Harry Potter and the Quidditch Island

The Man at the Station

"Harry! What are you doing?"

Harry slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the staircase. Ron was rushing down towards, looking livid. Harry yawned and put his head down, ready to go back to sleep, when he saw that his body wasn't there. He jumped up, realizing that he wasn't wearing the hood of his Invisibility Cloak. Ron must have woken up to find Harry's head floating on a chair.

"Get that cloak off!" Ron screeched frantically. "What were you doing sleeping here? I woke up early and found your bed empty, so I came down here, and what do I see? A head in an armchair! Do you know what would happen if they saw you like this? Everyone would be wanting to use that cloak, and then the teachers would find out and we wouldn't be able to sneak out anymore..." Ron paused, seeing the Firebolt lying on the ground. "What were you doing anyways?"

"I must have been sleepwalking," Harry said as he pulled off the cloak. "I though I was flying, but I can't remember much. But I think I heard Dumbledore talking with Sirius and Snape." He rubbed his stiff neck. "All I know is I have a throbbing headache."

"Sirius and Snape were talking? Without ripping each other's heads off?" Ron laughed. "Man, you must have been dreaming. Come on, let's pack, we still have about thirty minutes before everyone else will be up."

Harry nodded and followed Ron up to their dormitory, grateful that Ron had woken him up before the others saw his head floating in midair. But what had happened last night? Had it been a dream? He couldn't remember what the men had been saying, only that there was something wrong...was it with Harry? But he didn't think he'd ever been sleepwalking before. Harry's head began to throb more, and he decided not to think about it.

After packing their bags, Ron and Harry decided to go for a walk before heading to the Great Hall. Fred had told them that he had gotten lost on his way to Divination and had found a room with padded walls that was like a giant trampoline, but he hadn't been able to find it again.

"Don't you think Fred might be sending us on a wild goose chase?" Harry asked skeptically as he and Ron weaved through corridor after corridor.

"It came to mind," Ron said, "but it's not like we have anything better to do before breakfast."

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said. He felt a little chill as a cold breeze blew through an open window on his right.

"Harry! Ron! What are you doing?" Hermione Granger had come up behind them. "We should head to the Great Hall now, it's time for breakfast."

"I knew Fred was lying about that room," Ron muttered. "Last time I believe him."

"I suggest that you don't try to get him back this summer," Hermione advised.

"What, you don't think I'm up to it?" Ron asked defensively.

"It's not that, I just don't think it would be wise to try to bother him this summer, seeing as it's legal for him to use magic and it isn't for you."

Ron stopped dead in his tracks. His face was white.

"Ron?" Harry asked.

Ron began mouthing words silently, looking a lot like a fish.

"Fred and George," he gasped. "Using magic. And I can't." He looked frantically between Harry and Hermione. "They're going to eat me alive!"

Harry and Hermione laughed as they led Ron to the Great Hall.

On the Hogwarts Express, Ron and Hermione were arguing over why he couldn't stay at her house over the summer.

"Oh come on Hermione, I won't make a mess, and I won't bother you all. I just don't want to be near Fred and George this summer. They'll pulverize me! I'll probably grow extra legs out of my head! Do you want to come back to school next year and find me walking upside down?"

"Ron, I don't think my parents would like me having some strange wizard boy in my house all summer," Hermione said stubbornly.

"Wizard man," Ron snarled back at her. "Why? Think you might be having Vicky over this summer? I promise I won't get in your way."

Harry snickered as he continued to stare out the window at the castle, which was slowly pulling out of view.

Hermione was fuming.

"Just for that, there's no way that you are coming to my place. Why don't you just stay with Harry? It would be more appropriate, and I'm sure you'd have more fun."

"Are you kidding? You think the Dursleys would let a 'strange wizard boy' stay with them over the summer? They barely let Harry stay there," he said angrily as he waved his hand in Harry's direction. "And I don't think that I could deal with Dudley either. I wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't see me over that fat gut of his. He'd probably end up sitting on me!"

"Well I guess you will just have to deal with Fred and George on your own then," Hermione said stiffly.

"Fine," Ron said sulkily, slumping down into the chair with his arms crossed. "But you'll be sorry when I come back with an extra head growing out of my..."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped angrily at him before he could continue.

