Only For You

Only For You

by DPx

Chapter Five - Omens

Any repetition of my being late for breakfast the previous day was out of the question as I was woken by the sun rising at about 5.45 the next morning. As much as I tried I couldn't get back to sleep, and at around seven I stopped trying and got out of bed to get washed and changed. When I was getting changed, Harry poked his head through the hangings of his bed, his hair even more unruly, looking slightly startled but smiling. 'Hi Miah. Er, what time is it?'

'A bit after seven I think.'

'Ah, okay,' he said sleepily, slipping through the curtains around his bed, changing into his school robes. 'Want to go down to breakfast?'

'Have they started it yet?'

'They will soon I think. And we can wait, right?'

'Yeah, of course.' We found that we were the only two people in the Great Hall, with the exception of two Hufflepuffs and Filch, who was watching them closely, just in case they dropped jam on the floor.

We sat down opposite each other and the plates in front of us filled with toast, marmalade, butter and jam. We piled up our plates and for a few seconds didn't talk, we just ate. Harry opened his mouth to talk but just as he began to speak, Professor McGonagall swept into the Hall, striding up towards the staff table, pausing only to say 'Gryffindor Quidditch trials this evening, Mister Potter. Miss Johnson wishes all her players to be there. And Mister Weiss, if you'd care to turn out, that'd be excellent. We rather need a keeper, from what Miss Johnson tells me.'

'Thanks, Professor,' said Harry, as McGonagall continued up towards the staff table. 'You are going to try out, right?'

'Yeah, I think so. I've not flown for so long though, I'm going to be rusty.'

'You'll be fine. If they asked you to try out for Germany you can probably fly rings round most people with your eyes closed.'

'I used to hate flying.'

'Really?'

'Well, it was something my dad bullied me into. When I was about five, I was happy enough keeping my feet on the ground, but he wanted me to be a Quidditch player just like he was. And I didn't want to.'

'So how come you play now?'

'Well... I started enjoying flying when he wasn't around. And considering he was a professional, that was nearly all the time. And when he... went... I just found some motivation to play Quidditch. To make him proud of me if he's still watching, if that makes any sense.'

'I think so,' Harry said, slowly, thoughtfully.

'I never saw him play, so I never knew how good I had to be, what I had to be. It set me free in a way. If I'd known how good he was when I'd started flying, I probably wouldn't have bothered.'

'He never taught you anything?'

'No. I suppose I was just lucky to inherit some of his talent.'

'My dad was good too,' Harry said, just a touch of sadness in his voice. 'He played Seeker as well.'

'I know,' I said supportively, reaching over, laying my hand on top of his and squeezing softly, reassuringly.

'How do you know?' he asked.

'Well, his name's on a trophy on one of the floors somewhere. I got lost yesterday, I walked past a cabinet with a load of prizes in it.'

'Yeah, I found that in my first year. I never knew before that.'

'You never knew about your dad either?'

'Well, no. My aunt and uncle pretended my parents never existed.'

'Oh, Harry, I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. I'm used to it.'

'If you're sure...'

'It's fine.' It was only then that I noticed his hand had turned so his palm was against mine, his fingers gripping my hand tight. I looked down, his eyes following mine. I don't think he'd realised what he'd been doing and he quickly looked up, embarrassed. I gave him a supportive grin, and he grinned back briefly, before releasing his grip on my hand as the door to the Hall opened.

Ron and Hermione came in, along with a few more Gryffindors and seemingly half of Ravenclaw house, including Cho Chang, who walked by, brushing up against Harry on the way past, smiling an apology as she went to sit down at her table.

'Hope we didn't interrupt anything,' said Ron, swinging himself into the seat beside Harry, Hermione sitting down beside me.

'Er, no, I was just showing Harry my scar.'

'Scar?'

'Oh yeah, I got it playing Quidditch.'

'Can I see?' asked Ron.

'Er, no, you can barely see it any more.'

'Oh, right,' said Ron, looking slightly confused.

Both Harry and I had turned a deep shade of red, but we were spared any more questions by the rest of the school coming into the hall for breakfast.

'Hi, Harry,' said Neville Longbottom, sitting down on the other side of Harry to Ron, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Parvati Patil all sitting down nearby.

