Harry Potter and the Quidditch Island

All England Quidditch Team

"The All England what, excuse me?"

Harry didn't know how to feel about this. By the tone of Lockley's voice and Ron's choked breathing beside him, it sounded like something to be excited over. But he had no clue what Lockley was talking about.

"What is that, exactly?"

Lockley shook his head. "The things you don't know..." he said with a smile. Harry frowned. When he had first entered the wizarding world, there was a lot that he didn't know. But by now, he wasn't completely ignorant.

"The All England Quidditch Team," Lockley began, "is a team composed of wizards from all over England. Out of hundreds of applicants, we select just thirty players. We take amateurs from across the country to train and prepare them to play professional Quidditch. It's almost like a summer camp, but it's sponsored by some of the most famous Quidditch teams, mine included. You would be the youngest there, of course, but I've heard that you show great promise."

"Uh, excuse me," Hermione cut in, "But why would you want Harry training? He just graduated from his fifth year at Hogwarts. He's only been playing for five years. Wouldn't you want to fill that position with someone a little more experienced?"

Ron smacked her in the arm. It seemed obvious to him that this was a great honour. Lockley, on the other hand, laughed a hearty laugh.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Yes, Fudge warned me about you, always the inquisitive one. Well, my dear, when it comes to the world of professional Quidditch, there really isn't an age limit to talent. How old are you boy, fifteen? Well the youngest player to ever play in the professional leagues started at sixteen. We've heard all about Harry's flair as a Seeker, and let me tell you there are plenty of professional teams that would love to sign on someone so talented. Experience is one thing but natural talent, now that's a rare gift. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Hermione was still looking extremely skeptical, as was Harry at that. Somehow, he didn't think that Lockley really needed a rookie or that any Quidditch team would jump at the chance to sign him. This camp sounded very high class, training the best players from all over England to play professionally and Harry didn't think that he would be playing professionally any time soon, or that he was one of the best players in England. He stared at Lockley, trying to determine whether or not he was lying. Lockley stared back at him expectantly, waiting for a response.

"But why--"

"Miss Granger, your concern for Harry is noted, but I have papers signed by the Minister of Magic, Harry's guardians, and Professor Dumbledore himself saying that they give Harry permission to play as well as high regards on his Quidditch skills. I assure you that everything is in order. All we need is Harry's co-operation." He looked at Harry. "It really is a tremendous opportunity. What do you say son?"

Harry stared blankly at the red haired man. He began trying to picture Lockley asking the Dursleys' permission to let Harry play Quidditch over the summer. It was hard to imagine Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia talking to any wizard, let alone signing something for them. Harry's relatives were very much against anything magical and lived in fear that their relationship with Harry would become public.

"You talked to the Dursley's?" Harry asked incredulously. "How--"

"Can we have a moment?" Ron asked Lockley loudly, having regained his voice. The manager nodded and Ron pulled Harry off the railing and towards the back wall, with Hermione following close behind.

"Harry," he said in a hushed voice that barely hid how excited he was. "You have to do this, you just have to. It's an amazing offer. Programs like this are started so that they can find the next professional Quidditch players." Ron looked at him seriously, and Harry couldn't help notice the jealous glint in his eyes. "This is one of the best things that could happen for you, a once in a lifetime opportunity. I mean, I wish they were coming to ask me the go, but I'm telling you this as a friend, if you don't take this offer, well, you'd be extremely stupid to say the least."

"What do you think Hermione?" Harry asked her. He still wasn't entirely convinced. He'd heard the side of a Quidditch lover and someone who had lived in the magic world their whole life. It was time to hear the logical side of the situation.

She paused. She still had that skeptical look on her face.

"I don't know, I just don't know, it doesn't really adds up...I mean, there must be other people out there who deserve this spot just as much as you do...but I guess if he has Dumbledore, the Dursleys and Fudge backing him there really isn't any harm in it is there?" she said thoughtfully. She paused, looking him over, as if sizing him up against the world, then smiled. "Have fun, I suppose. But I really don't like his excuse for bringing you on the team. It all seems a little suspicious, so watch yourself, ok?" She reached out and gave him a hug. "I'll tell Hagrid where to send your birthday present."

Harry grinned. He was going to be training to play Quidditch all summer. What could be better than that? The only bad part would be that he would be doing it alone. His best friends would be away from him all summer and he'd be facing some serious challenges. His mind suddenly turned back to what he'd heard the night before. Had they said he'd be going somewhere alone? Didn't he remember hearing something about sending him somewhere he would be surrounded by wizards? Harry was starting to wonder whether it, as Ron believed, had been a dream at all. But the prospect of playing his favorite sport all summer was just too much to resist.

