Harry Potter and the Quidditch Island

The Game from Queerditch Marsh

Harry awoke when he heard a thump near his head. Ron had jumped down from his bunk and was dressing. Harry yawned and looked at his watch. It was 5 o'clock. Surely they couldn't be asked to wake up so early without prior notice.

"Ron," Harry yawned. "What are you doing?"

"Getting up," Ron answered shortly as he opened the window to let Hedwig and Pigwidgeon out. "Swan wants me to have breakfast ready by 8 o'clock. And I'm supposed to give you all a wake up call at 7:30. Then, once you're all eating, I'm supposed to have your rooms cleaned and prepared for when you get your break. Honestly, I don't see why he needs me doing all this, we have at least 50 house-elves." Ron stopped, realizing that Harry wasn't able to take in all of this information so early in the morning. "They will be briefing you at breakfast," Ron said loudly and clearly. "Be there at 8."

At 7:30, just as Ron had promised, a loud dinging could be heard echoed in his room as if someone was ringing a giant bell over his face. Harry opened his eyes again and got dressed. Yawning, he tried to straighten out his hair before trudging down to the dining hall with Terry at his side.

Being as tired as he was, Harry didn't realize it when he walked straight into someone. He looked up to see an annoyed Cory Rodricks glaring down at him.

"Watch yourself, little boy," he snarled.

"It's looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Harry turned and jumped. At first he thought the man behind him was a giant. After a moment, he realized he was just talking to a really tall 20 or so year old. He was the same man Terry had been eyeing warily when Harry had first seen him. This man must have been 7 feet tall, possibly taller than Swan, and was extremely muscular, however, behind his rather frightening exterior, he must have been a nice fellow because he was smiling merrily down at Harry and Cory. He reminded Harry of Hagrid, whose bark was far worse than his bite. Cory looked up at him, a little shocked.

"I'm fine," Cory replied bitterly, and he marched off down the stairs.

"Thanks," Harry said to the big man.

"No problem," he chortled. "I've seen enough people like him who enjoy picking on the little guy. My name's Harold Walker, by the way, but you can call me Teddy."

"Teddy?" Harry asked, astonished. "Why Teddy?"

"It's just a nickname I picked up while I was in grade school," he explained with a smile. Harry smiled back, a little confused, but glad nonetheless to have made a new friend, especially one as big as Teddy.

"I'm Harry," Harry answered. "And this is my roommate Terry."

Terry smiled sheepishly up at Teddy who grinned back.

"Harry and Terry, I guess you didn't plan that did you? Let's get to the dinning hall, I'm starving."

When Harry entered the hall, he was surprised to see steaming food on the tables. Ron was sitting in the center of the table closest to the entrance, his head resting in his hand. He was half asleep.

"Ron?" Harry tapped Ron on the shoulder as he sat down opposite him.

"What?" Ron blinked back into focus. He sat up straight, squinting as he looked around.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked. "What happened in the kitchen?"

"It was awful," Ron said dismally. "The elves were asleep. I don't know why but when I came down they were sleeping. And let me tell you, house-elves don't like being woken up." He sighed. "I've been here for two days and already these elves are draining my energy. They don't seem to want to let me run things. Have you ever heard of rebellious house-elves? And the worst is I just found out Mrs. Franklin's last day was yesterday! I'm probably going to end up letting the house-elves sleep while I cook for everyone." Ron sighed and closed his eyes and his head started to droop. Teddy had to grab the back of his robes to stop Ron from falling head first into his porridge.

Harry looked at all of the students. Most of them looked extremely drowsy. Looking across the room, Harry saw the big guy from the bus with his equally large friend. They were both drinking out of their thermoses again. Harry frowned, but quickly looked away when they both began to stare at him.

"What?" Ron asked. "Do I have something on my face?" He must have thought that Harry had been frowning at him.

"No, it's not you," Harry explained. "It's those two guys back there. They keep drinking out of thermoses."

Ron turned around.

"Hey, you're right!" He smacked his fist on the table. "And after all the work I did on this orange juice. Squeezed the oranges myself, I did. They're ingrates, that's what! Ingrates!!" Ron, obviously exhausted, was acting rather delusional. Teddy was staring at him, as were a few of the people around them who had heard Ron's cries of anger.

"Is this our assistant manager?" he asked Harry quietly, a worried look crossing his face.

