Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

The next morning after breakfast, Harry and Ron, still aching from the previous night's run, made their way down to the Quidditch pitch. Ron was nervous.

"I still wish I could use your Firebolt, Harry," he said, looking disinterestedly at the school broom in his right hand.

Harry sighed. He had told Ron a million times already. "It wouldn't help; you wouldn't be using a Firebolt during the games. Plus, you're not used to it, so you might actually fly worse on it. And--"

"I know, I know," Ron interrupted resignedly, "none of the others will be trying out on Firebolts either." They made their way onto the field and walked over to the small group of hopeful Gryffindors gathered at the far side. Two rather large seventh-years stood talking with a freckle-faced sixth-year and Seamus Finnigan.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, looking around. "She said she'd meet us here."

"I dunno."

Harry saw that the other members of the team were seated in the first row of the stands. He wished Ron good luck and took a seat next to George.

"Right then, let's get started," Angelina called to the hopefuls. She, Katie, and Alicia picked up their brooms and a Quaffle and walked out onto the field. Together they kicked off from the ground and soared into the air. It looked like fun, Harry thought; he began to grow excited about the coming Quidditch season. After all, it had been over a year since he'd played Quidditch at Hogwarts.

"First contestant," Katie shouted, "come on up and guard that goal." She pointed to the three goal hoops to Harry's left.

The contestants conferred briefly, and finally Bernard Skinner, one of the seventh-year boys, flew up to the scoring area. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia began trying to score. Bernard blocked most of their attempts to score, but they managed to get the ball past him five times.

"He's alright," Fred said to George. "Better than I expected. He's definitely improved since he tried out for Beater with us." He grinned.

"Yeah, he could barely keep himself from getting hit by the Bludger, much less hit it toward another player," George agreed.

One by one, each contestant took his or her turn trying to prevent the three Chasers from scoring. Seamus did quite well, though he wasn't as fast as the older boys. Finally it was Ron's turn.

He looked at Harry and smiled anxiously as he kicked off from the ground.

"Ron's pretty good," George told Harry, "but I'm not sure how he'll do against this lot."

But to George's surprise (and, although he never would've admitted it, Harry's), Ron was the more successful than any of the other contestants. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie were so impressed that they even attempted a Hawkshead Attacking Formation, just to see how he would respond. The three of them, side by side, moved menacingly toward the goal hoops. Ron looked nervous, but he stood his ground. Finally, Angelina threw the Quaffle toward the middle hoop--and Ron batted it out of the way just in time.

"Brilliant, Ron!" George cried, impressed. "They only scored on him twice! He might even give Oliver Wood a run for his money, if he were still here."

Just then, two figures came running out onto the Quidditch pitch. One, the brunette, ran ahead and seemed to be coaxing the other to the side of the field where Harry, Fred, and George sat. The second, more reluctant, figure carried a battered old broomstick and had flaming red hair that gleamed in the sunlight.

"Hermione?" Harry mumbled.

"Ginny?" Fred and George said at once.

Hermione reached the three of them first. "We're not too late, are we? They haven't picked a Keeper yet, I mean?" Fred and George shook their heads. "Harry," she whispered, "I've just convinced her to come and try out, it took me all morning. You've got to let her, now I've got her all the way down here."

"Hang on," said Fred incredulously as Ginny joined them, "you mean she's trying out? Um, Ginny," he looked nervously at George, "I don't think you understand. I mean, Keeper is a dangerous position to play."

"Oh, honestly! They're all dangerous positions!" Hermione fumed. "Are you going to let her try out or not?"

"Wait a second, is it your idea or hers? Ginny," George asked, "do you want to try out?"

Ginny looked around and swallowed hard. "Yes," she answered.

"Hey Ginny! Hermione!" Ron and the three Chasers had just landed nearby. "You missed it! I was brilliant! Wasn't I, Harry? Come on, admit it." He grinned at Harry, oblivious to the fact that everyone's gaze was focused on Ginny, not him.