'Hey, Neville,' Harry replied.

'Did you finish that essay for Snape... Professor Snape, last night?'

'Just about. I got some help with it from Miah, though.'

'Do you think you could... maybe help me a bit?' asked Neville, looking at me tentatively. 'I really didn't get anything he was going on about.'

'Yeah, ok,' I replied. 'Though to be honest I got taught it last term, I wasn't really following what Snape was saying either.'

'Thanks,' said Neville earnestly, turning as a flock of owls descended into the Great Hall.

'Post's up, then,' Fred Weasley said cheerily, catching a letter a small, sleek owl dropped in front of him.

I looked round the hall, it seemed that most of the students had a letter of one kind or another, Draco Malfoy's eagle owl bringing him a huge packet of sweets and cakes from Malfoy Manor.

'Aw look,' I said, nudging Ron and pointing, 'Malfoy's mummy's sent him sweeties. How cute.'

I think Malfoy noticed my look of derision and scowled at me across the hall, mouthing 'mudblood scum' at me. I gave him a cheeky little smile before returning to Harry, Ron and Hermione who were all looking at a letter that Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl had brought him.

It was just as I was about to ask them what it was about that I felt a sharp pain at my left elbow. I turned to find our family owl, Erik, nipping irritably at my arm, trying to attract my attention. He dropped the letter onto the table, looking at me haughtily. I picked the letter up tentatively, turning it over to find just my name written on the front in my mother's handwriting. My full name, of course. Might be a long time before the 'expulsion' wound heals, I thought, opening the envelope and tugging a single piece of writing paper out.

Jeremiah,

I simply cannot believe that you would run away from home in such a fashion. I hope that you will come to your senses and return soon. I cannot over-emphasise how important this is.

I appreciate how ashamed you must be, having being expelled, but you must not hide from your responsibilities, you must own up to your mistakes.

Please reply immediately and let me know when you will be returning. I've found a most suitable job for you at the local Post Office. I know it might not be what you had in mind, but it's clear to me that to send you back to school would be a mistake, as I obviously cannot trust you to stay there.

Love,

Your Mother.

I stared at the letter for a while, reading it again, then once more, before emphatically tearing it into strips, saving one strip for the reply I intended to send her. I pulled a quill out of my robes, scribbling a brief, unnecessarily vitriolic note onto the scrap of parchment before giving it back to Erik, who dipped his beak briefly into a water jug, and flew off, spraying me with water.

'Who was that from?' Hermione asked, leaning over a bit.

'My mother,' I said quietly. 'She wanted me to go home.'

'You're not going, are you?' Ron said.

'No. I don't think I could take it,' I replied, forcing a smile.

'But if she wants you to go...' Hermione said, her voice trailing off at the look that had to have crossed my face. 'Or maybe not,' she corrected, taking a sip of her drink, no longer meeting my gaze.

'Anyway,' I said, 'what was in that letter you were looking at?'

'Oh, that was from Hagrid,' said Harry. 'He was asking us if we wanted to go down for tea after the Quidditch trials. You wanna come?'

'Yeah, ok, why not?'

'Just don't eat any of his rock cakes,' Hermione said.

'Not if you want all of your own teeth left afterwards, anyway,' Ron added.

'That bad, huh?'

'Worse,' Ron grunted through a mouthful of toast. 'I mean, he's a really nice bloke, if a bit barmy at times, but he can't cook.'

'Transfiguration first today,' said Harry, looking down at his timetable.

'Then Defence Against the Dark Arts, with that Konchesky woman,' Hermione remarked, taking the timetable from him.

'Again?' I moaned, not exactly glad at the prospects of locking horns with Konchesky for the second day running.

'How did you deal with her for four years?' Harry asked.

'Yeah, I've only had one lesson and that's quite enough, thanks,' said George Weasley.

'Makes a good impression, doesn't she?' I said.

'Something like that,' grinned Harry.

'Are you finished?' asked Hermione, looking reprovingly at Ron, who was buttering another slice of toast.

'What?' he asked defensively.

'Well, we've got... seven minutes to get to Transfiguration,' Hermione said, looking at her watch.