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?" Ron snapped angrily, squinting up at Teddy, reminding Harry of a senile old man he had once seen outside of a pharmacy. Ron jumped when he saw how large Teddy was, and quickly turned his head back to his porridge.

"Ron, this is Teddy," Harry said, a little loudly. "I met him this morning."

"It's good to meet you," Teddy exclaimed. Ron looked back up at him and smiled awkwardly.

Just then, Stan Swan entered the dining hall accompanied by a short, skinny man. While he was balding, the little hair that he had was dark and greasy and was styled in a revolting sort of comb-over that had no chance of hiding his great head. Ron jumped and quickly pushed away the porridge that he had clearly not finished.

"I've got to go," he said quickly. "Swan's going to brief you all now and I'm supposed to tell the elves to get your rooms cleaned and to get started on the dishes the second you all leave. Then I have to supervise your tutorials this morning." With that he rushed out of the room. Harry looked at him with an astonished expression. He reminded Harry of Hermione in their third year at Hogwarts, when she had been taking every available class and had bitten off more than she could chew. He just hoped that Ron would be able to deal with it all without having a nervous breakdown.

Swan and the stranger walked up to the front of the room and waited for all of the boys to give them their attention. When the room was silent, Swan cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Good morning," he started. "Today, as you were told yesterday, is a day of tutorials. It will be one large seminar about the history of Quidditch. We will be covering the basics of the original game and a few famous names. While you will be learning many things today, I advise you to read as much as you can and gather as much information as possible after this seminar. It is always best to be prepared when starting something new. No matter how good you are there is always something to be learned. The manor library is full of resources that will be very beneficial to you." At this, Swan turned to the man next to him, who was so short he didn't even come up to Swan's shoulders. The man stepped forward.

"I am Redford Chilesworth, curator of Codelsbey Manor," he introduced himself. He spoke in a smooth quiet voice with a sort of hiss to it, making the man sound a lot like a snake. "Mr. Swan has asked me to tell you the rules of conduct to which you will abide throughout the entire summer." Redford Chilesworth appeared to be a very confident man who was set in his ways. He looked upon the people with narrowed eyes, as if challenging them to cross him.

"Rule number one," he began. "You may not leave the manor's grounds. A ten-foot tall fence surrounds the grounds, as a Muggle safety precaution, so saying you did not know will not be an excuse. The boundaries are clearly marked and you will have no reason to leave.

"Rule number two: the supplies room is off limits for security reasons. If you feel you have reason to enter, you must receive authorization from Mr. Swan, Mr. Breazley, or myself, however I do not see why you would. The only things in this room are extra brooms, Quaffles, Bludgers, Bludger clubs, and baskets of Snitches along with some other supplies used to clean and maintain the Quidditch pitch, so there is no reason that you should want to enter.

"Rule number three: I must remind you that you are not the only people in this manor. If you did not already know, the manor is used as an inn as well. You will remain orderly, and if there are any complaints about any of you from my other guests, there will be consequences. You are guests as well, and I advise that you remember that.

"Rule number four: you do not have a curfew at this camp," there were many happy faces and cheers in the dining hall as this was said, but Chilesworth continued talking: "however, the doors lock at 11:30 pm, so unless you want to spend your night outside, I advise you to return before then, as we only open them on specific occasions. I do not have a set time that you must be in bed, however I cannot speak for Mr. Swan. But, again, if any of my other guests complain about noises in the middle of the night, there will be consequences." When Mr. Chilesworth said consequences, Harry noticed that the hissing sound in his voice was even more prominent. The nasty glint in Chilesworth's eyes told Harry he didn't want to know what those consequences would be.

"Rule number five: there will be no fighting in my manor or on my grounds. You should do you best to remember this. You are on a team, and arguments will only make you weaker." At that, Swan glared down at all of them, the coldness of his eyes told them that he definitely would not tolerate weakness.

"Rule number six: you eat all of your meals in this cafeteria. There are other dining halls, but they are for hotel guests only. This is a room set up for the camp members alone. There are many rooms that are only for hotel guests, as there are many only for your group. Respect your boundaries.

"Rule number seven: Stay out of the basement. It is only a storage space. There is no reason for any of you to go down there. Finally, I ask you to treat everything in this manor as if it is your own. I will warn you that items like books and antiques are hexed to punish anyone who damages them. So watch yourself. That is all for now."

