Dragonseed I - The Serpent's Head

DRAGON SEED I - The Serpents Head

Chapter 5 - Heroes and Quidditch

At five a.m. on Saturday morning I gave up trying to sleep. Not because I wasn't tired; I was. But my body was a mass of nervous tension in anticipation of the Quidditch try-outs.

I had been out every evening that week until nightfall practicing my maneuvers, even if Marcus said I didn't need to and Judy said I was mad. I could not afford to fail. My Dad, Charlie Weasley, held the record as the second best Gryffindor Seeker in the last hundred years, big shoes to fill indeed. And I was determined to fill them.

Gyffindor had drawn second use of the pitch, which wasn't until ten o'clock. But the Hufflepuffs weren't starting until eight, so I had another opportunity to practice.

I dressed quickly, grabbed my broom and made my way quietly out of the dorms. As I entered the common room I realized I wasn't the only one up so early. The little dark haired girl we had met on Platform Nine and Three-quarters, Laura Mason, was standing over in the far corner, looking intently at the 'Harry Potter' wall.

The year after Harry Potter defeated Voldemort and disappeared from Wizarding Britain the Gryffindor seniors who had known him, including my Aunt Ginny, had erected a narrow glass fronted cabinet on the wall in what had been his favorite corner of the common room. And filled it with photographs, newspaper clippings and other bits of memorabilia of his time at Hogwarts.

I wandered over. "Fascinating, isn't it?" Behind the glass some of the images of the famous Harry Potter shyly waved and smiled at us. But the pictures I liked best were the ones in which he was flying. Even in these old photos it was clear that here was someone totally at one with their broom, a consummate image of aerial grace and agility.

She glanced at me quickly, and then returned to staring thoughtfully at the pictures behind the glass. "He was a real hero, wasn't he?" she said at last. Something in her tone indicated that she didn't totally believe it.

"Still is of course," I said.

She looked at me doubtfully. "What's he done in the last fourteen years that's heroic?" she asked.

"Lots of people were involved in the second war against Voldemort, my parents included," I explained, "but there were only three real heroes. Albus Dumbledore, who founded the Order of the Phoenix and led the main resistance, Severus Snape, the ex-Death Eater who risked his life as a spy for the Order, and Harry Potter, who finally defeated Voldemort. The other two are dead, so Harry Potter is our only living hero."

"Oh." She returned to looking at the display, from the skeptical expression on her face, I could see she was unconvinced.

"I've met him you know," I added.

She didn't appear to be too impressed. "Why is that splintery piece of wood in there?" she asked.

"That's a fragment of his first broom. Harry Potter was the best Seeker for Gryffindor house in the last hundred years." As I spoke I suddenly remembered where I had been going. "I have to go now. I'm practicing for the Quidditch try-outs today."

"Can I come and watch? The other girls in my year are all late sleepers."

"Especially Judy."

We both laughed and headed out of the common room together.

It was nice to have a spectator as I practiced. Somehow Laura's presence gave me a bit more confidence.

"You seem to be an amazing flyer," she said as we walked back from the pitch for breakfast.

"What do you mean 'seem to be'?"

"Well I have never seen people flying on broom sticks before so I don't really have anyone to compare you with."

That puzzled me. "You told Judy your dad's a wizard."

She frowned and slowed down a little, not looking at me. "He didn't have a lot to do with me as a kid. Mum's a Muggle and that's how I've been raised 'til this year."

I patted her arm in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. "That's OK. We will just have to bring you up to speed won't we?"

She managed a half smile. "That's just what Judy said."

"You will come and watch the try-outs?" I just knew after the early morning session that if she was there I would do better.

"Of course."

I entered the Great Hall on a warm wave of relief.

***

It was the kind of September morning that still felt like summer. The sky was clear and blue and the air was warm. Sitting half way up the stands, Marcus could smell the fresh green scent of the clipped grass on the Quidditch pitch.

He was the only one in the Slytherin stand this morning. Their try-outs were later that afternoon, but he was here to watch the Gryffindors - or one in particular. His eyes followed the distinctive black hair and slight figure of his cousin as he flew twenty meters above the ground.

When it came to natural talent and grace on a broom, Marcus knew that James beat him hands down - not that he would ever admit that to anyone, not even James. His eyes followed the lazy spirals that James traced in the air as he looked for the Snitch.

There were three students trying out for Gryffindor Seeker and James had beaten the first one to the Snitch three out of three and was two up against the other. If he got it this time the position would be his.

Marcus' eyes also scanned the pitch for that elusive flash of gold. Suddenly James dropped down in a swooping rush headed directly towards the base of the nearest goal post ... at the speed he was going collision would seem inevitable ... at the last moment the broom swung slightly to one side, James' arm reached down and grabbed something glinting gold at the very foot of the post and he looped around the post holding the Snitch up triumphantly in the air. As he flew back past he turned slightly and acknowledged his cousin's presence with a slight wave.

Marcus stood up and started to make his way down from the stand. He watched as James landed and the Gryffindor captain Nathan Wood came over and talked to him, presumably to confirm his place on the team. Close behind the captain were two much smaller figures. One was easy to recognize, as Judy Weasley's bright red hair gleamed like flames in the bright sunlight. Her companion Marcus didn't recognize, smaller and slighter than Judy with shoulder length black hair. Looks like James has an admirer, he thought, and resolved to tease his cousin at the first opportunity.