"Yeah," Harry said, realizing just a bit too slowly that Ron was speaking to him.

"Oi, you three!" called George to the Chasers. "We have another contestant here." He pointed at Ginny. Ron's expression changed from triumphant to puzzled. He frowned at Ginny.

Angelina looked over at her. "Well, come on then. Let's see what you can do."

Ginny rushed out onto the field. The four of them kicked off, and Ginny situated herself in front of the goal hoops. The three Chasers began trying to score, slowly at first, as though they didn't expect Ginny to be able to keep up. But, to everyone's surprise, Ginny blocked every shot they took. Finally they began to throw the Quaffle harder--and still failed to score.

"Blimey, she's fast," George whispered. "I knew she could play, but ..." His voice trailed off.

The three Chasers seemed as surprised at Ginny's performance as Fred, George, Ron, and Harry were. They threw the Quaffle at the goals harder and harder, still to no avail, until finally Alicia saw a perfect opportunity to score. Ginny had placed herself just a bit too high, and Alicia threw the ball below her and at an angle. In a flash, Ginny sped to meet the ball, but still she couldn't reach it in time. As the spectators watched open mouthed, she hooked her right foot around the broomstick and, still holding onto the stick with her right hand, dropped the rest of her body down below it, so that she was hanging off. Her fingertips caught the ball just in time to knock it off-course. It flew just below the rim of the goal hoop.

"Starfish and stick! Perfectly executed!" George yelled in amazement. He stood up, and Fred followed suit.

"Ginny!" Fred bellowed as she dismounted. "That was--"

"Amazing!" George interrupted. "Really. How did you ... Where did you learn to fly like that?" They ran over to meet her on the field.

Ginny blushed. "Well, I just taught myself, mostly. Hermione helped me practice a bit over the summer." A sheepish grin crept over her face as she glanced at Hermione.

Hermione was beaming. "Ha! She's a natural! I told her she'd make a perfect Keeper. What do you think, Ron, can you believe it?"

But Ron looked completely horrified. He had just been shown up at Quidditch by his little sister.

"Hermione," he whispered hoarsely. "You ... you told her to try out? You did this?"

Hermione frowned at him. "No, Ron, that's the point--she did this. She was brilliant! Say, what's wrong with you, anyway?"

But Ron was shaking his head as though he were trying to convince himself it was all a bad dream.

"I'm going back to the castle," he mumbled, and swept out of the stands, off the field, and up to the Great Hall.

"Oh, really!" Hermione exclaimed. Just then Ginny walked over to the stands where she and Harry stood.

"They've just told me, Hermione! I'm the new Keeper!"

"Well, of course you are! See? I told you you were good!"

"Yeah, Ginny," Harry added. "That was ... awesome."

Ginny smiled at him, then looked around. "Say, where's Ron? He's the Reserve Keeper; they'll be wanting to tell him."

"Um, he had to go back to the castle for something. We'll tell him," answered Hermione, glancing meaningfully at Harry. Neither of them wanted to ruin Ginny's moment in the sun by telling her about Ron's reaction.

Harry crawled through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room fifteen minutes later to find Ron sitting in a corner, dejected. Harry walked over timidly and sat down. He didn't know what to expect from Ron; he was moody, and Harry was afraid Ron might lash out at him. Still, Harry spoke.

"Ron? You alright?"

"I wanted that," Ron mumbled, looking at the floor. "I really wanted it. Been thinking about it all summer."

"Well, it's alright. Hey, listen, you're the Reserve!"

This news did not alter Ron's mood. He closed his eyes, opened them again, and looked up at Harry earnestly. "You don't understand, Harry. There's always someone better." He paused and looked down again. "Bill and Percy were each Head Boy. They were better at school than I am. You're--" he gestured listlessly toward Harry, "you're Harry Potter. You're more popular than I am. I wanted to be good at something, just for a little while. I wanted to be the best. And for a second I thought I was. But I'm not."

Ron looked back up at Harry. "I don't blame you, Harry. I don't even blame Hermione--she meant well. It's nobody's fault. I guess ... I guess there's just nothing that I'm the best at."