Ron sneered at her, before turning to Harry.

"What's wrong Harry?" he asked, "You haven't said a word since we got on the train"

"Huh?" He looked at them. "Oh, sorry, I just have some things on my mind."

"You aren't still hung up over that dream or whatever are you?" Ron asked.

"What dream?" Hermione piped in.

"Oh, Harry just woke up in his Invisibility Cloak in the common room. He must have been sleepwalking. I tell you, Harry, it had to be a dream. Sirius and Snape would never plan anything together. They'd have hexed each other before you could say 'rivalry'. I mean, sleepwalking isn't an uncommon thing, you know."

"What, you think the dream was real?" Hermione asked. "No, I don't think Sirius would come to the school without telling you. He'd want to see you wouldn't he? Ron's right, you were probably just sleepwalking. Besides, Sirius wouldn't risk something like coming up to a crowded school. Think of what would happen if someone saw him."

"Maybe," Harry replied, as he rested his head back in his palm and stared back at the castle. The castle?

"Guys," Harry started, "How long have we been on the train?"

"About 15 minutes," Hermione replied. "Why?"

"Well, we aren't usually able to see the castle after 15 minutes on the train right? I mean, we go much faster than that. But I can still see it."

"Hey, you're right," Ron said, standing up to look out the window. "Would you look at that, we're barely traveling at walking pace. What's going on?"

Just as he asked this, the train lurched to a stop. Ron was flung onto Hermione, who was thrown back against her chair, while Harry fell off his chair and onto his knees. The cages containing Ron and Harry's owls, Pigwidgeon and Hedwig were flung to the ground as was the basket containing Crookshanks, Hermione's cat. Hedwig began hooting angrily while Pigwidgeon chirped excitedly. He didn't seem to mind being upside down on the floor. Crookshanks, on the other hand, seemed to mind a lot, as angry hissing and scratching could be heard coming from his overturned basket.

"What was that?" Ron exclaimed as he scrambled to his feet.

"Ow, Ron, that's my hair!" Hermione shrieked as Ron used her head to push himself up. "You don't think we hit something do you?" She quickly set the two owls' cages right side up on the floor before helping Crookshanks out of his basket. The cat proceeded to sit on the chair next to Hermione, flapping its tail angrily and giving them all piercing stares.

"No, we couldn't hit something that hard," Harry replied as he pulled himself back onto his seat. "Maybe the front car of the train stopped and the rest of the cars just rammed into it. You know, like a set of dominoes."

"Why would it stop?" Hermione asked. "The last time it stopped was when the D..."

She trailed off, but Harry knew what she was going to say. Hermione had been referring the Dementors, evil, soul-sucking creatures who guard the wizard jail, Azkaban. They had come to guard the school when Sirius had broken out because it was believed that he had been after Harry. The Dementors had a terrible effect on everyone, but Harry had taken to them quite badly: fainting when he first came in contact with them. This was mainly attributed to his terrible past, as he could hear the screams of his dying parents whenever the creatures came near.

Both Ron and Hermione were eyeing Harry nervously. If there was a Dementor on the train, they knew that Harry could deal with it; Professor Lupin had taught him to conjure a Patronus, a concentration of happy thoughts that drove away Dementors. Still though, no one wanted to run into one, whether they could drive it away or not.

"Don't worry Harry," Hermione corrected herself quickly, "Why would they bring Dementors to the school? It's probably just a problem with the engine."

"A problem with the engine?" Ron asked her skeptically. "I don't think it's very likely that a magical engine would suddenly break down."

Ron would have continued, but Hermione gave him a serious glare and he stopped.

"It's ok, Hermione," Harry said. "I doubt that there's a Dementor on the train. But still, I do want to know what's going on. Don't worry!" he exclaimed, seeing their nervous faces. "I'm sure everything's fine!"

But this wasn't exactly true. Harry was reminded of the mysterious events of the night before. If Hermione and Ron were wrong, and in fact it wasn't a dream, Sirius would be in the area. Would the Dementors know this? Would they be looking for him now? Harry shuddered; it was best not to think about it.