'Ah. Right. McGonagall. Yes.' Ron dropped the toast and jumped to his feet. We followed him back up to Gryffindor Tower, picking up our bags, making it to the Transfiguration classroom with about a minute to spare, rather out of breath.

Professor McGonagall wasn't at her desk, though, there was just a tabby cat sitting on the desk. No one else seemed to think there was anything wrong with this, and I sat down at a desk in between Harry and Hermione.

I let out a gasp as suddenly, the tabby cat sprung off of the desk, seemingly growing, planting its hind legs on the ground, legs which lengthened and thickened. I looked up to find Professor McGonagall gazing levelly at me.

'Animagus. Nice.' I muttered, at what I thought was an inaudible volume.

'Why thank you, Mr. Weiss,' Professor McGonagall said, giving me a thin smile. 'Now, wands out please, everyone.'

We spent the lesson trying to turn meerkats into water basins, which, unsurprisingly, is exactly as difficult as it sounds. Hermione managed to get the closest to succeeding, although even her basin tried to stand up on its taps.

'I have deliberately set you a difficult task to begin with,' Professor McGonagall said at the end of the lesson, when we were packing up. 'This is to prepare you for the standard of task that you are likely to face in your Ordinary Wizarding Level examination. Other teachers may prefer to ease you into your studies this year gently. However, I believe that it is very important that you are aware what you are likely to be up against this summer.'

'I expect you to practice the incantation and wand movement used in this transfiguration for your homework. Unfortunately, due to a rather unfortunate incident a few years ago, Professor Dumbledore has asked me not to hand out meerkats for you to practice on, so that will have to wait until next time. Thank you.' McGonagall swept out of the classroom, leaving us sitting there, all exhausted, Neville in particular, whose meerkat had merely sprouted taps for ears, but had otherwise remained completely unchanged.

I dragged myself out of my seat, not without some considerable effort, slinging my bag over my shoulder, noticing that it seemed considerably heavier than when I came into the lesson. Transfiguration is hard work, especially when it's a difficult one.

Defence Against the Dark Arts didn't seem too bad, probably because I was too tired already to take any notice of any little jibes that Konchesky might have made in my direction. The only thing that penetrated in the slightest was that she'd set homework, which I made a mental note to get off Hermione after school in the evening.

The atmosphere in Divination really didn't help my tiredness either, the heaviness of the atmosphere and the drone of Professor Trelawney's voice lulling me to the point of sleep, and I'm sure, once or twice beyond, as I remember Harry poking me a few times to wake me up.

'You ok, Miah?'

'Yeah, just didn't sleep so well.'

'So being bored to death doesn't help?'

'Not exactly.'

Lavender Brown shot us both a death glare for talking over Trelawney, even if the old fraud in question was talking about the number of blackbirds in a single nest being very important in determining the length of your life!

Ron and Harry grinned at each other, Ron leaning over to whisper 'could you imagine the look on Hermione's face if she had to listen to this cobblers? "Ah, four birds, yes, you shall die young and in a painful way, with a Skrewt jammed up your arse,"' he said, smirking at Harry.

'I don't know how you can sit through that old bat babbling away for hours on end...' Harry's impression of Hermione was cut short by Professor Trelawney, who appeared behind them both before I could warn either.

'Mister Potter, dear, I don't suppose you could answer my question?'

'Er, sorry?'

'Birds, dear.'

'Oh, could you repeat it?'

'Well, maybe not then, dear. Mister Weasley?'

'Er, no, sorry.'

'Mister... Er, Weiss?'

'No, I didn't hear either.'

'Really, dears, this isn't very good.'

'I know, Professor,' said Parvati, practically hopping up and down on her armchair.

'Yes, Miss Patil?'

'If there are more than four birds in the nest, it's a bad omen, Professor.'

'Quite, dear. It can be an omen of terrible bad luck, possibly even of... Death.' I'm not sure what was louder, Parvati and Lavender's shocked gasps, or Ron and Harry's snorts of laughter. Safe enough to say though, Professor Trelawney looked a little put out at the derision she seemed to receive every time she went to scare Harry.