Marcus did not join them, but turned and walked slowly back to the Slytherin dungeons. Saturday lunch time was usually a relaxed affair at Hogwarts and the only restriction on his time was the obligation to be back out on the Quidditch pitch again at three o'clock. Since his position as Seeker was already assured, he really couldn't understand why he had to be there for the try-outs, but it was an excuse to fly so he didn't complain.

There were a reasonable number of students sitting in the common room. Most of the fifth and seventh years were there, already burdened with the excessive homework load created by the imminent spectre of the OWLs and NEWTs that they would face at the end of the year. Some of the younger students had escaped outside to take advantage of the unseasonably warm weather.

He looked around quickly. Stephen wasn't in the common room, so he went straight up the stairs to their dorm. As he entered Stephen looked up from his bed where he was stretched out on his stomach with a book propped up on the pillow.

"What's this? You are not studying, that's not possible!"

"Of course not," said Stephen, waving his copy of the latest wizard spy thriller in the air. "Can't waste a perfectly good weekend studying."

"Time for you to come back to the real world. It's nearly lunchtime."

Stephen shut the book and sat up. "How did the Gryffindor try outs go?"

"Dunno about the Beaters, but it looks like I've got some serious competition this year," he said grinning.

"Your cousin James?"

"Who else?"

"I don't see why you're so happy then," said Stephen as he pulled his shoes on."

"Because I'd rather take on the best, even if there is a higher risk of failure. No challenge, no fun."

At this point the midday peace was ripped asunder by the sound of loud shrieking echoing up the stairwell from the common room.

"Give that back here, you bitch!"

Stephen and Marcus looked at each other in alarm and as one sprinted down the stairs to the common room.

Standing in the middle of the room with her back half turned to them was the plump form of first year Serena Flint with a smug look on her face and something clutched behind her back. Her mousy brown hair was falling out of its pigtails as if it had been pulled.

Standing at the foot of the stairs leading to the girls' dorms was the source of the noise. Bella Smith stood there, a nasty scowl on her face and her hands on her hips. Standing two steps behind her was a skinny little blonde first year, who looked like she was about to cry. As Bella started to lunge forward towards Serena, she was stopped by two of the other first years grabbing her arms.

"Let go of me! I just want to get my album back."

"I only wanted to have a look," smirked Serena.

"Then you should've asked, instead of nicking it off the top of my trunk."

All the other students in the room were standing back watching the drama unfold. Quietly, not wanting to divert attention to himself, Marcus moved forward.

"Why should I bother to ask? You're only a no account Mudblood."

"And you're a stuck-up pure blood piece of lard, but I don't touch your things."

At this point Marcus was close enough. He reached over and grabbed the small, shiny book out of Serena's hands. She whirled round in shock.

"What did you do that for?"

Marcus looked down his nose at her. "Because it's not yours and I think its owner wants it back," he said, oh so politely.

"It's not your business to interfere, Weasley. You're not a prefect or anything."

He sneered. "Oh, but I think it is," he raised his voice slightly for the benefit of the onlookers. "Especially as there are prefects present and none of them saw fit to intervene."

At that, he turned sharply and headed for his favorite chair.

"Excuse me," said a shrill voice behind him. He turned slowly to look directly into the dark narrowed eyes of Bella Smith. "You still have my album."

He smiled. "Of course I do. No point in giving it back only to have it stolen again. I was just going to put a protective charm on it." He paused for a moment, watching the look of puzzlement on her face. "Actually, I'll show you while I do it. I'm sure you have other personal items that need protecting.

He sat down next to Stephen. Bella remained standing in front of him. He noticed the little blonde follow her over, after glancing nervously towards the outer door where the other first year girls had disappeared.

Marcus handed Bella the book, then tapped it with his wand "Alien Crucium," then sat back and looked up at her. "That should do it."

"Er ... thank you," she hesitated, holding the little book out towards him. "Don't you want to have a look?"

He shrugged. "Not really. It's obviously personal and looks really plastic and Muggle, so I don't really care."

"It's my photos from home." She seemed quite disappointed. "I only got it out to show Sophie." The blonde girl blushed. At least, thought Marcus, she has the grace to be embarrassed at being the unwitting cause of the confrontation.

Sensing the discomfort of the two girls, Marcus decided it was time to get to know Miss Isabella Smith a bit better, so he turned on the charm.

"Tell you what," he said, flashing his most brilliant smile, "Stephen and I will wait here while you put your precious album thingy away and then we'll escort you to lunch, if you like."

At this Bella gave the slightest of smiles and Sophie blushed a brilliant red, before they both turned tail and ran up the stairs to their room.

"What did you do that for, Weasley?" Marcus turned to see the - in his opinion - decidedly ugly faces of Adrian Flint and Maurice Bole looming behind him.

"Do what, Adrian?" he replied, raising one eyebrow.

"Defend the Mudblood."

Marcus stood slowly and glared up at the older boys. "Since our prefects aren't up to keeping peace in Slytherin house", he said, shooting a scathing glance at Bole, "someone had to do something before the teachers start to think we can't be trusted to look after ourselves."

At that he pushed past them and swaggered to the foot of the stairs without a backward glance, to meet the girls.