Harry Potter and the Sect of the Serpent

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Practice

A glimmer of gold caught Harry's eye and he swerved wildly to the left, the warm evening breeze ruffling his hair and robes. As he neared the stands, the glint came slowly into focus until he could make out the blur of fluttering wings on each side. The Snitch dropped several feet and zipped suddenly to the right, but Harry followed, gaining on it with every turn. He heard a cheer from the stands as his fingers closed around the struggling wings and he pulled up hard on his broom handle, slowing his descent towards the rapidly approaching ground.

In the stands, Hermione and Dor were clapping and cheering for him, and above him, his teammates had paused their practice to watch his dive.

"We're going to kick the Hufflepuffs' furry yellow BUTTS on Saturday!" Andrew roared, swinging his Beater's bat around his head like a baton. "Those brainless badgers won't know what hit 'em!"

"Good catch, Harry," Ginny said breathlessly as she flew up beside him.

"Thanks," he replied with a grin. Dor had started shouting weird cheers he had made up, but only every second or third word drifted across the pitch to them, making the chants completely incomprehensible. "How's everybody feeling?" Harry asked, looking around the impromptu circle that his team had formed. Most grinned or nodded, and Andrew started doing a little jig on his broom.

"Fit as a fiddle and ready for lo-oove!" he sang off tune, and everybody laughed.

Suddenly, Dor's cheering turned to boos and hisses.

"Hey!" Andrew protested, swinging around to face the stands. "My dancing isn't that bad! I... Uh-oh."

Harry turned to look. At the far end of the pitch, seven figures dressed in green robes were emerging from the changing rooms.

"Come on then..." Andrew swore softly, glaring at the assembling Slytherins.

"What do they think they're doing?" Katie demanded. "We booked the pitch for this evening."

"I'll go and check it out," Harry replied, releasing the struggling Snitch from his fist.

"I'll come with you," Ron added quickly. As Harry dove off towards the far end of the pitch, however, it wasn't only Ron behind him. His entire team fell into formation, ready to square off against the Slytherins. Harry glanced over towards the stands and saw Hermione chasing after Dor, who was quickly making his way down towards the pitch.

"What d'you think you're doing?" Harry demanded, landing easily and jogging up to Bletchley, the Slytherin team captain.

"We've got special dispensation to practice tonight," Bletchley said with a yellow toothed grin, "from Professor Snape."

"They've tried this before," Katie said loudly from behind Harry. "You steal all your tricks from Flint, Bletchley? Maybe you'll fail all your N.E.W.T.s and stay on an extra year like him, too."

Bletchley shot her a supremely unconcerned look. "Sticks and stones, Bell. I've got a note."

"Ooo..." Andrew shivered. "Watch out. He's got a note!"

Harry snatched the parchment out of Bletchley's outstretched fingers, his eyes quickly running over the familiar script. "...Owing to the need to train their new Seeker..." he read aloud. "What new Seeker?"

Crabbe and Goyle stepped aside to reveal Theodore Nott standing between them, grinning like an idiot. Harry gave him an incredulous look.

"Where's Malfoy?" he asked, turning his attention back to Bletchley.

"None of your bloody business, Potter," Bletchley spat. "Now either get off the pitch or budge over and get ready to share."

"No way!" Ginny cried angrily. "We were here first, we reserved the pitch first, and we're not going anywhere. You can just wait!"

"Watch your mouth, little weasel," Nott simpered, "or we might have to teach you a lesson."

"I'd like to see you try!" Ron snarled, pushing forward. Ginny caught him by one arm.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Andrew shouted, holding up his arms. "I've got a brilliant idea." His dark eyes glinted mischievously as he glanced around the group. "What would you say to a little practice match?"

Bletchley narrowed his eyes. "I don't know," he said slowly. "We've never even practiced with our new See--"

"Best way to learn is to jump right in," Andrew interjected with a malicious grin at Nott. "Wouldn't you say so, Harry?"

Harry glanced from Andrew over to Nott, who had suddenly gone several shades whiter, his freckles standing out darkly across the bridge of his enormous nose. "Oh yeah," Harry said with a smile. "That's the only way to learn." He glanced back at Bletchley. "Unless you're afraid you'll lose."

Bletchley frowned. "Give us five minutes to warm up," he growled, "and we'll wipe the pitch with you losers." He motioned over his shoulder for the rest of the Slytherins to take off.

Dor and Hermione came striding across the grass; Dor did not look happy.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "Why are they here?"

"Quick grudge match," Andrew said happily, stretching his arms and swinging his bat about. "Should be over in no time. That Nott's a rubbish flyer -- even worse than Sloper is!"