Harry didn't know what to say. He had seen Ron angry; he knew how to handle that. But seeing Ron depressed was another thing altogether.

At that moment, Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered the Common Room. Hermione walked determinedly over to Harry and Ron.

"Now you listen, Ron," she began in a whisper, "this is Ginny's moment and you are not going to ruin it for her! You always go on about how difficult it is for you, with five older brothers--well, she's got six! Imagine how it is for her! She's--" But Ron put up a hand to stop her.

"It's alright," he mumbled. "Don't worry." He sighed. "I'd better go congratulate her."

Putting on a cheerful mask that veiled his despondency very thinly, Ron got up, crossed the room, and patted Ginny on the shoulder as he spoke to her. Hermione put a finger to her lips and watched.

"Hmmm. Well, I don't reckon I handled that very well, did I? Is he very upset?" she asked, turning to Harry.

"Yeah." Harry stood up. "He went on about how he wanted to be the best at something, just for a little while. He took it pretty hard."

Hermione suddenly looked ashamed. "Oh," was all she said. She watched Ron smiling at, and talking with, the Gryffindor Quidditch team members.

Harry had an idea. "Come on," he said to Hermione. "I think I know something that might cheer him up. Let's see if he feels like paying a visit to Hagrid."

***

That day after lunch, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down to Hagrid's hut. When Hagrid opened his door to find them standing on his front porch, he was pleasantly surprised.

"Well, hullo!" Hagrid boomed. "Yer just in time! I've just been bakin' some scones. Come in!"

They filed inside and sat around his table, thankful that they had just eaten a large lunch. Fang the boarhound jumped on them all in turn, but greeted Harry with particular enthusiasm. "No thanks, Hagrid," Harry declined, pushing Fang down. "We've just eaten."

"Oh," Hagrid's face fell. "Maybe just a bit o' tea then."

As he served their tea, Hagrid noticed Ron's preoccupation and unusual silence. He smiled. "Just heard about yer sister, Ron," he said.

Ron started. "Already? It's only been a few hours!"

"Well, I saw yer brothers nosin' around the edge of the Forest--again." Hagrid shook his head. He took a seat at the table across from Ron. "They told me. They were proud though. Not upset like you."

Ron looked down at his tea. "You don't understand," he almost whispered.

"Don' understand!" Hagrid exclaimed, and suddenly let out a loud hoot of laughter. "Yeh think I don' understand, Ron?" He looked across the table at Ron, his great brown eyes smiling gently down at him. "Ron, don' yeh think that I wanted to be the best at something too? Don' get me wrong, I love bein' groundskeeper here, an' I love bein' a teacher. But I'm not very good at it, I know."

"Hagrid!" Hermione chided him. "That's not true!"

"No, Hermione, it's all right. I can face facts. The point is," he focused on Ron again, "that's okay. I'm not the best teacher in the world, but I'm gettin' better. An' even if I'm never a great teacher, tha's not the most important thing in life anyway."

Ron looked confused. "Hagrid, what are you getting at?"

Hagrid smiled again. "Ron, look around. Yer friends. What matters the most to us in life isn't the things we have, or the things we do, it's the friends we make along the way."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Ron appeared to consider this. And although he spoke less than usual for the remainder of that afternoon, Harry noticed that his mood had lightened a little. The four of them sat in Hagrid's hut for a few hours and talked about the coming Quidditch season, classes, and Streelers. When they finally stepped out of Hagrid's hut and onto his front porch, the sun was just starting to touch the tops of the trees in the forest behind them. In the distance they could see Professor Green leading a group of hapless first-years down to the lakeside.

***

At a quarter to six on Monday morning, Harry was awakened by Ron tugging roughly at his shoulder.

"Harry! Come on! We've got to meet Green on the lawn in fifteen minutes."

"Unnnnnffff," was all Harry managed to reply. From what seemed like very far away, he heard Seamus snicker.

