katie were about to put the Quaffle through the left hoop when she dropped it to Ginny, hovering beneath her. The youngest Weasley was off like a shot and had scored on the right hoop in less than three seconds. She and Katie whooped and gave each other high fives while Ron looked on, dumbfounded.

"What's the matter, Keeper? The girls a bit too fast for you?" called Angelina, grinning despite the fact that Ron had just let the Quaffle past. "Better hope the Slytherins aren't quite so coordinated."

"Yeah, and don't fall asleep while you're at," murmured Ginny as she flew past her brother. Ron glared at her, his face red.

"You could've woken me," he said grumpily to Harry as the Chasers regrouped down by the awed students.

Harry grinned. "I did, mate. I yelled your name as loud as I could-"

"I thought Mum had come to Hogwarts," said Ron, shuddering. "You scared the living daylights out of me."

Loud cheers erupted from the students on the ground, startling both Harry and Ron. Angelina couldn't resist laughing as she passed them, having just scored again.

"You're not supposed to distract your Keeper, Captain," she shouted to Harry, grinning. "That's a sure way to lose the game."

Harry and Ron just glowered.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team was grouped around a table in the common room later that evening after tryouts, conferring over their choices for Chaser.

"I hate to say it, but there was no one out there up to Alicia's standards," said Angelina sorrowfully, shaking her head in disappointment.

"Or yours," Katie pointed out, grinning.

Angelina blushed. "Right. Anyway, none of them were fabulous. The best flyers I saw were Ginny's friend and Clark."

"Kelly Avin and Eric Field seemed to know what they were doing," argued Harry, irritated that Angelina wouldn't stop talking about Clark.

"Yeah, but they're only in third year. We want someone more experienced."

Harry could barely believe his ears, and he knew his whole face was turning red. "What about me? I got on the team in first year! You were in third year when I joined!"

Angelina had the decency to look abashed. "You're right. It's just- I really liked Clark. I think he'd make a great Chaser."
"Yeah, if he'd stop showing off," Katie mumbled under her breath.

"Angelina, what's your fixation on Clark?" Harry demanded, exasperated. "I know he was your old boyfriend-"

"I thought you were going out with Fred," interrupted Ron in confusion.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "That was after I broke up with Clark and it was only for two weeks so don't get any ideas, Ron."

"I wasn't-"

"The point is, Field dropped the Quaffle and Avin shrieked every time a Bludger came near her."

"He dropped it once, and the Bludger almost hit her in the head!" said Harry angrily.

"They weren't that bad, Angelina," said Katie gently, gazing at her friend seriously. "And Clark . . ." She went silent, and it seemed she and Angelina were communicating silently as Katie's eyes bored into the other girl's. Finally Angelina sighed, rubbing her temples.

She nodded reluctantly, her face still covered by her hands. "Yeah, they were good, I guess. But they definitely had room for improvement," she added quickly, as if trying to sound like she was still in charge.

"So who are we picking?" ventured Ginny uncertainly. There was a grim silence for a few moments as they teammates looked at each other. "It sounds like they all have good qualities to me."

"We need Hermione for this sort of thing," grumbled Ron, glancing around the common room. "She could make charts for us listing their what's-its- pros and cons. Where is she anyway?" No one answered, and he didn't bother asking again.

"Well, we have to choose someone," said Angelina irritably. "Anyway we look at it, we're still down by one Chaser. That group was lousy but they were the only ones that tried out. We need to pick."

"Why?"

Simultaneously everyone turned to stare at the speaker. Ron turned red but gazed back determinedly.

"What?" Angelina's voice was dangerous, a glint in her eye.

"I- it's just." Ron was obviously struggling to find the words he was looking for. "Why do we need a Chaser? It's not in the rules that we have to have one, is it? You played without Harry once when he was in the Hospital Wing. Katie's a great Chaser, and Ginny's one heck of a fast learner. If no one was good at the tryouts . . ." He left his last sentence dangling, watching the others for their reactions.

Harry stared at Ron, not really seeing him. It seemed impossible. Play without a Chaser? They were supposed to have three Chasers, not two! They would lose for sure! It was impossible . . . or was it? Harry smiled without realizing it. Ron's plan was crazy, but it actually made sense! Why did they need three Chasers, he found himself wondering. Obviously it was more helpful overall when they were trying to score points, but if there was no one good for the job he didn't see anything wrong with just having two.

It seemed as if the same thoughts were crossing the minds of everyone else on the Gryffindor team.

Katie chuckled quietly, an amused expression on her face. "Can you imagine what the other teams would think? Especially Slytherin?"

"They're missing a Seeker," said Ron defensively.

"You know, it's actually not that bad an idea," said Ginny thoughtfully, glancing at her brother admiringly. "You'd never know he had it in him, would you? I mean, with Keeper abilities like that." She giggled, ducking as Ron swiped at her shoulder.

"I don't know," said Angelina, looking unconvinced. "It sounds risky to me. I know the students we saw today weren't great but at least they were something. What do you think, Harry?"

"Maybe we should give it a go," he said slowly, testing the words in the air. He paused before continuing, studying the waiting faces before him. "It would mean we wouldn't have to train a new player."