"Hey!" Jack said, shoving Andrew, who promptly turned and tackled him to the ground.

"Harry," Dor said quietly taking him off to one side. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea."

"Why not?" Harry asked, shrugging away from Dor's grasp.

"Hello?" Dor said quietly, knocking his fist on Harry's forehead. "Assassins? Kidnappers? Rampaging chimeras?" He crossed his arms and frowned. "Any of this ringing a bell?"

"And you think that one of them is the attacker?" Harry asked skeptically, pointing to the green robed figures flying after the Quaffle.

"How much do you know about any of them, Harry?" Dor countered. "I mean really know? At this point, anyone who had access to you during your Care of Magical Creatures class is a suspect -- which means everyone at Hogwarts."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Katie shouting that they were ready to go. He quickly backed away from Dor.

"It's just Quidditch," he said, exasperated as Ron tossed him the Quaffle. "Nobody's died in years!"

Dor frowned.

Harry turned back and threw the Quaffle to him. "You start us off, alright?"

Dor was still frowning, but he followed Harry towards the center of the pitch. Harry jogged a few steps and got a running start onto his broom, leaping into the air and swooping up to face Nott, who looked as though someone had just poured a pitcher of ice water down the back of his robes.

"Snitch and Bludgers are already loose," Harry called to Bletchley, "and Dor's going to release the Quaffle. Same rules as a regular match."

Bletchley nodded mutely as he turned and headed for one set of goals. Harry caught Ron's eye, nodded, and Ron took off to defend the other side.

"Right, then!" Dor shouted from below them. He hurled the Quaffle straight into the air and Ginny caught it smoothly, darting between the Slytherin Chasers with Katie and Will flanking her on either side.

Harry took off in the other direction at lightening speed, hoping to confuse and disorient the Slytherin Chasers. Nott tried vainly to follow, but he was nowhere near as good a flier even as Malfoy. Harry glanced up in time to see Ginny pass the Quaffle to Will, who scored easily against Bletchley. Hermione was clapping wildly from the stands; Dor, however, was standing on the pitch watching the action with a serious expression, one hand shoved deep in the pocket of his robes.

Harry frowned, making a quick turn that almost sent the clumsily following Nott crashing into the stands. These Slytherins were a nasty bunch, rotten to the core, but they were hardly assassins. A Bludger whistled past Harry and he rolled easily to one side. Behind him, Nott grunted as the ball grazed his broom, sending him spinning off course.

One of the Slytherin Chasers had the Quaffle now, and Harry veered upwards to watch as they headed straight for Ron. Crabbe was chasing a Bludger, and whacked it hard with his bat. Harry's eyes widened.

"Ron!" he shouted, but it was too late. Preoccupied with guarding his goals, Ron never saw the Bludger coming. It crashed into his left shoulder, knocking him off his broom. Harry dove immediately towards the goal hoops as the Slytherins scored.

Just then, Harry saw it: a golden glint in the failing evening light. As he sped towards Ron, lying crumpled on the ground, he swooped down near the grass, one arm extended in front of him and easily scooped the Snitch up into his waiting fingers. Nott was at the absolute opposite end of the pitch. Harry slowed to a stop and jumped off his broom.

In the air over the pitch, the Gryffindors were yelling.

"Foul!" Jack roared. "Bad form!"

"You all right, mate?" Harry panted, rushing up to Ron.

"My arm..." Ron groaned.

"Ron!" Ginny shouted, dismounting and letting her broom fall as she ran up to kneel next to her brother. Above them, Crabbe and Goyle were snickering as the Slytherin chasers continued tossing the Quaffle through the goals.

"Time out!" Katie called, waving at Bletchley, who had left his position by the Slytherin goals. He shook his head.

"No ref, no fouls, no time outs," he said with a sneering grin.

"Doesn't matter," Harry said angrily, "the game's over." He held his fist up and showed them all the struggling Snitch.

"You cheated!" Nott squealed unhappily.

"How exactly did he cheat?" Katie demanded. "By being a better flier? By seeing the Snitch first?"

"Shut up Mudblood!" Bletchley shouted.

"Hey!" Andrew yelled landing a few feet away and running up to the group. "That's no way to speak to a lady!" He drew his wand and pointed it at Bletchley's face. "Take it back!"

"If that's a lady, then I'm a flobberworm," Bletchley replied pushing up the sleeves of his robe to reveal his wand strapped to his wrist.

"Woah," Harry said quickly stepping between the two. "It's over, alright!"

"Because you cheated!" Nott spat. "You released the Snitch -- you knew where it was the whole time! Nobody could catch it that quickly otherwise."