With that, Mr. Chilesworth stopped and turned to Swan.

"You've heard the manor rules," Swan began. "I agree whole heartedly with them and advise you to use your best judgment. You may now proceed to finish your breakfast. In thirty minutes I want you all in the Eleanor Beaglesworth room, which is off of the library, to begin today's seminar. Look for Volume fourty-eight of the World of Magic Encyclopedia. You may wish to bring a quill and parchment to take notes, though this is not required." However, the glint in his eyes and the way he said it told Harry that he would definitely want to take notes.

Harry turned back to his porridge. He suddenly felt extremely unprepared. In thirty minutes he was about to start a seminar. Sure, Harry had read Quidditch Through the Ages hundreds of times, but who knew what would be expected of him in a situation like this. Harry threw his spoon onto the table.

"What's wrong?" Teddy asked.

"I shouldn't be here," Harry said miserably. "I've only been flying for a little while. I barely know anything about Quidditch history. I've seen so many people reading books about Quidditch and I bet they know all sorts of stuff. All I can do is fly and capture the Snitch. I don't know anything about theory." Harry suddenly felt a lot like he had when he was first accepted at Hogwarts: surrounded by people who knew what they were doing and were much more advanced.

"You must be really good," Terry said. Harry looked at him, shocked. Terry blushed a little. "Well, if you've only been flying so long and they still wanted you then you must have a lot of talent. If all you're worried about is a little theory then, well, I envy you."

"I don't."

Harry looked up to see Cory glaring down at him.

"You think that a fifteen year old is one of the top thirty players in England?" he asked Terry, who looked away. "I bet they have other reasons for the famous Harry Potter to be at this camp. If you want my opinion," Harry didn't, but Cory obviously didn't care, "I think it's because he'll add more publicity when the Daily Prophet covers the games the starting line is going to play. You actually think you're a match for any of us Potter?" Cory laughed. Then he leaned over and stared Harry straight in the eye. "You might be famous Potter, but you better stay out of my way. There are some of us who aren't here as publicity stunts. There are some of us who actually have real talent. Don't ruin it for the rest of us." With that, he marched off.

"Don't listen to him, Harry," Teddy began glaring at Cory's back, but Harry was already leaving.

Harry rushed up to his room and flung open the door. Ron was lying on his bunk, massaging his temples.

"So that's why I'm here," Harry yelled angrily. "Cory's right, I'm a publicity stunt. They don't want me here to help England win games. They want me here so that they can get media attention. I'm more than just a stupid name, you know. I can fly just as well as any of the people here, but no one sees that. I just can't believe..."

"SHUT UP!"

Harry jumped as Ron yelled at him. Ron sat up and yawned, glaring down at Harry from the top bunk.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked. "Oh Harry!" Ron made his voice extremely high pitched. "You're such a good flyer! Don't listen to big bad Cory, he's just jealous of your amazing talents. Why you're a just a Quidditch child prodigy!" Ron snarled. "Harry, you know you can fly. Now Cory might be right, there's a chance you're here for publicity. If that's the case, then there are two things you could do. You could either sit and sulk and make you and the program look really bad in the media, or you work as hard as possible and give them a reason to make you a star." Ron checked his watch. "Great. We have five minutes to get to the seminar. Do you have any idea where it is?"

Harry stared at him, extremely stunned at the outburst. He shook his head.

"Swan said it was off of the library."

So the two set out towards the library. When they reached it, however, there was no adjoining room. The walls of the square room were simply rows upon rows of shelves, which were all full of books. The only exit was the door through which they had first entered.

"Are you sure Swan said it was here?" Ron asked.

"Positive," Harry replied. "He told us to look for the forty-eighth volume of some encyclopedia." Harry and Ron both set out to find it. It was on the middle shelf of a bookcase in the corner of the room, lying flat with the title page facing the ceiling.

"What are we supposed to do with it?" Harry asked.

"Can you tell us where the Eleanor Beaglesworth room is?" Ron asked it loudly. The book lay flat. Harry stared at him. "I'm just guessing," he said defensively.

"Maybe there's a key in it," Harry suggested, but even if there was, he didn't know where he would put it. They opened to book and found a table of contents.