"Alright, Mr. Lockley," Harry said as he turned back to the manager, "you have a player."

"Excellent!" Lockley exclaimed, clapping his hands in front of him. "Now, if you will follow me, your carriage awaits." He chuckled to himself. Looking down at his watch he suddenly jumped. "Oh dear, this has taken too long. We're late. Excuse us, please. Rogers, take his trunk."

One of the two large escorts picked up Harry's trunk and the cage that held his snowy owl, Hedwig, while Harry hopped over the railing and waited to be led off by Lockley. He smiled and waved to Hermione and Ron, who was looking even more envious than before. Just as Lockley turned to leave, one of the bodyguards bent down and whispered in his ear.

"Oh, that's right," Lockley said, smacking himself on the heard and turning back to the others. "I'm also looking for a Mr. Breazley, have any of you met him? He's to take the part of assistant manager of the team and I was supposed to meet him, but I have no clue how I'll be finding him in this crowd. Have you seen him?" He looked at his watch then back at Ron and Hermione.

For a second, Ron's eyes lit up. Then a mischievous grin crossed his face. Immediately, he seemed to go from a normal wizard student to some sort of spokesperson with a large, Hollywood-like smile.

"Breazley, that's me," Ron said loudly, waving a hand in the air. "That's what I was just telling Harry here, he really needed to take this opportunity. Great chance, you know, a great program." He gave out a hearty laugh that was highly unlike his own, but stopped abruptly when he saw the astonished look on Hermione's face. "I'll see you at the end of the summer, do tell mum will you?" He flashed a large, cheeky smile, which he quickly turned to Lockley. "Shall we?"

Lockley looked suspiciously at Ron, then back at his watch. Finally, he waved his arm, beckoning Ron to follow him. "Come then lad, we've got places to go." Lockley nodded at the second large man, who picked up Ron's belongings and put them on the trolley with Harry's. Pigwidgeon began hooting happily, which seemed to annoy the large men greatly.

Lockley was steering Harry with one arm and checking his watch with the other. The two large men waited for Ron to run in front of them before they all marched towards the back of the platform, further and further away from the barrier that divided the wizard platform with the Muggle one.

Harry could just make out Hermione's shrill voice, though it sounded as if Molly Weasley had met up with her. Over the sounds of the crowd, he thought he heard Mrs. Weasley ushering Hermione away.

Harry was being pushed like he was another trolley full of luggage. Lockley seemed to be parting the crowd with Harry's body. He was being led towards the very back wall at the other end of the station; Lockley was moving Harry with such force that he was almost running to make pace. He suddenly realized that Lockley wasn't slowing down at all, and that he was about to crash into the wall. Bracing for the impact, he shut his eyes and screwed up his face. Nothing happened. Curiously, Harry opened his eyes and found himself in a dank alley outside. Lockley loosened his grip on Harry's shoulder. Stretching out his back, Harry looked around. The wall through which he just passed didn't stand out in any way. There was some graffiti, a few garbage bags and some litter on the ground, but it was highly unlikely that any Muggle would walk down this alley and pass through the barrier.

And yet, if any Muggle were to look down the alley at that moment they would see a very strange sight indeed. Two large men in cloaks, pushing a dolly with two trunks and two owls, one that was hooting ecstatically as if fluttered around its cage, a tall red headed boy who's ears were pink (only his close friends would know that this was how Ron reacted to lying) a man in orange robes and another boy, this one with messy black hair in glasses. It all seemed rather pointless that they be standing there.

Just as this thought passed through Harry's mind, Lockley raised his wand and flicked it through the air. Instantly, a roar echoed off the alley walls and a bus suddenly appeared in front of them. The large letters on the front spelled out the words Knight Bus. Lockley nodded to the two larger men and they picked up the trunks and started loading them under the bus, while Lockley walked up to the door and started talking to a man standing on the bus steps. Through the foggy window, the man looked old and hunched over. Lockley nodded curtly and stepped back to allow the man to walk out.

A very, very tall man stepped out of the bus, and Harry realized that the reason he had looked old was his height, for he would have had to bend over a significant amount to not hit his head on the edge of the doorframe. He must have been nearly seven feet tall, but looked taller because he was so thin. He had prominent cheekbones and his light brown hair, which was streaked with grey, and slicked back off his face. The man's robes were well pressed, matching with his flawlessly smooth hair. The only thing that made him look more of a wizard than a Muggle judge in robes was his piercing light blue eyes that seemed very alive compared to the rest of him, and very alert.

