Harry Potter and the Keys of Light

Chapter Eleven: "Quidditch Captain"

Harry awoke early the next morning, but did not get out of bed right away; he took a moment to enjoy the sounds of his housemates around him, and savored the thought that the castle was now full of students. Neville snored softly and Ron rolled over in the bed next to Harry's. Harry sighed and got up. He pulled on the plain blue tunic he used to work out in, leaving his robes hanging next to his bed. Quietly as he could, he left the room and went down the stairs to the Common Room. It was too early for anyone to be up, and the Common Room was deserted, and Harry did not meet anyone on his way through the halls to the Room of Requirement.

"Good morning, Mister Potter," the Professor said with his usual detachment. "I suppose that your mind is acceptably unoccupied in comparison to yesterday?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. What is it you want? Surely you aren't in need of tutoring two days before term even starts?"

"I wanted to ask your advice." The Professor gave him an appraising look.

"I will give it," he replied, "if I think the question is important."

"I was wondering," Harry said, repeating what he had rehearsed the night before, "if you would be willing to teach other students."

"No."

"Why?"

"Must I justify myself? I am your teacher, Harry, and no one else's." Harry stared at him, and Hermione's warning from the night before surfaced in his mind--what if the Professor was just training him for a fight with Voldemort? Unable to look at the Professor, Harry glanced at his shoes.

"But last time, you said that you would help me."

"I will show you whatever you wish to know Potter, within reason, of course. What you choose to do with that information, whether you show it to others or not, is up to you."

"Who are you, really?" he blurted out. He looked up, and, to his surprise, the Professor was smiling.

"I was wondering when you would ask." Harry waited for him to continue, and when he didn't, he said,

"Well?"

"I didn't say that I would tell you." Undeterred, Harry asked,

"Well, are real? An actual person, I mean?"

"Yes and no."

"Yes and no? What kind of answer is that?" Who was this guy? Harry thought.

"One that matches its question. When you have narrowed your inquiries to specific topics, then I will answer to whatever you ask. Until then, Mr. Potter, you are not ready." Harry seethed with anger, but made sure it was not outwardly visible.

"Does Dumbledore know about you?" he said coldly. There's your direct question, he thought irritably.

"And I am forced to reply similarly--yes and no."

"What good is that? You told me that you wanted honest answers from me. Why the sudden double standard?"

"I am being honest, if vague. When you ask the right question, you will receive the answers you seek. Now, if you would like, we may practice some with the swords. You need to expend your anger."

If anything, the morning's lesson had only increased Harry's anger. In his frustration, he had done poorly and suffered several wounds due to careless mistakes. He left the Room of Requirement in a terrible mood. It was only seven, and at least he could safely wander the halls, fuming, before having to deal with anyone. The morning after Feast everyone always slept in.

So, Harry stormed through the halls making his way down to the ground floor. The Great Hall was silent as he passed it, but a summer without students had Harry used to the quiet; he walked past without a single glance, and through the front doors.

The morning was clear, the air crisp with dew, each strand of grass glistening like so many emeralds planted in the ground, swaying in the light breeze. Harry wasn't really paying attention to where he was going, letting his feet travel where they would, but it did surprise him when he realized that he was standing outside the Quidditch pitch. He hadn't thought to bring his Firebolt, but went into the stadium anyway--there wouldn't be anyone on it for some time, and no one would think to come bother him there. He was almost satisfied then, with his unconscious choice of destination, until he actually climbed the wooden stair to the lower level seats.

The stands themselves were empty, as he had expected them to be, but above was a solitary figure flying patterns around the field. The silver and green robes would have been enough to alert Harry to who it was, but the pale blonde hair of Draco Malfoy stood out like a beacon. And yet, for some reason, Harry didn't turn directly away. Instead, he sat down in the stands and watched the Slytherin boy, who continued to fly; unaware that he now had an audience. Malfoy pulled a sharp turn near the far goal posts, flying directly upwards before spiraling off down the field. It was too bad they hadn't ever been friends, Harry found himself thinking, they understood Quidditch at the same level. A childish feud could have been forgiven, but not with what Malfoy was now--Death Eater-in-Training. The thought left a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach; to have full grown Death Eaters, without a trace of decency in them, was one thing. There was something wrong in imagining anyone Harry knew, that he went to school with, ending up like that--filled only with hate and greed. Tom Riddle went to Hogwarts, a voice in his head reminded him. A shiver found its way down Harry's spine, feeding the iciness that had taken hold of his stomach. He rose from his seat and left the stadium.