"Well, if we're looking for the Eleanor Beaglesworth room, maybe we should open it to her page," Ron suggested, so Harry scanned through the numbers and opened the book to the page containing her name. Immediately, a trap door opened under their feet. Harry's arms flew up in surprise as both he and Ron fell onto a hidden slide. In the brief second that he looked upwards, Harry could see the book fluttering back onto the shelf. After a few twists and turns, Harry and Ron landed on a cushion with a dull thud. They found themselves in a large circular room. Torches on the walls illuminated it. After their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they saw that in the centre of the room was a large round table with a big red ruby situated right in the middle. Around the table was a ring of chairs, which were all full except for one, next to Teddy.

"Glad you joined us, gentlemen," a sharp voice said. They looked up to see the head coach, Glosford Wolverwick, standing directly opposite them, at the other side of the room. The rest of the coaches were in different positions around the room, standing at attention with their arms behind their backs. A short, middle-aged man was also there, standing next to Harvey Kitimer, holding a camera in his hands. Cory, who was sitting directly in front of the Wolverwick, snickered.

"I guess I'll be standing," Ron muttered to Harry, who took the seat next to Teddy.

Ron stood up and stayed next to the slide's exit.

"All right men," the coach said. "Sorry, and lady," he corrected himself, noticing Amy next to Hawk. "You were all selected because you are said to be the best flyers in England, but after your performances yesterday I find that hard to believe. Today we will be teaching you about the history of Quidditch. Be aware that this is not the full story, just the basics. However, you are to take in all of this information. The more you know about your sport, the better your judgment will be.

"Firstly, I must reassure myself that you all understand where Quidditch originated."

"It was at Queerditch Marsh, sir," Cory said loudly.

"Yes, indeed it was," Wolverwick replied with a nod. "However, it would be very wrong to say that Quidditch was the first game played on a broomstick. There were many ancient games played, and many of them had aspects that were carried onto Quidditch when it was created. Can anyone tell me any of these games?"

Harry felt a wave of relief pass over him. He knew a lot of these ancient games. They were all in Quidditch Through the Ages. However, it seemed that Cory had read this book as well.

"One of the oldest games would have to be the annual broom race in Sweden," Cory said. "Aingingein, which was popular in Ireland used the gallbladder of a goat that had to be thrown into a basket. Another popular game was Shuntbumps, which imitated the medieval Muggle game known as jousting except that it was played on broomsticks."

It looked like Cory had the book pretty much memorized. This was more than Harry could handle. He knew how to memorize pages too.

"Two more popular games were Stichstock and Swivenhodge," Harry called out.

Cory glared at him.

"Very good, gentlemen," Wolverwick said. "Cory Rodricks, I presume?" he asked Cory, who nodded in return, never taking his glaring eyes off of Harry. "And who are you boy?"

Harry brushed the hair out of his eyes so that he could return Cory's glare.

"Harry Potter."

A murmur went through the group seated around the table. Cory's face twisted angrily at this murmur. It didn't look like he appreciated being overshadowed by a name.

"You both seem well informed about ancient games," he said, "and each of those were very important in the development of Quidditch. Many of these games used inflated bladders as balls that were used to score goals much like our own Quaffles. There was even a Keeper of sorts in the game of Stichstock. But you missed a very important one, one that many historians believe was what inspired the invention of the Bludger." He looked at the crowd. "Does anyone know it?" Silence. "Anyone?"

"The game is Creaothceann." All heads turned to Ron. "It was a Scottish game that was popular in the middle ages. It consisted of players with cauldrons strapped to their heads. They charmed rocks that would hover in the air a hundred feet above the players, and when the game began, the rocks all fell. It was up to the players to catch as many rocks as possible. The game caused a lot of deaths and serious injuries, but it was still really popular and considered a test of manliness and strength. It was outlawed in 1762."

Wolverwick looked at Ron through narrowed eyes.

"And do you know why it was considered to be so important in the history of Quidditch?"

"Records of the game at Queerditch Marsh tell of a large Scottish man who came to play one day, and on that day two large rocks were flying around, trying to knock them all off of their brooms. People believe that those rocks were ancient forms of Bludgers that the Scottish man brought from the game Creaothceann."

Hawk began to clap his hands. "Good show!" But he stopped when saw the look on Wolverwick's face. Wolverwick turned to Ron.

"You're a Quidditch fan Mr. Breazley?"

Ron nodded.