As suddenly as it had stopped, the train started up again with an almighty lurch. This time, it was Harry and Ron who were thrown back into their seats and Hermione who was flung into Harry's lap. The train quickly began picking up speed and headed off.

After about 10 minutes, Harry began to feel hungry. He took his moneybag, as well as a few coins from both Hermione and Ron, and set out for the witch with the food cart.

"Hello, hon," the little witch said with a smile, "What can I get you today?"

After telling her what he wanted, she began to rummage through the cart, looking for the sweets.

"Uh, can I ask you something?" Harry asked.

She looked up from the cart and smiled.

"Well, um, do you know what happened a few minutes ago? Why did the train stop? The last time that happened, the Dementors boarded, and I was just wondering..."

"Aw, is wittle bitty Potter still scared of the big bad Dementors?" a drawling voice said from a few compartments ahead of him. Draco Malfoy's skinny blonde head was peering out from his compartment. Malfoy and Harry had been rivals ever since they first began school. Not only were they in totally opposite houses, but the Malfoys were known to be a family of dark wizards, and the Potters were almost completely different.

The little cart witch spun around and gave Malfoy a striking glare.

Malfoy snarled, but knew he had lost that battle. He knew better than to challenge Harry in front of a train employee.

"Don't worry dearie," she said, her usual cheery smile back again. "There are no Dementors on the train, but from what I've heard about how you handled them last time, it wouldn't matter anyway." She gave a little chuckle. "But really, I'm not sure what that was. I believe I heard the conductor talking about engine troubles, but that does seem a little far fetched now doesn't it?"

She laughed merrily and Harry smiled back.

"Well, if you do find out, can you tell my friends and I? We're just in that compartment down the hall."

She nodded with a smile and waved as he walked back to the compartment.

Harry entered to find that Ron had taken his seat next to the window across from Hermione. Harry sat down next to him, putting the sweets in the seat with Crookshanks. The cat looked up at Harry with an annoyed expression.

"The train's slowing down again," Ron informed Harry as he handed them each a Cauldron Cake. "It started slowing down just as you left. It's almost stopped now."

As he said this, the train stopped abruptly, throwing Ron into Hermione and Harry head first into the sweets. Crookshanks shrieked angrily and jumped up onto the back of the chair, swinging his tail back and forth.

"Yuck," Harry said as he wiped the remains of a Chocolate Frog off his face.

"You have something in your hair," Hermione said as she pulled a chunk of flattened candy out of his hair. He cringed as she yanked out a few strands with it.

"This is getting annoying," Ron complained. "We've been on the train about thirty minutes and we've barely lost sight of the castle. Something is seriously messed up."

Outside of the compartment, they heard rapid footsteps. The three of them got up to investigate just and the train lurched back into motion. They all fell back against the window. Crookshanks, however, had learned from his previous mistakes and had dug his claws so tightly into the upholstery that he hadn't moved. Harry, who was on top of the pile, was up first and got to the hall to see a short stubby man lying on the floor, his hat and glasses askew, his sandy hair ruffled. A taller, younger man was helping him up.

"You all right, sir?" he asked as he pulled the older man to his feet.

"I'm fine," he said, dusting himself off.

"Have you any idea what is going on sir?" the younger asked.

"Something is wrong with the engine," the elder sighed. "The fuel just seems to burn up so suddenly. I don't know where Dumbledore got this stuff, but I'm afraid that, at this rate, the engine will burn up all of our fuel and we'll be stranded. The engine must have some hex on it. No normal engine would use up fuel like this. We'll just have to keep inspecting it and hope we have enough gas to make it home."

The two continued to talk as they left the car, and Harry sat back down.

"A hex on the engine? To make it burn fuel faster?" Hermione asked. "If I were them I'd be checking the fuel."

"Why would someone hex the fuel?" Ron asked. "So that they could strand the Hogwarts Express? What good would that do?"

"If you wanted to kidnap someone," Harry suggested, saying the first thing that came to mind. "If I wanted to kidnap, say, Neville, I wouldn't be able to do it very safely at Hogwarts, and I doubt you would want to risk kidnapping someone at his home, or at Platform 9¾, so what better place than a stranded train? It would be risky, of course, with all the kids around to witness you, but a powerful wizard wouldn't have much to worry about if his greatest threat was a few kids."