The castle looked quiet and peaceful in the distance, a silent monolith of stone, with its far-reaching turrets and towers. Harry was not ready to return, looking instead to the wild forest standing innocently behind Hagrid's cabin. For a moment, Harry almost expected to see the gamekeeper walk out behind the house, carrying something or other across the back garden to the paddock on the edge of the forest...but the cabin, too, was silent. So many things had changed over the summer, and Harry wondered how much more of that would continue. Would there be anything familiar about his world from now on?

Something moved; a leathery black snake was slithering across the grass before him. If he moved, he would surely startle it, and that would definitely not be good. So, on whatever impulse that had been driving him all morning, Harry spoke to it instead.

"Greetings." The adder stopped and looked at him.

"You speak?"

"Yes." The snake seemed to look him over, reaching her forked tongue in his direction.

"Are you a danger?"

"No," Harry replied. She took a moment before responding.

"Very well. Where is the Large one?" Harry wasn't sure exactly what she meant, until she added, "He is never near his den by the trees. Not for many days." Harry realized, then, she was talking about Hagrid.

"He is gone now."

"Forever?"

"Yes. He was killed by egg stealers." It sounded odd, translating Death Eaters to egg stealers; Harry guessed that to a female snake, an egg stealer was the closest evil she could understand. The adder seemed to know what he meant, however, and hissed angrily.

"The Large one was kind to all. It is unnatural." 'Unnatural' translated to 'unjust,' and Harry couldn't help but agree.

"The egg stealers are powerful."

"Good hunt, One that Speaks," the snake hissed, pleasantly enough, but apparently tired of conversation. She slithered away, Harry staring after her. It was the first time he had spoken in Parseltongue since second year--the sign of Salazar Slytherin and Lord Voldemort was not something he had ever been proud of having. And yet, it did not seem evil to have talked to the snake just now, sympathizing with her anger at the ones responsible for harming Hagrid...

The snake disappeared from view, and Harry resigned himself to the fact that it was time to return to the castle. He sighed and began the trek up the grassy slope.

"Talking to snakes now, Potter?" Harry turned sharply; he was caught off guard by Malfoy's sudden appearance, and the fact that he had been caught speaking with the adder. But a trained mask hid this, and he managed an indifferent look at the Slytherin.

"What do you care?"

"I was just going to congratulate you," Malfoy said, now a few feet below Harry. "For finally acquiring better friends. Snakes are far more respectable than those animals you usually hang around, Weasel and Granger." The anger that had slowly silenced itself since Harry had left the Professor resurfaced, bubbling dangerously. Harry could see that Malfoy was waiting for a response, for an excuse to continue or to get satisfaction from Harry's reaction, cold gray eyes watching him. With an extreme amount of self-control, Harry turned and kept walking up the hill. He was not going to start a fight with Malfoy on the first day of term; he needed to save his anger and his strength for more important things.

"Don't turn your back on me, Potter," Malfoy snarled, running up the hill ahead of Harry.

Harry wasn't even looking at him, staring decidedly at the grass, his hands in tight fists at his sides. And still, his voice did not falter as he said, "Malfoy, I don't want to do this. Could you please just let me by?"

"Perhaps I do want to do this, Potter. You don't have your little friends with you, or your lap dog Dumbledore to protect you out here." Harry tried to brush past, only to feel Malfoy grab onto his arm, pulling him around. "I told you not to turn your back on me, Potter," he hissed menacingly.

"What makes you think I care enough about you to fight?" Harry snapped, his anger finally getting the better of him. "I am so sorry if you were under the impression that I lived to argue with you Malfoy, but you are certainly not on my priority list."

"Watch yourself, Potter," Malfoy said, leaning close, his eyes narrowed dangerously, "because I am something you should worry about constantly."