"So," he started after a long look at Harry and Ron. His voice was smooth and serious. "You are Harry Potter? I've heard a lot about your Quidditch skills, boy. However, you have only been playing for five years, and you've only been on a school team at that. What makes you think that you stand a match against my players?"

Harry paused. He didn't think that he stood much of a chance against any of the man's players. In fact, thinking about it now, he was starting to feel a little nervous. It was almost certain that these older, more experienced players would flatten him out on the pitch. Harry tried to look the tall man in the eyes, but practically crumbled under his gaze.

"Well, with all due respect, sir," Ron cut in, "Harry never said he was a match for anyone. He didn't volunteer for this position, in fact, he didn't know about it until a few minutes ago."

The man's head turned sharply towards Ron. "And who might you be?"

Though Ron was tall, he was nothing compared to this man. He was a good eight or so inches taller than Ron, though both were built rather the same, quite skinny with long arms and legs. The man's piercing blue eyes were looking down upon Ron as though he was some sort of bug that had crawled into his dinner party. Harry knew this expression all too well from his life spent at the Dursley's.

Ron paused. "I'm, uh, Ron--Ronny Breazley, sir. Your new assistant manager." He seemed to regain his confidence after this and gave the man the same corny smile that he had given Hermione back in the station and extended his hand courteously. The man didn't return the gesture.

"You are the assistant manager?" the man asked skeptically. "I find it hard to believe that I would be sent a mere child to assist me."

"Well, I, uh, I'm him," Ron stuttered, still trying to keep the faux smile plastered to his face. It was now Ron who reminded Harry of Ludo Bagman. It seemed that he was trying to keep a lighthearted expression to make up for the fact that he was trying to pass himself off as a completely different person. It was a good thing that the tall man didn't know Ron very well, because his ears were now bright red, a telltale sign that he was lying. The man continued to sneer at him. Finally, he said:

"Alright, Mr. Breazley, as much as I'd like to reassure myself that I have the right man, I'm on a tight schedule. So I will take you for now. But you will be pulling your share of the weight around here. If my team suffers at all from your lack of experience, there will be consequences." The man turned to Lockley. "Thank-you, Mr. Lockley for retrieving our last recruit. I will keep you updated on our progress. Come now gentlemen, on the bus."

As Harry entered the bus, he caught a glimpse of the look on Lockley's face. He was eyeing the man warily and it was obvious that he didn't approve of how he was handling the team. Before Harry could open his mouth to say goodbye to Lockley, the doors were closed and he and Ron were escorted to the last remaining beds left, the ones directly behind the driver.

This Knight Bus was different from the first he had been in. He remembered the fateful night when he had inflated his Aunt Marge in the kitchen and stormed out, almost getting hit by the bus as he passed. That bus had been a triple-decker, with large double beds that had brass headboards and windows with curtains behind them. However, this bus had only one floor, and the walls were lined with 15 single sized bunk beds with simple wooden headboards and frames, not unlike those you would see at a camp. The windows had no curtains.

"I guess we'll have to sleep here," Ron said, pointing the beds in front of them.

"Right you are Ronny," Harry replied with a grin.

Ron sneered at him.

Harry sat down on the bottom bunk while Ron pulled himself to the top bunk. Looking around, Harry could see that all the beds were full of boys. Well, perhaps 'boys' wasn't the best word as they were all at least 3 years older than him and were much bigger. However, he did see that the top bunk at the end of the hall held a girl with her nose buried in a book, sitting cross-legged. He stared at her for a while until the tall man stood up at the front of the bus and cleared his throat. Everyone went silent.

"Gentlemen," he started, "And lady," he corrected himself, seeing the girl at the back. "You have all been selected from applicants across England to play on our All England Quidditch Team. For that I salute you. However, there is no time to be celebrating. The next few months will be arduous, and some of you won't even make it past the first cut. I am Stan Swan, and I will be your new manager. A team of trainers has been hired to make you better than you have ever been. For those who do not make the first or second cut, you should still be proud to have been selected. For those of you who do, you might just end up playing in the Quidditch World Cup some day." He smiled at the passengers, though he didn't sound or look like he actually meant it. "I would also like to introduce my new assistant manager, Mr. Breazley." He waved a hand in Ron's direction without even looking at him.

"Hullo," Ron said sheepishly. The boys all around the bus were giving him cold stares.