"Just leave him here, Ron. I want to see what happens if she has to come for him."

"A'right! I'm up!" He sat up and put on his glasses. The room was pitch black. He dressed quickly and followed the other fifth-years down into the common room. There they met Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati, who looked quite as sleepy as Harry felt.

"Come on," Hermione mumbled, leading the way out of the portrait hole and down through the castle, onto the grounds.

Professor Green wasn't on the lawn this time. They found her down on the lakeside in the dark, with Sirius the dog again, waiting for them. At six o'clock, just as the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon, she counted the assembled fifth-years and gave them all an approving smile. "Well, you made it," she announced. "The hardest part is over. Now, you know the drill. Same run as last time. Only this time, let's try to pick up the pace a little, shall we?" She pulled the stopwatch out of her pocket, and began to put the whistle to her mouth.

Just then, a figure separated from the crowd of students and walked up to her. Squinting through the receding darkness, Harry could see that the figure had white-blond hair and was wearing normal day robes, not the gray workout robes the rest of the fifth-years wore.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Professor," he began in a silky tone. "I can't run today. I think I strained my ankle on Friday, and it just hasn't gotten any better." Harry could hear the smug smile creeping onto Malfoy's pointy little face. "I have a note from Madam Pomfrey." He handed her a slip of parchment.

Professor Green took the note, but kept her eyes on Malfoy's face. She pocketed the watch and whistle again. "So you do," she said, without looking down. "Malfoy, you say you're hurt?"

"That's right." Harry could see that Malfoy had shifted his weight over to his right foot, as though his left were hurting him. Professor Green continued to stare at him. He began to fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Professor Green spoke very slowly. "You're lying. Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. Now fall in with the rest of the students."

Malfoy's jaw dropped. "I ... I ... I'm hurt! I can't run! My ankle!"

"That'll be ten points from Slytherin."

Malfoy's voice lowered in indignation. "Professor, I cannot run today. I'm injured--"

"Really, Mr. Malfoy, your continued lies leave me no other choice but to assign detention. Now, fall in."

"But I--" Malfoy paused, obviously choosing his words carefully now. "I have a note!"

"What, this note?" Professor Green asked, looking down at the note in her hand as though she had just noticed it. She stepped toward him. While Malfoy watched in horror, she held the note up in front of his face and proceeded to shred it into tiny fragments. As she tore it, the wind blew tiny bits of parchment into Malfoy's face and hair. He didn't move. Harry couldn't see the color of his face, but he was sure that Malfoy must be scarlet with rage.

"But I'm not dressed for running!"

Professor Green backed up and drew the watch and whistle out of her pocket again. "Should've thought about that before you decided to come down here and lie to get out of it, now, shouldn't you? Consider it a valuable lesson."

She looked down at the watch, put the whistle to her lips, and blew it. This time all the fifth-years began running at once, even the Slytherins. Malfoy grudgingly set off at a very light jog. "Professor Snape will hear about this," he mumbled.

"Yes, he will," Harry heard Professor Green say to herself as he passed her. "But not from you."

That morning's run was almost as difficult as the previous Friday's, but Harry noted that most of the students' times had improved. Again Harry was one of the first students to finish, and Neville was the very last. As they all circled the lawn to cool down, Professor Green walked over to Harry.

"Harry," she said as she began to walk beside him, "I'd like to speak to you for a moment in my office, if you don't mind."

"Alright."

Hermione and Ron looked quizzically after him as he followed Professor Green and Sirius up the steps to the Great Hall. He looked back at them and shrugged.

They climbed the flight of stairs in the entrance hall and walked to her office.

"Please sit down," she said, motioning toward a chair in front of her desk. She sat behind the desk. Sirius sat on the floor next to Harry's chair.

"Harry, I wanted to speak to you briefly about your performance out there. I'm going to be honest: I'm very disappointed."

Harry's eyes opened wide in shock. "What? I don't understand. I was one of the first to finish!"

She looked at him intently, and Harry felt--as he had so many times with Professor Dumbledore--that she was looking right through him. "Come on, Harry. It's me. I know what you're capable of. You're holding out--you can do better."