"How could he possibly--" Katie began.

"Nobody cheated," Ginny interjected. "You're just sore losers."

"Nobody asked you, weasel," Nott snarled, stepping towards Ginny.

Ron growled low in the back of his throat.

"Enough!" Harry shouted. "I should have known we couldn't have a fair game with you lot. We're done here."

Hermione and Dor came hurrying up to the group. Hermione dropped to her knees next to Ron and started gently prodding his shoulder. Ron winced and hissed through his gritted teeth.

"You've dislocated his shoulder," she said, her voice shaking slightly with anger. "You're lucky I don't dock you points before I march back up to the school right now and turn you in! That was an illegal foul and you did it deliberately." She glared at Crabbe, who looked confused and slightly worried. "But I'm feeling generous, so if you get out of here right now, I'll let it slide."

Bletchley narrowed his eyes at her. "Take your wounded and get off the battlefield, Potter," he said menacingly, "or his arm won't be the only thing on your team that's broken." He whistled sharply through his teeth and the Slytherins took off again, en mass.

"Let's get him to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said with a sigh.

"That's alright," Hermione said briskly. "I can fix it." She drew her wand and glanced up at Harry. "Hold him," she said firmly.

"Why?" Ron demanded, shrinking away from Hermione. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Harry asked hesitantly. "I'm not sure anyone should be fixing broken bones except for Madame Pomfrey..."

"I'm sure," she replied, taking off her cloak and laying it neatly on the ground. "And it's not broken, just dislocated."

Harry nodded at Andrew who came over and knelt by Ron's feet. Harry took hold of his right side, and Andrew sat on his legs so that he couldn't wiggle.

"I think I want to go to hospital!" Ron worried, his eyes large.

"Emmendo," Hermione said. A flash of blue flashing light erupted from the tip of her wand and Ron howled.

"There," she said matter-of-factly, gently touching Ron's shoulder as he whimpered pitifully. "That's done it. We'll get you a sling from the hospital wing on the way to dinner." Hermione smiled at him kindly and took his hand in both of hers. "They're having Shepard's Pie. Your favorite."

Ron sniffed, looking from Hermione to his shoulder as Harry and Andrew helped him get to his feet. "You should warn a bloke before you do something like that," he said petulantly, allowing her to lead him back towards the castle.

Harry glanced up at the green blurs flying around in the dusky darkness above them as he turned back to the rest of his team. "Let's call it a night," he said, jerking his head towards the changing rooms.

"But Harry," Ginny protested, "we were here first. It's our night to practice. They should just bugger off."

Harry shook his head. "It's not worth it." He glanced up again. "Besides," he added with a shrug, "they need the practice a lot more than we do."

Andrew guffawed loudly at that, slung an arm around Jack's shoulders, and the two of them sauntered off towards the changing rooms. Will and Katie fell into step behind them. Ginny gave the Slytherins one last menacing look before following.

Dor fell into step next to Harry, leaning heavily on his cane as he walked.

Harry paused with his hand on the door. Dor stood behind him, waiting expectantly. "You're not coming in here," Harry said firmly.

"Harry..." Dor began with a sigh, but Harry cut him off with a shake of his head.

"Team members only," he said firmly. "Male team members only, at that," he added under his breath. "So stand guard by the door if you want, but you're not coming in."

Dor frowned at him. "Alright, I'll wait out here," he replied, "but you should remember something: I'm not on your Quidditch team, Harry. I don't take orders from you."

Harry rolled his eyes and threw open the door to the changing rooms, leaving Dor alone outside in the dark.

Harry and Dor didn't speak much for the remainder of that evening, and Harry did his best to ignore him through breakfast the next morning, but as he stood to make his way to his Occlumency lesson, Dor stood to follow.

"How exactly are you planning to explain your presence to Professor Lindell?" Harry demanded hotly as they walked, Dor clomping along slowly beside him.

"I won't. I'll just wait for you outside."

Harry put on a look of mock surprise. "Are you sure? You don't think she's going to try to hex me or kidnap me or feed me to her potted plant?"

"I'm just trying to keep you safe, Harry."

Harry shoved his hands deep into his pockets, refusing to meet Dor's gaze. "So everyone's a suspect -- except Professor Lindell."

Dor shrugged. "She's a professor. Dumbledore wouldn't have taken her on if he wasn't sure of her loyalties."

Harry snorted. "Right," he said acerbically. "'Cause Dumbledore has such a good track record there, hiring Quirrel, who had Voldemort living in his head, and Moody, who wasn't really Moody, and --"

Dor stopped abruptly. "Don't do that," he said fiercely. "Dumbledore has made mistakes, but we all have, and if we can't trust him..." He trailed off and shook his head.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't trust him," Harry huffed, "I just don't think he's got the answers that everybody seems to think he does."