Hermione and Ron were silent for a moment. Harry's suggestion seemed very possible, disturbingly possible.

"Yeah, but who would want to kidnap Neville?" Ron asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. The trio laughed.

Neville Longbottom was a clumsy, shy, and rather slow member of the Gryffindor house. While he was a good friend, he was definitely not the choice person to kidnap.

"Chocolate Frog?" Ron offered. They had barely scratched the surface of the large pile of candy when the train lurched into motion.

The time seemed to be ticking by slowly. After the last two stops and starts, Hermione had suggested they sit in the space between the chairs on the floor so that they wouldn't have anywhere to fall when the train lurched. She was sick of being smacked in the head by Ron, who was sitting opposite her when the train stopped, and Ron was becoming sick of being kicked in the kneecaps when the train started again as Hermione braced herself so she didn't fall forwards. Harry agreed after he had fallen off the chair and smacked his forehead on the corner of the seat.

Ron was massaging his kneecaps while Harry was rubbing the red spot on his forehead where he had hit the chair. Hermione was looking out the window at the slowing landscape as she propped the owls' cages up against the wall.

"Ugh," she grunted. "It's slowing down again."

Hermione sat down and they braced themselves and the train lurched to a stop.

"This is really getting annoying," Ron complained. "How late are we?"

"Well," Harry said, looking at his watch, "I'm guessing we're at least two hours late. At least."

"Honestly," Hermione said angrily. "I have better places to waste a day then on a train. If we stop again..."

Hermione jumped up and stared out the window.

"We're only about 20 minutes outside of London!" she said anxiously, staring intently out the window. "What happens if some Muggle stops by and decides to see what the problem is?"

The train lurched again and Hermione fell on the two boys.

"Don't worry Hermione," Ron grunted as she pulled herself up using the chairs as supports. "It looks like we're moving again."

It was true, the train was moving again, however it was moving very slowly. As it neared the station it began to stutter, and the Hogwarts Express just barely made it to the platform, where the engine let out a great sigh, and almost seemed to slump down into the rails.

Stuffing the rest of the sweets into their pockets, and collecting their pets, the group headed out onto the platform. It seemed unusually crowded. It was like they were attempting to swim against the current in an ocean of parents and relatives, all there to retrieve their children. Once they had retrieved their trunks, they needed to get a trolley.

"I don't want to get it!" Ron exclaimed. "They'll trample me."

Hermione sighed. "Rock, paper, scissors?" she suggested.

Much to Ron's disgust, he lost doubly to them. He looked at them both, took a deep breath and dove into the crowd.

"Where do you think all of these people are coming from?" Hermione asked. "There can't be this many students here. I don't remember the station ever being so crowded."

"I have no idea," Harry said, as a bossy looking old witch almost knocked him off balance. He scanned the platform. There were groups of students and parents, grandparents were milling about, and it seemed that there were some wizards who were just walking around for the fun of it.

"Are those ministry wizards?" Hermione asked.

They looked at a group of wizards that were passing by. The Ministry of Magic was the core of the magical world. They were basically the magic government: making the rules and enforcing the laws. As the magical world was a well-kept secret, there were many branches in the ministry. Ron's older brother Percy worked in the Department of International Magical Co-Operations and his father worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. But Harry couldn't remember ever seeing any representatives just walking around platform nine and three-quarters in uniform. What reason had they to be on the platform?

"It's a madhouse out there," Ron panted, suddenly appearing between an old wizard and his granddaughter. "Where are all these people coming from? I almost lost this thing twice!" he exclaimed, pointing to the trolley. "And I saw a bunch of photographers back there. I wonder what they are doing here."

"You didn't see Rita Skeeter did you?" Hermione asked seriously.

Rita Skeeter was a reporter they had met in their fourth year while she was covering the Triwizard Tournament. She was a bitter woman who tended to hold grudges, and she was also prone to bending the truth and breaking the rules. It was Hermione who had discovered that she was an unregistered Animagus, and used the truth as a threat to stop Rita from terrorizing Harry and others with her writing. If Rita Skeeter holds grudges against people, none would compare the one she held against Hermione. And with her ties in the press, it would be easy for Rita Skeeter to get her back.