Harry thought for a moment. He supposed he hadn't been trying his hardest. He was fast, so he had assumed that he didn't have to work as hard as the other students.

"I don't care how hard you work relative to the other students," she said uncannily, "I'm only interested in how close you come to reaching your full potential. Take Neville. He's the only one I don't pick on. Why? Because he works harder than anyone else."

Harry began to understand. He nodded. "Alright," he sighed. "I'll try harder."

"Good," she smiled. "Now, I think someone wants to have a word with you," she said, glancing down at Sirius, then back up at Harry. "I'm going down to breakfast."

Professor Green got up and walked to the door. "Don't stay too long; you've got to get ready for your other classes." She opened the door stepped out, and shut it behind her. Suddenly, the door swung open again, and Professor Green's head poked back into the room. "Oh yes. And don't touch anything!"

***

Harry and Sirius talked for nearly an hour. Harry, who was very happy to finally be able to speak to his godfather alone, told him all about his summer with the Dursleys, Percy's wedding, and classes. As he spoke, he noticed that Sirius looked very well--much better than he had last year. He wasn't as gaunt, and he seemed happier. But then, Harry thought, this year Sirius wasn't living in a cave and eating rats.

Sirius, in turn, told Harry that Dumbledore was working with Mrs. Figg and Professor Lupin to try to find out where Voldemort was and what he was doing.

"Dumbledore's got me taking messages to Remus for him. Owl post is usually reliable, but ... there are some communications he'd rather not send by owl. So I deliver them personally."

"Have you found out anything?" Harry asked.

Sirius shook his head. "Not a word. And Remus has contacts--being a werewolf does make it easy to infiltrate certain circles. But he's found out nothing."

Sirius stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of Professor Green's desk. "You know, this might be even worse than knowing something terrible is going to happen--this not knowing what to expect."

Harry agreed. The silence was unnerving.

Finally, Harry left Sirius, went down to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast, and then back up to Gryffindor Tower to change for Divination class.

The week passed quickly. Harry filled Ron and Hermione in on his discussion with Sirius, but they were all so busy with classes and, in Harry and Ron's case, Quidditch practice, that they barely had time to discuss Voldemort.

On Friday, Harry noticed that the Slytherins arrived to Potions class on time. Unfortunately, however, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle slipped into class just before the bell rang and were forced to take the only available seats -right behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Snape explained the proper way to brew a Mind-Blocking Potion--"an effective defense against mind reading Dark wizards". (Harry noted that almost all of his classes this year focused on defending oneself against Dark magic.) As soon as Snape finished speaking and began prowling about from desk to desk, Malfoy started to grumble.

"--didn't even listen!"

"And you told him about the note and all?" Goyle grunted.

"Yes, of course I did, you moron! He didn't care! 'Professor Green has been trained to identify deception, Malfoy.'" Malfoy paused and began chopping his ginger root fiercely. "I had to do my detention last night, feeding that stupid Streeler of Hagrid's. Disgusting thing. Stepped in its slime trail and accidentally ruined my new shoes!"

Ron snickered. Harry and Hermione tried to stifle their laughter, but Malfoy could see them tittering.

"Of course you think it's funny, Weasley," Malfoy fumed quietly. They didn't look back at him. He paused for a moment, and when he spoke next, his voice had regained its usual infuriating smugness. "You like that idiot witch and her smelly dog, don't you? I bet it's a huge step up for the Weasleys--to be related to a family as well-respected as the Clearwaters." So Malfoy had heard about Percy's wedding, and knew that Penelope was Professor Green's sister. He continued, "but if it were me, I'd be mortified. She was married to an Envoy, imagine! I'd rather die than be related to a Mudblood-loving fool like tha--"

"MALFOY!" a voice roared behind them. Malfoy had been so carried away insulting Ron and Professor Green that he hadn't heard Snape walk up behind him, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Sir?"