Dor stared at him. "You think you could do better?" he demanded.

Harry scowled. "I shouldn't have to. If he was really the great wizard everybody says he is, I wouldn't have to worry about all of this--" he threw his hands in the air.

"That isn't fair, Harry," Dor said, crossing his arms across his chest. "He's one of the greatest wizards that has ever lived, but he's still human." Dor looked at him seriously. "Besides, he's our best hope. I mean, I know that if anyone is going to be able to defeat Voldemort, it's him, so we have to give him all our support."

Harry scoffed. "You don't know anything," he mumbled and started marching up the corridor again as quickly as he could, angrily relishing the sound of Dor stomping along behind him, struggling to keep up.

He knocked at the door to Professor Lindell's office, then turned back to look at Dor, just rounding the corner. "I thought you were cool, Tonks," he said.

Dor stopped and stared at him, his mouth pursed in a frown. "Yeah?" he said. "I thought you were too, Harry."

Before Harry could answer, Professor Lindell opened the door, and he stormed inside.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," she said sarcastically, shutting the door behind him. "You look like you got up on the wrong side of the bed."

Harry frowned, slumping down into the leather wingback and rubbing his forehead as Lindell seated herself behind the desk.

"Want to tell me about it?" she asked briskly. Harry shook his head. "Good. I'll just find out for myself then, shall I? Legillimens."

Harry started slightly as he felt Professor Lindell reaching her way into his mind. Angrily he snapped his defenses into place, picturing his Centre, and clearing his mind of but a single thought: no.

"That's very good, Mr. Potter," Professor Lindell said after a few moments. "Very good. I'm very pleased with your progress." She set her wand on the desktop and began shuffling through her endless piles of papers. "Now. On to more pressing business." She found what she was looking for at last and passed it across the desk to Harry.

It was a small leather bound diary. Harry opened the cover and flipped through a few pages experimentally; they were all blank.

"What's this?" he asked curiously.

"That is your new dream diary," Professor Lindell replied. Harry made a face and she raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You're welcome."

"Oh, yeah, I mean, thank you," Harry replied quickly. "It's just, I don't think I'm really very good at dream diaries. Professor Trelawney asked us to keep them once, and I could never remember any to write down." He fingered the edge of the leather binding. "You're not going to make me try to interpret them, are you?"

Professor Lindell's other eyebrow arched. "Certainly not," she said primly. "Divination is not my field, and in any case, interpretation isn't the purpose of this exercise. But I wouldn't worry too much about being able to recall your dreams. The very process of writing down what you do remember will improve your recall dramatically."

Lindell shuffled a few more papers and found a smallish book with a simple blue cover across which the words Lucid Dreaming were embossed. "After our discussion about your nightmares," she continued, passing Harry the book, "I decided it would be prudent to begin teaching you a way to defend yourself in your dreams."

"Defend myself?" Harry repeated, glancing down at the book. "Is lucid dreaming like unconscious dueling or something?"

Professor Lindell gave him a tolerant look. "Lucid dreaming simply means that the dreamer is aware that he or she is dreaming. Once you become aware that you are in a dream, you can take control of what happens to you."

Harry ran his fingertip over the gold letters thoughtfully. "So, the next time I have a nightmare about Voldemort, I can take control of it and start hexing him?" he asked.

The corners of Professor Lindell's mouth quirked into her odd half smile. "Something like that," she agreed, amused. "But more importantly, being in control will allow you to practice your Occlumency in sleep so that he cannot influence your dreams in the first place."

Harry glanced up at her, his expression serious. "What do I do?"

When Harry emerged from Professor Lindell's office an hour later, he found Dor sitting in a doorway a little way down the corridor. Harry didn't speak to him as he passed, watching the other boy struggling to his feet from the corner of his eye.

They made their way down to the Great Hall in silence, Dor following Harry at a distance. Harry felt as though Dor's eyes were boring holes into the back of his head and his stomach squirmed guiltily as he listened to the uneven footfalls clomping along behind him. He was torn between wanting to apologize and wanting to demand an apology.

As they entered the Great Hall, Harry turned to say something, but Dor was already streaking past him, headed for the opposite side of the room. Harry frowned, watching Dor and taking a seat at Gryffindor table; Dor was headed up the Ravenclaw table towards Gwyn, Padma, and Luna.

"What is he doing?" Harry demanded aloud.

Hermione looked up from her books towards where Harry was indicating. "Talking," she said simply.