'Utter crap,' said Ron, as we descended the tower, in possession of a long and boring-sounding homework involving reading up on what various patterns of birds in flight meant. Another one for the Divination-make-it-up file, or so Harry and Ron seemed to think. We met up with Hermione in Gryffindor Tower before going down for lunch. It was odd, the closer I got to my Quidditch trial, the more nervous I got. Odd because I'd never really felt nervous when I was about to fly before. Apart from when I was flying in front of my father, and of course he wasn't around now.

'What ya thinking, mate?' Ron asked, looking me at inquisitively as I picked absent-mindedly at my food, barely even noticing what it was.

'Er, oh, just thinking about Quidditch.'

'Really? What team do you support?'

'Lizards.' My local team from Leeds.

'The Lizards?' giggled Ron. 'They're useless.'

'Oh yeah? Well, who's your team?'

'Chudley Cannons,' said Ron, proudly. I tried, unsuccessfully as it happened, to stifle a laugh and ended up nearly choking to death on a spear of asparagus.

'You ok?' Harry asked, laying his hand on my back. I could hardly think, the soft, caring touch of his hand on my back taking all my attention. Reluctantly I forced my mind back to the present, taking a sip of pumpkin juice to buy myself a little time.

'Yeah, I'm fine, it's just... I didn't think they let nursery teams play with the big boys any more,' I said, grinning evilly at Ron.

Ron flushed bright red, but forebore from arguing any more, studiously eating his macaroni cheese.

Lunch was over all too soon, and we were waiting outside the Herbology greenhouses. I really didn't like Herbology at Durmstrang and I was worried it wasn't going to be much better at Hogwarts. I'd never really cared much for plants, beyond the fact that I eat some of them, and most of the plants we took care of in Herbology, you certainly wouldn't want to eat, even if they'd let you.

Professor Sprout, a short witch who looked like she spent most of her waking moments (and some of the sleeping ones too) rolling in Hagrid's compost heap. The lesson was one of my less enjoyable ones at Hogwarts so far, as I managed to cut myself on a Razor-edged Giant Toadstool, all the while watching Neville Longbottom, who I'd taken to be a bit of a no-hoper, tend to his with ease. I was nursing my cut all the way through Charms, too, which caused me to shatter two more bowls while practicing the Floating Charm.

All of this did little to allay any unease I was feeling with regards to the Quidditch trial. Pretty much immediately Charms finished, I ran up to Gryffindor Tower and up the stairs to my dormitory, throwing my bag down onto the floor and sitting on my bed, my head in my hands. Davros squirmed out from under my duvet, running up my back and perching on my shoulder, nibbling gently at my earlobe.

'Hey Davy. I got my Quidditch trial in fifteen minutes. I'm worried. I mean, what happens if I suck? What happens if they all laugh at me? Cause it's important to me, you know that. It's what I've always wanted to do, ever since I saw my dad play in that World Cup final. Ever since I was old enough to know what all those trophies he had actually meant.' Davy squeaked softly, supportively almost. 'Yeah, I know, it's stupid. I mean, I've been playing since before he... you know... left. And I've played in front of a load of people, yeah. But this is a bit different. I mean, I care about them. I could have cared less what most of Durmstrang thought of me, you know? It just didn't matter, cause all that I cared about was how I felt about how I played.'

I jumped up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs of the tower, jumping up, almost causing Davy to fall of my shoulder. I set him down on the bed with a quick apology, and rummaged through my bag for something to wear that I didn't mind getting too dirty, settling on an old pair of jeans and my rather dilapidated and ripped Motorhead 'No Class' shirt. Ripped because it'd been with me to just about every gig I'd been to and worn it underneath my robes in every game I'd ever played in. My lucky shirt you might say.

The door opened, and Neville Longbottom walked in, putting his bag down by his bed. 'Hi Miah,' he said, 'hard Charms lesson, wasn't it?' I nodded, sucking regretfully on my still painful finger.

'Are you going to the Quidditch trial?' I nodded again, taking my robes off and changing. 'Well, good luck.'

'Thanks Neville,' I murmured, sitting on my bed, pulling my boots on, about the only parts of my Quidditch kit that I'd remembered to bring. 'Don't suppose you could give me a hand with the Herbology homework, could you?' I asked, 'I mean, that toadstool took a bit of a dislike to me,' I showed him my cut, 'and you seemed to be dealing with it ok.'