"Now, if there are no questions," Swan didn't pause to check if there were, "I advise you to get some rest. We will be on the bus for at least two hours, traveling to the Isle of Mann. I hear a storm is approaching, so it would be best to have you all well rested and alert. We don't want any complications this early in training. That is all."

Swan walked to the back of the bus and slid open a door to a compartment just large enough for one bed and dresser.

Ron whistled. "Stan Swan." he said once the door had been shut. "I never would have guessed that he was a Quidditch player."

"What?" Harry asked. Ron leaned over the side of the bunk to talk.

"Stan Swan was one of the best Quidditch players in history," Ron started. Leave it to Ron to know all the useless Quidditch facts. "He was at Hogwarts when my parents were, though I think he was about two years older than them. He was the hero of the Ravenclaw team, he was. Won the Cup quite a few times for them. He went on to play Seeker for England. They say he might have been the best flyer they had. But his career started to die off around the time that You-Know-Who came to power. He missed a bunch of games and the team suffered because they had to use a sub. He quit about a year before You-Know-Who's downfall."

"He played Seeker?" Harry asked skeptically. There were four positions on a Quidditch team: Chaser, Beater, Keeper and Seeker. The Chasers tried to throw a red ball called a Quaffle into the 50-foot high goal posts that were guarded by the Keeper. Each goal was worth 10 points. Beaters carried around clubs that were used to smack speeding balls called Bludgers at the opposing team in attempts to knock them off their brooms. In the midst of all this, the Seeker was searching for a tiny golden ball called the Snitch. The game is only over when the Snitch is caught. The team that catches it receives 150 points, and is almost always the victor. Seekers had to be extremely fast and have sharp eyesight, and because of the need for speed, they were often the smallest players on the team. But this definitely was not the case with Stan Swan. Harry guessed that he was probably taller than Dumbledore, who was taller than average himself.

"It's true," Ron said knowledgeably. "He was great. It was a disappointment to a lot of fans when he retired."

"Why did he retire?" asked Harry.

"Well, I figure it was the stress of having You-Know-Who in power, but I wouldn't know. Anyways, Harry, I think you and I will have some extra practicing to do. Take a look at these guys. They must all be in their twenties! I'm betting that most of them have been playing at least twelve years, if not more. And look at the size of them!" Ron was referring to one man who had gotten up to use to bathroom. He was tall as well and looked like he weighed somewhere in the 200 lbs range.

Harry had seen him too. "They might be big," he said, "But the Slytherin team is big and look where it got them. Their size won't really help them if they want to go fast," Harry stated.

"Maybe," Ron started, "But what about Swan? He's got to be about a foot taller than me and he played Seeker."

Harry paused. "Yeah, but he's skinny. I wouldn't be surprised if he only weighed about 130 lbs. I mean, that guy who just went to the bathroom wouldn't make that good of a Seeker would he. And his size wouldn't really make him go any faster."

"You're right, of course," Ron said, "But I'd still watch myself. I don't think I'd want to cross that guy."

Harry chuckled.

"Oh, and Harry, you will be making those first two cuts won't you?" Ron asked.

Harry looked at him. "I'll do my best," he said. "But I can't promise anything. Why do you ask?"

"If you got cut, well, I don't want to be spending my entire summer here alone with these guys."

Harry laughed again. This wouldn't be too bad, as long as he had Ron on his side. But he wasn't sure if he'd be very prepared for what was coming. These guys were going to play hard, and he could remember the many dangers that he had seen at the Quidditch World Cup and all the accidents that had taken place. Some of that was bound to happen.

Harry was also starting to worry about Ron. What if the real Breazley showed up? That would be difficult to explain. And if he didn't, would Ron be able to pull off the charade throughout the whole summer? And what about Mrs. Weasley? Would she spend her entire summer worrying about the both of them?

Stop it, he told himself. You're worrying over nothing. You're here to have some fun over the holidays and learn a bit of Quidditch. Who cares if you get cut, it's a learning experience. Things will be fine.

But the cloudy sky outside the window was a rather ominous sight. And confused thoughts were now running through his mind. What had Snape, Sirius and Dumbledore been talking about? There was something about protecting him and his close friends. He wasn't safe with the Dursleys. Or was it that the Dursleys were the ones who weren't? And there was an enchantment put on the Weasleys house? He shook his head, nothing really seemed clear. It was rather mysterious that the train had broken down so frequently. He wasn't even sure if wizard trains could brake down. Why couldn't they just flick their wands and fix the engine?

He lay his head back down on the pillow. He had to get some rest. Training would start soon. He had to show them, to show Swan, that he could play just as well as any 20 year old.