Harry scowled at her. "Yes, I can see that. Why is he talking to Gwyn, that's what I'd like to know?"

"Well," Ron said as he gave up trying to cut his meat with his one good arm, "what I want to know is why he's still here."

Harry turned to look where Ron was indicating and saw Malfoy entering the room.

"He wasn't expelled?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Hermione shook her head slowly as she pulled Ron's plate in front of her and proceeded to cut his lunch into small even pieces. "It seems not," she said glumly. "Though we know he's not on the Quidditch team anymore. And Professor McGonagall has called an emergency prefects' meeting this evening." She shrugged, passing Ron's plate back to him. "Maybe we can find out something then."

Harry glowered as he watched Malfoy head for his regular seat with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson. Unfortunately, the seat was already occupied by Nott. Malfoy didn't even say anything to them. He simply turned up his nose and headed for an empty stretch of table to sit by himself. Nott and the others began to laugh.

"Weasley!" Andrew called, sliding onto the bench next to Harry. "How's that arm? You going to be able to play tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Ron said slowly, patting his arm in the sling. "I'll be able to play. Madam Pomfrey just said I needed to rest it until the match. Hermione did a good job of fixing it." Hermione blushed slightly and turned back to her books.

Harry glanced back at the Ravenclaw table where Dor and Gwyn were talking animatedly. They both looked up and looked straight at him. Harry couldn't read Gwyn's expression. He frowned as they bowed their heads again in discussion.

"Well," Jack was saying, "Hufflepuff's been playing a stronger defense than Slytherin this year, but I think we can count on Will for a few sneak attacks."

"Yeah," Andrew laughed. "He's so ickle, the other teams don't even look at him twice -- until he scores."

"What are they talking about?" Harry grumbled under his breath.

"Why don't you go over there and ask?" Hermione suggested.

Harry frowned at her. "Because Gwyn doesn't want to talk to me," he sulked. "And frankly, I don't blame her. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone, and I ended up telling the whole school."

"You didn't tell," Ron countered, "Malfoy did."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right," he snorted. "That's so much better."

He chanced another glance over at the Ravenclaw table. "Uh-oh." Hermione and Ron turned around to look. Dor and Gwyn had got up and Dor was leading her over to the table. "What's he done now?" Harry grumbled.

"Ick," Andrew said distastefully. "She doesn't look happy. I think we'll leave you to it, mate."
"Yeah," Jack said, watching Gwyn warily. "We'll watch the fallout from a safe distance." He slapped Harry on the back as they headed up the table. "Good luck."

Hermione rolled her eyes at them. "You're overreacting. I'm sure she just wants to talk."

"You have met Gwyn, haven't you?" Harry asked morosely. "She's not much of one for the talking."

"Hi Harry," Dor said as he and Gwyn approached. Harry opened his mouth, but Dor cut him off. "I hope you don't mind, but I told Gwyn some of the stuff you were explaining to me last night. You know, about how sorry you were, how bad you were feeling, and how her happiness was really the most important thing to you right now."

Harry realized his mouth was still hanging open and snapped it shut quickly. He glanced at Gwyn who, surprisingly, was wearing a completely un-angry, wide-eyed expression. He looked back at Dor who was sitting down opposite him at the table.

"I know, I know," Dor said quickly as though Harry had been about to protest, "you didn't want me to tell her about it, but Harry, mate, you can't keep these feelings bottled up inside all the time. You've got to let them out."

"Did you really say all those things, Harry?" Gwyn asked, her tone guarded, but obviously optimistic. Harry swallowed audibly and glanced back at Dor who was giving him an encouraging grin.

"Er, yeah," he said at last. "Yeah, I suppose so. 'Course, I don't know exactly what he told you, but..."

Gwyn leaned across the table and kissed him on the forehead, effectively cutting off the flow of words from his brain to his mouth. "I've got to go to class," she said with a tiny smile, "but I'll see you for dinner, OK Harry?"

Harry grinned stupidly at her as she walked out of the Hall, turning back to smile and wave every few steps until she was out of sight.

Harry turned back to look at Dor who was digging heartily into his lunch. Dor caught him staring.

"What?" he asked around a mouthful of chips.

"Why did you do that?" Harry asked, feeling rather ashamed of the way he'd been acting.

Dor shrugged. "'Cos I knew you were too thick to do it yourself. Pass the ketchup, will you?"

Harry passed the ketchup and opened his mouth to speak again, but Dor beat him too it.

"So, are we cool, Harry?" he asked.

Harry nodded sincerely. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we're cool."

"Good!" Dor said briskly, gesturing at him with a chip. He grinned mischievously. "Can't say I never did anything for you, can you?"