"Really? Well, Malfoy, here's your big chance. I'm all alone. Make your move." Malfoy gave him a surprised look. Then, Harry saw a flicker of fear pass over his expression. "What are you waiting for? I'm going to die sooner or later, and if you want to speed the process up, I've got no objections." His voice was loud now, and the little thought that governed his anger warned him that he was reaching a dangerous point--if Malfoy pushed him any farther, Harry wasn't sure what he could do to the Slytherin boy. He was trained in many forms of defensive magic, and still didn't have great control over his sentient powers when he became angry. But Malfoy didn't move, continuing to stare at Harry in an odd way.

"Fine," he snapped, "Stop wasting my time, then." With that he turned back to the castle and clambered up the slope without a word from the boy behind him.

The look on his face must have reflected the fury churning inside him--a pair of Hufflepuff first years practically ran past him to the Great Hall after he looked at them. Harry didn't care--he couldn't believe he had actually thought that Malfoy might still have some decency hidden somewhere inside him. The blonde boy was nothing more than a selfish child, caught up in a petty grudge, and in the world Harry now lived in there was no room for that kind of stupidity. It was life or death, and there was no time to waste.

When he arrived at Gryffindor Tower, Harry found Hermione and Ginny sitting in the squashy armchairs by the fire, Crookshanks playing with a ball on the floor between them.

"Morning Harry," Ginny said, eyeing him as he entered through the portrait. "What's eating you?" Hermione looked around to him, worried.

"You look terrible."

"Gee, thanks," Harry said, sinking into a chair next to Ginny.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"It's just been a bad morning." Much to Harry's irritation, the two girls shared a look before returning to their conversation.

"Where's Ron?" Before either could answer him, however, a loud yawn announced the presence of the sixth Weasley child; he was stopped at the foot of the stair, his arms stretched over his head.

"Hi everyone," he said, joining them by the hearth. "Where were you this morning?"

"I went for a walk," Harry replied. Quickly wanting a change of subject, he said, "Want to play chess?"

"Dying to get your arse kicked, Potter?" Ron taunted, running back up to the dormitory to get his set.

They spent the rest of the morning pleasantly; Harry lost three games to Ron and then they played Exploding Snap, which both Ginny, and Neville--who had finally appeared--joined in. Hermione disappeared at some point, returning through the portrait hole carrying a plate of toast and several sheets of parchment.

"I picked up your schedules while I was in the Great Hall," she said, passing them around.

"I'm glad this is my last year of Divination," Ginny said, looking over hers.

"I think you'll really like the teacher though," Harry said.

"You think so?" This came from Neville, who was looking at Harry intently.

"Professor Tavisham is really nice," Harry replied firmly. Neville relaxed and looked at Ginny's schedule.

"What courses did you end up taking, Harry?" He handed his schedule to Ron, who compared it to his own.

"We're in most of the same classes, except Healing and Potions--no idea why you'd want to be in that class though... Urgh! Look, we have double Transfiguration Monday, then you have Potions and I have Muggle Studies and Herbology, and then Defense. Well, that last bit isn't too bad, but I'm glad I'm not you, mate," Ron said with a face, handing Harry back the schedule. "I mean, McGonagall is bad enough first thing in the morning, but to follow it with Snape? You're mad, you are."

"I'm in that Potions class, thank you very much," Hermione huffed. "It looks like we have the same free periods, though, Tuesday afternoon and Friday before lunch. That's good--we can spend the time studying together."

"Why would I want to spend my free period studying?" Ron moaned.

"Ron, if I were you I would be glad for the extra time," Hermione snapped. "With your marks, you should be studying extra hard for the N.E.W.T exams."

"Ouch, Hermione," Ginny said, wincing dramatically. Ron chose not to respond, acting as though he hadn't heard the last comment. Still, his ears were bright red at the tips.

"Since when do you have off periods, anyway?" he said.

"Since I got into classes I really wanted to take. I'm not going to waste time on anything else."

"Neville," Ginny said loudly, before the two started bickering again, "which Herbology classes are you taking again?" Ron and Hermione remained in a neutral silence for a good hour, but by the time they all left for lunch, the two were speaking normally again. Katie and Alicia came down the table to them, along with Lee Jordan and a Gryffindor Seventh year Harry thought was named Robert Fox.

"Have you set a date?" Katie demanded. Clueless as to what she was talking about, Harry simply shook his head. "We'll need to do it soon if we want enough practice."

"What is it we'll want to do soon?"