Harry noted with satisfaction that Malfoy's voice now had a distinctive tremble to it. He listened intently, though he didn't dare turn around.

"I will not have you speaking that way about your teachers in this class! Ten points from Slytherin!" hissed Snape, infuriated.

Everyone in the class immediately stopped what they were doing. Whispers ceased in mid-syllable; knives were suddenly rendered immobile in mid-chop. Everyone, even Harry, Ron, and Hermione, turned and looked at Snape. Never in the duration of their academic careers at Hogwarts had any of them witnessed Snape taking points from his own house.

Malfoy was speechless, and even paler than usual. "S-sir?" he sputtered feebly.

"You heard me, Malfoy!" Snape's voice was lowered almost to a whisper, but the classroom was now so quiet that everyone heard him clearly. He leaned closer to Malfoy. "I will not tolerate that kind of disrespect towards faculty members at this school. Not even from you. If I ever hear you speaking that way about a teacher again, I will ensure that you receive detention. Is that clear?"

Malfoy just nodded, speechless.

Snape looked up at the classroom full of gaping students. At once, they made concerted efforts to look as busy as possible, so as to avoid Snape's wrath themselves.

But Snape punished no one else for the remainder of the class period. Granted, the class was unusually well-behaved after his outburst at Malfoy. But, as Ron noted while they made their way up the dungeon stairs, good behavior had never prevented Snape taking points away before.

"And what was all that about disrespecting teachers?" Ron added. "Doesn't he remember Lupin? When he substituted for him, all Snape talked about was how bad a teacher he was."

"Maybe it's Malfoy," Harry answered. "You remember at the end of last term, when I mentioned Lucius Malfoy's name as one of the Death Eaters? Snape was surprised. Maybe he doesn't like Malfoy anymore now that he knows his dad's a Death Eater."

"Hmmm." Hermione didn't look convinced. "Malfoy was saying something about Professor Green, wasn't he?"

"So?" Ron shrugged.

"Haven't you ever noticed," she said quietly, looking around, "that Snape acts kind of--differently--around her?"

Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled looks. Harry remembered the night of the feast, and how Snape had looked away when Professor Green had looked at him.

"Well, she's an Auror, isn't she? I reckon he's afraid of her, just like he was of Mad-Eye Moody."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't you ever notice them talking in the corridors? He doesn't usually talk to anyone, does he?"

Ron appeared to take her meaning, then become incredibly nauseous. "What--are you saying--you think he--likes her, or something?"

Hermione just shrugged, smiling. "How should I know? But it is suspicious, isn't it?"

"Hermione!" Ron cried so loudly that Hermione had to shush him. "Please! I don't want to lose my lunch, after all."

All three of them laughed.

They had reached the top of the stairs and were about to cross the entrance hall, when they noticed a crowd gathered in front of the doors to the Great Hall. Because Harry was rather shorter than average, he had a difficult time seeing, but it sounded like--

"A fight!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione frowned, and instantly cut a path to the center of the crowd. The students parted to let her through, and Harry could see a girl, who he recognized from the night of the Sorting as a Slytherin first-year, standing next to two Gryffindor second-years. Three wands lay on the floor, along with books, strands of hair, and pieces torn from the left arm of the first-year girl's dress robes.

"She started it!" one of the Gryffindor girls shouted at Hermione as she approached. The first-year was bleeding from a cut just below her left eye.

"I did not!" The first-year scowled, though she was on the verge of tears. "They attacked me!"

"Don't try to play innocent, you slimy Slytherin," snarled the other Gryffindor girl.

Harry was taken aback; he had never seen a fight in the corridors at school, not even in his second year, when tensions against Slytherin House ran at an all-time high because nearly the entire school had blamed Slytherin House for the basilisk attacks.

"Come on, let's go, all of you," Hermione ordered the three girls. They followed her up the stairs and, Harry supposed, to the hospital wing.

"Probably deserved it," muttered a Ravenclaw third-year on Harry's left.

Harry and Ron walked past the crowd and up to the Gryffindor common room.