'Er, yeah, that'd be fine,' Neville said, blushing a little.

'Thanks,' I said, finishing up doing up my boots, standing up and picking up my Nimbus. Just as I was about to open the door, it was flung open by Ron and Harry, who looked more than a little surprised to see me.

'Oh, you're here. We looked for you everywhere - you just ran off after Charms.'

'Yeah, I didn't want to be late.'

'Oh, ok. Well, I'll see you out there, then,' said Harry, 'I'll just get changed.'

'It's ok, I'll wait,' I said, leaning on my broom. Harry changed quickly, and slinging his Firebolt over his shoulder, lead the way out to the Quidditch pitch, followed by me and Ron, who'd come out to watch. Harry and I were the first out there, and I watched Harry fly round the pitch a few times.

He really was amazing to watch, his control of his Firebolt was effortless. I declined his invitation to join him until some of the rest of the players got out to the pitch, two girls, the Weasley twins, and a dark-skinned guy with a Quaffle under his arm, lead by the girl that had reminded us about the trial at breakfast, Angelina.

'Ok,' she said when everyone had gathered round. 'As you know, we're looking for a new keeper. And we've got two possible candidates. Lee Jordan you probably know, and while I hesitate to have yet another troublemaker on the team,' at this Fred and George beamed proudly, 'apparently he's not bad. This is our other candidate,' she said, indicating me.

'Hi, I'm Miah,' I said to the two girls and Lee, smiling as much as I could manage.

'Right,' Angelina said, 'because we're looking for a keeper, I think we'll play four on four, no bludgers or anything, just try and score goals. And we can see who does best. Sound fair?' she asked, looking at Lee and I. Lee said 'sure,' and I gulped and managed a grin and a nod. 'Right, let's play,' Angelina finished, taking the Quaffle from Lee and kicked off into the air.

I followed, and the second I did, I think every single little reservation I'd had about playing during the day evaporated. I did a few lengths of the pitch, to get the feel of flying back, before taking my place in front of the goal posts at one end. Angelina, Fred and Harry were on my team, and I soon got back into the swing of playing, making a few good saves and managing to get through 15 minutes of fairly intense play without conceding a single goal.

Just playing again gave me an amazing buzz, something that not even the pain in my finger, which had been bugging me all afternoon could penetrate. This is what it's all about, I thought as I flicked a pass to Harry, who smartly rounded George Weasley and Lee Jordan to score. The feel of the wind in my hair and clothes, the rush of playing my favourite game. It's at times like these, I felt as if I was Born. To. Fly.

It was all over too soon as well - just as I was getting into my natural game, Angelina called us all into the middle. I've always played in quite an aggressive, attacking way, and I think they'd all picked up on that. 'Do you always play so far out?' Angelina asked me.

'Er, well, yeah, usually. I mean, they can't score from outside the shooting area anyway, so why not?'

'Well, it is a bit dangerous, isn't it?'

'I won't do it if you don't want me to. But trust me, it works.'

'Well... We'll talk about it. As far as the team goes, I think you got the place. Sorry Lee.'

'Yeah, well, it's ok, I was only trying out for fun anyway.' Angelina's arched eyebrow and cool look told me she didn't really think that playing Quidditch for Gryffindor was something to joke about.

'Yes, it's not FUN, Lee, it's deadly serious,' said George, trying very hard not to laugh.

'If you can't take your Quidditch seriously, young man, don't even bother turning up. We don't do anything for FUN down here,' added Fred.

'Boys...' muttered Angelina, not quite managing to supress a grin. 'Anyway, first practice is tomorrow after school.'

'Ooh, goody,' George muttered. 'Bet it rains.'

At some point during the practice Hermione had come down to join Ron watching, and Harry and I joined them up in the stands.

'Brilliant, mate, bloody brilliant,' Ron said, as Harry and I sat down.

'Er, thanks.'

'Seriously, we'll win it this season, no doubt. Slytherin haven't got anybody, no Flint, Derrick and Bole left too, so who've they got?'

'Malfoy,' said Hermione simply.