"Quidditch tryouts, of course," Alicia said, for Katie had simply looked shocked. "We'll have to pick our new Beaters, you know, since Kirke and Sloper both graduated. No great loss, though."

"I know I'll be there," Lee said, giving Katie a pointed look. If he expected her to respond, however, he was very disappointed.

"How can you not have thought of this?" she demanded. "What sort of captaining is this?"

"Captain?" Harry said, feeling suddenly nervous. "I'm not the captain--"

"Of course you are," Lee said. "You're our best player, after all."

"But I'm no good coaching," Harry protested; he already had enough to lead this year, why did he have to be the team captain? Not, of course that he didn't want the job, but he was too busy looking for the snitch during matches to worry about the rest of the team...but who else would do it? Then, it came to him.

"Ron. Ron would be a great captain!" They all turned to Ron, who froze, fork in mouth, cheeks stretched to their utmost with food.

"Ut do jus ay?"

"I think it's a great idea," Ginny said, smiling. "You spent half the summer planning for it anyway." Ron flushed pink, swallowing his food.

"It's official then," Alicia said with a smile, "Ron is the new team captain. So, when're try outs?"

"You know, I hope that Stephen Pool tries out," Ron said thoughtfully. He, Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Neville were sitting down by the lake. Katie and Alicia had gone off with Lee and Fox to post the notice after pressing Ron into making a decision. Try outs would on Saturday, open to second years and up. Ginny had thought this somewhat unfair, as Harry had been put on the team his first year, but Ron insisted that the younger students wouldn't be strong enough ("Seekers need to be small, so it wasn't a problem. Beaters have to be bulky, you know that Gin!")

"He's built like an ox."

"The Vincent Crabbe of Gryffindor House," Harry said. They all laughed at this.

"Speaking of Slytherins, though," Ron said, "Who'll be captain now that Montague's gone? They lost Warrington as well, and if they've any brains at all, they'll drop Crabbe and Goyle. I mean, sure, they're all muscle, but they're really thick."

"It'll be Malfoy," Harry said automatically. "Malfoy is in charge of everything in Slytherin."

"We'll have to prepare for dirty tricks, then," Ginny said. "Flint at least made it obvious if he was going to play mean and just take the penalties, but that prat will try to sneak things by." She said the word 'sneak' like it was something dirty; Harry smiled to himself.

"Can we talk about something besides Quidditch for once?" Hermione asked, looking up from her book. "We need to review our plans for Defense. Ron, have you come up with that schedule yet?"

"Hermione, you just gave that to me yesterday, I haven't had time--"

"Oh, I'll help you with it," she sighed. While she dug into her bag for a quill, Ron shot Harry a quick smile before moving closer to Hermione with a piece of parchment. Harry just shook his head in amusement, and watched the squid as it floated lazily along the surface of the lake. Most of the students were outside, enjoying the weekend before classes started. There was a group of Ravenclaws a few feet away, and some of the older Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were walking across the lawns or playing. Closer to the castle, Harry saw, a pair of professors were walking...

"Harry? What're you looking at?" Ginny asked.

"Professor Lupin and Professor Tavisham," he replied, nodding in their direction.

"That's so sweet," Ginny said, "I'm glad Moony found someone." She smiled wistfully. Harry looked back at the two professors and then let his gaze wander again. Students milled in and out of the castle, relaxing in the beautiful weather. A taller figure walked out of the castle, and Harry watched as students moved out of its way. Harry looked away, hoping that it was not who he thought it was...None of the others seemed to have noticed, but as he looked to them, Harry realized where he was sitting--under the same tree his father had once sat under, in his fifth year...

"Mister Potter, I see we've returned to our usual lax habits."

"Professor Snape," Harry said, standing. He was almost as tall as the Potions master, he realized, and for some reason, it made him all the more annoyed; how could that man have intimidated him at any time in his life? "Did you need something?" Harry could feel his friends watching him, could see Neville standing behind Ginny to his left, obviously nervous.

"There is something I would speak to you about, yes. If you would be so condescending as to accompany me back to the castle." Harry looked back at the others to reassure them and then followed Snape back up to the school. There was only one reason that Snape would want to see him in private; Dumbledore had even told him it would happen. Harry found himself completely unperturbed by the prospect of an Occlumency lesson with Snape.