"Some of them know how to play already," argued Angelina, still looking troubled. Katie snorted audibly, and Harry was almost positive he heard her murmur "Clark." Judging by Angelina's glare, she had heard it, too.

"It's up to you, Harry," said Angelina at last after silently admonishing Katie. "You- you're the captain now." It sounded like the words were painful to say, but she gave him a brief, weak smile at the end of it.

Harry heard a sharp intake of breath; it was his own. He was finally calling the shots. It was his first really important decision as Quidditch Captain. Whatever he decided now could affect how well the team did throughout the year.

"Let's try it," he heard himself say confidently. "We can practice for a few weeks with only two Chasers. If Katie and Ginny think they need another person we can choose someone. Do you think you two can manage?"

He waited in anxious anticipation as the team silently formed their own opinions.

Katie smiled, an almost diabolical look coming into her eye. "Oh, we can manage. The other teams won't know what hit them."

"It'll be like reverse psychology," said Ginny, smirking in obvious pleasure.

Ron beamed as Andrew and Jack, who had been quiet so far, both said they thought it was a good idea. Harry turned to Angelina. What she thought was most important as she was co-captain and would be helping him run the team.

She bit her lip and then gave an almost inaudible sigh. "It'll have to work, I guess." A small smile crossed Angelina's face. "It makes me wish I were one of the two Chasers left. You guys will win the Quidditch Cup for sure."

"We will," corrected Harry, smiling at her. He didn't know why but there was definitely an odd feeling in his stomach. "You're part of the team, too."

"Yeah," chimed in Katie, swinging an arm over her friend's shoulders. "You're our honorary Chaser! When people ask how we could be so crazy we'll just tell them that you're their playing for us in spirit . . . er, by proxy, somehow."

"Wouldn't that require another person?" said Ron out of the corner of his mouth, raising an eyebrow at Harry.

Harry grinned, shaking his head.

Katie didn't look at all abashed. "When's our next practice, Harry?"

"Tomorrow," he said quickly, looking at Angelina for confirmation.

She nodded. "Yeah. You and Ginny have to start training extra hard." She brightened. "I can pretend to be an enemy Chaser if you want, and take the Quaffle."

"If you can even get it," teased Ginny. She land Katie laughed as Angelina muttered something about 'amateurs' and 'insolence' under her breath.

In the next few minutes the Quidditch team began to disband, going off to other parts of the common room. Harry and Ron were left together at the table to do their week's accumulation of homework.

"Where's the book on human transfiguration McGonagall told us about?" asked Ron, not looking up from his parchment as he wrote feverishly on it. "Didn't you borrow it from the library?"

"Hermione borrowed it," said Harry vaguely, glaring down at his Potions essay. "She was just lending it to me."

"Well, where is she, I need to use it?" Ron looked up wildly, as if expecting her to appear in midair. "She's been gone all afternoon."

"So have we," Harry reminded him. "Maybe Hermione's in the library or in the kitchens working on Spew."

"What?" cried Ron, trying to look aghast and failing miserably. "Hermione not doing homework on a Saturday night? What is she thinking?"

"She's thinking you'd better have a good excuse for calling S. P. E. W. 'spew' again," Harry heard a brisk voice from behind him say. "After all, she's told you enough time what its proper pronunciation is."

Ron swallowed whatever words he had been about to say, turning red. "Hermione, where have you been?" he asked indignantly as Hermione sat down beside them at the table.

She sighed and dropped her bag unceremoniously to the floor. "In the library," she said evasively.

"Doing what?" Ron asked sarcastically.

There was a slight pause before she answered, and Harry was almost sure she blushed.

"Homework."

"Wow, something new and exciting, Hermione," said Ron seriously, with no trace of a joke in his voice. He didn't seem to notice Hermione's strange behavior. "Homework. Who would've thought?"

"Yes, who indeed," said Hermione, decidedly miffed. She opened her mouth to say more but Ron cut her off.

"Can I borrow the book on human transfiguration, please?"

Hermione sighed, grinning ruefully as he pouted at her. "I don't see why I should, but I will." As she reached down to open her bag something blue fell out along with a cascade of parchment and books. Hermione gave an exclamation of surprise and irritation, moving hurriedly to sweep everything bag into her bag.

"What's this?" asked Harry, bending down quickly to snatch up the blue thing.

"Nothing!" said Hermione instantly. Her eyes wide, she grabbed it back, stuffing it into her bag.

"Was that a balloon?" asked Ron, peering over interestedly. "Where's it from?"

"It's from Charms class a few days ago," snapped Hermione, sounding sharper than she'd meant. She took a deep breath. "I must have forgotten about it."

Ron snorted, going back to his work. Harry picked up Hermione's notes, handing them to her as he automatically acknowledged her thanks.

Hermione was keeping something from him and Ron, there was no doubt about it. She looked decidedly nervous as she got out the book for Ron and began doing her homework. For one thing, she looked tired and worn out, as if she'd just been through something tiring and annoying. Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and then at Ron. The redhead didn't seem to have noticed anything strange was going on.

I'll ask her about it later, decided Harry, trying to concentrate on his Potions. Hermione never kept secrets from them, not any that he knew of at least. Whatever was going on, she would tell them about it later.