'Yeah, but Harry can deal with Malfoy easily, can't you, mate? He's only on the team cause he's got a rich daddy.'

'He's better than that, Ron,' said Hermione. 'He has been flying since he was about five.'

'Or so he said,' Ron disputed hotly, 'he's full of it and you know it.'

'I'm not worried about Malfoy, Hermione,' Harry said, finally.

Hermione turned away and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'boys...' before standing up, saying 'well, come on then, we better go to Hagrid's.'

'Well, that told you,' I muttered to Ron, standing up and following Harry and Hermione from the stand.

'Seriously, did your dad train you?' Ron asked, as we walked across the grounds.

'Sort of. He was always pressuring me into flying, and I suppose, him being who he was, I was never going to do anything but be a Quidditch player. And I was never going to be anything but a keeper. But he never really taught me any of his tricks, no. Most of it I figured out myself.'

'Well, nice one mate. Just play like that all the time and we'll win the cup easily.'

I gave him a nervous grin, muttering a muted thanks, looking up towards the school, seeing seven green-robed shapes carrying broomsticks, walking down towards the Quidditch pitch. Considering that we'd just come from there, it was obvious that we were going to pass each other.

'Well, you can see how good Malfoy is if you want to stay and watch,' I said to Ron, pointing out the Slytherin team to him.'

'That'd mean breathing the same air. No thanks.'

'Didn't think so,' I said, smiling to myself.

Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team stalked by, Malfoy the only one who deigned to notice our existence, nodding to each of us in turn. 'Potter. Weasley. Mudbloods.'

'Evening Malfoy,' Hermione smiled as the tall blonde Slytherin strode past.

'Someone really needs to do something to his face,' Ron muttered bitterly. 'Flatten it, maybe. Then he wouldn't be able to go everywhere with his nose in the air.'

Tea with Hagrid was fairly uneventful, with the exception of Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, slobbering all over my jeans.

'Don' mind 'im, 'e can't 'elp it,' Hagrid explained. Easy for him to say, he wasn't the one that was going to have to wash them!

We managed to get back up to the castle in time for me to make a start on that Herbology homework before dinner, and with Neville's help, I managed to get it all finished at about eleven thirty. The common room had pretty much emptied by the time I'd finished packing all my stuff into my back, just Harry and Hermione sitting by the fire playing a game of chess. I looked over to see one of Hermione's knights back Harry's king into a corner, knocking him over. Harry gave me a shrug, sitting back in the deep, squashy armchair.

'I'll see you tomorrow then, Harry,' Hermione said, standing up, picking up Crookshanks from his spot beside her chair and climbing the stairs to the girls' dormitory. I walked over to the chair beside him, and lowered myself into it wearily, looking over at Harry, who was packing the chess set away.

'Beaten by a girl?'

'Er, oh, yeah. She doesn't usually, though.'

'I bet.'

'No, really. Look, Miah, I kind of wanted her to go. I just wanted to say, you looked so good out there today. I've never seen anyone fly like that.'

'You should look at yourself more often then.'

'Huh?'

'Harry, I'm an ok player, I mean, I'm a decent keeper. But I'm not much of a FLYER. Just watching you fly was a revelation for me. I didn't know anyone could make it look so easy, but still be graceful.'

'Er, thanks...' Harry mumbled, blushing deeply. 'Look, Miah...' Suddenly Harry didn't seem to be able to meet my gaze.

'Yeah?'

'Uh, nothing, it's ok,' he said hurriedly, finishing packing up the chess set and practically running up the stairs to our bedroom, turning to say, 'Goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow,' before disappearing.

Now what did that mean, I wondered, sitting there, my mind going at a million miles an hour. I was wondering what it was that he was trying to tell me that he somehow couldn't. I'd noticed that

Hermione had been giving him glances all evening, and that she seemed to be worried about how flustered Harry seemed, but I suppose there was nothing much I could do about it right now anyway.

I sat down in the common room for a few minutes longer, giving Harry a chance to get into bed before going up the stairs.

"I bet it is going to rain for practice tomorrow," I thought as I climbed the stairs, but thoughts of clouds gave way to thoughts of Him again, and as my head hit the pillow, the likelihood of rain really didn't seem to matter at all.