Ron laughed. "No, Hermione, I didn't see her. But what I did see was an empty space at the back of the station where the trolleys are stored and there was a railing that we could stand on to watch for our parents. Now help me get these trunks on the trolley would ya?"

After lifting their trunks onto the trolley, which was extremely difficult with all the people pushing and shoving past them, they pushed their way through the crowd to the spot that Ron had suggested.

"There sure are a lot of ministry wizards walking around today," Ron said curiously, "I wonder what that's all about."

"Maybe it had something to do with the train," Hermione replied.

Once they had reached the railing, the three wizards hopped on it and look out over the sea of heads. Near the barrier that separated the wizard station with the Muggle world, Harry noticed that the photographers and reporters seemed to be making a commotion. He pointed this out to his friends, who both looked over at the purple smoke that was arising around the barrier. This smoke was common with wizard cameras, which took pictures that actually moved. However, Harry couldn't see who was coming. With all the people in the station, it was hard to distinguish whom they were taking pictures of. A man in orange robes could be seen pushing his way hurriedly through the crowd.

"Those robes certainly are bright," Hermione said as the man rushed through the crowd, and she was right: the orange almost seemed to glow. Two men in black robes with orange trim were walking behind him. They looked like the kind of robes you would see on wizards in pictures in Muggle houses around Halloween time. Harry thought that these two men looked a lot like massive bodyguards, following the man in orange robes around with narrowed eyes.

Next to him, Ron gasped. He began spluttering and breathing sharply, staring wide-eyed into the crowd.

"Ron?" Harry asked. "What is it?"

His voice was almost a whisper; Harry could barely make out what Ron was saying.

"Manager...he's manager...chudcanleyons...best flying manager..." Ron stuttered over the words he was trying to say.

"Snap out of it Ron," Hermione said sharply.

"That's the manager of the Chudley Cannons," Ron gasped.

"Oh, is that it?" Hermione scoffed. "So much fuss over a silly sports team. Honestly."

Ron stared at her, a look of disbelief and disgust crossing his face. He shook his head.

Harry, on the other hand, was watching the man in the orange robes. This was the man who led Ron's favorite Quidditch team. Harry was surprised that he hadn't recognized this sooner, as he must have read Flying With The Cannons almost fifty times already. The man was middle aged, probably a little older than Arthur Weasley, Ron's father, and had rather pale skin and red hair, however his hair wasn't nearly as bright as that of any of the Weasleys. It was more of a yellow sort of orange, matching well with his robes. He wasn't particularly tall; he had a round face and Harry could see a bit of a potbelly poking out under the loose robes. There was also a scar on his lip and two of his fingers looked extremely crooked, which gave Harry reason to believe that he too had played Quidditch and fallen victim to a Bludger attack. Though he seemed to be in a rush to find something, he still took the time to smile for the cameras and shake hands with some people. The merry glint in his eyes reminded Harry a lot of Ludo Bagman, the fun-loving head of the Magical Games and Sports Department in the Ministry, also a retired Quidditch player.

Harry didn't realize he had been staring at the man until the man started staring back.

"Mr. Potter?" the man called out. "Mr. Potter, is that you?"

Harry sat straight up on the rail. Why did the manager of the Chudley Cannons want to talk to him? He looked at Ron, who looked back just as shocked. Had the manager heard of Harry's skills as a Quidditch player? No, that couldn't be it. But why would he want to talk to Harry?

"Uh, yes, that's me," said the startled Harry. "Can, can I help you?" He could hear Ron's breathing next to him, sounding choked.

There were more white flashes and puffs of purple smoke as Harry's picture was being taken. The man moved up to him.

"Mr. Potter, as you probably already know, my name is Matameo Lockley, and I'm the manager of the Chudley Cannons. Mr. Potter, I was sent here to take you to the Isle of Mann for the summer."

"The Isle of Mann?" Harry repeated, holding his hand up to his eyes to block out the blinding camera flashes. "Why would I go there?"

"Mr. Potter," Lockley said seriously, "I am here to recruit you for the All England Quidditch Team."