"Well you will be sure to correct me if I slip up won't you?" Cory snickered, but Harry had a feeling that, even though he didn't show it, Wolverwick was happy to see someone with that much knowledge of his sport.

Wolverwick snapped his fingers, and the torches dimmed their light. The ruby in the middle of the table began to glow. Suddenly, pictures were projected out of it.

"These," Wolverwick began, "are the ancient broom games that were just mentioned. As you can see, Sweden's annual broom race was simply a race from point A to point B." The projection was now of a group of people on brooms, preparing to start the race. "However, this three hundred mile race is not as easy as it sounds. The course ran right through a dragon reserve. Now if you thought that your 50 km race through a mere storm was bad, I advise you all to stay away from this." The projection now showed the people on the brooms screaming in terror as they flew forwards. A few of the people were on fire. "This game didn't really have much of an impact on Quidditch though it did have an effect on the growing popularity of recreational broom sports, perhaps leading to the invention of Quidditch.

"The next game mentioned was Aingingein." The projection now showed a line of barrels on high posts. All except the last was burning. "In this game, players flew through the burning barrels, holding the gallbladder of a sheep. The first to throw it into the last barrel without catching fire was the winner. The theory of flying through obstacles to score a goal was passed on from this game to Quidditch, as our Chasers already know.

"Next mentioned was Shuntbumps, which, as Mr. Rodricks said, was simply another form of jousting in the air, where the last person on their broom won. The action of knocking people off of their brooms is basically the idea behind the Bludger though again this game didn't really have a particularly significant effect on Quidditch as we know it." This projection was rather strange, as one of the players that had been knocked off his broom was now hanging on with one hand while another was poking him with a stick, trying to make him fall. The wizard doing the poking suddenly fell off of his broom when another rammed him in the back. The game didn't seem very orderly.

"Mr. Potter had mentioned the German game Stichstock, which consists of one wizard who was tied by a ten foot rope to a pole with an inflated dragon bladder. It was this wizard's job to stop the rest of the players from puncturing the bladder, another game with a Keeper-like position. Swivenhodge also used a bladder, which was smacked back and forth using the broomsticks. Finally, as Mr. Breazley mention, there is the game of Creaothceann." The projection from the ruby now showed some wizards with cauldron's on their heads. Many of them were cross-eyed and more than one was flying on an angle.

Harry sighed. This was going to be a long lesson. The coach began to speak about the game at Queerditch Marsh that the witch Gerdie Keddle had witnessed and recorded in her journal. Wolverwick was a very thorough speaker, and his analysis of Quidditch history was long but nevertheless fascinating. It was when he began to discuss the evolution of the game, in particular the equipment, that Ron and Cory began arguing over the modern Quaffles.

"How can you think that Gripping Charms and the Pennifold Quaffle have been such great improvements to the game?" Ron asked angrily. Originally, the Quaffles were held using either hand straps or finger holds, however in 1875, charms were put onto the Quaffles so that they could be held with one hand without the use of either. The Pennifold Quaffle was created so that, if the Quaffle were dropped, it would fall slowly towards the ground so that a Chaser could catch it. "They've just made the game easier for the Chasers."

"It's not an easier game," Cory bellowed back. "The problems with the Quaffle slowed the game down. That's one of the reasons that it was painted red, so that it would be easily seen in the mud on the pitches. It's changes like that which have made the game more enjoyable and allow it to be run smoothly."

"But they were totally unnecessary," Ron countered. "If the Chasers didn't drop the ball in the first place then there wouldn't be a problem. It was just a shortcut made to keep the Chasers happy and to give them a break. If a modern day Chaser were to go up against an ancient one, they would be flown into the ground. Why should Chasers get such an easy way out? What if everyone complained about their positions? That would leave us with Bludgers made of cotton and Snitches the size of our heads."

Cory looked like he was about to burst, obviously not liking the fact that Ron had just accused Chasers of being lazy, but Wolverwick cut it.

"As stimulating this debate is, gentlemen, I must cut it short. It's lunch time."

He walked towards the slide and put his hands on the metal shaft. Immediately, he was rocketed upwards by an invisible force. The rest of the coaches went after him and the trainees followed their examples. Harry walked over to Ron, who seemed to be having a glaring contest with Cory, and pulled him towards the slide.

"Figures," Ron said bitterly. "He's just another lazy, no talent Chaser, totally caught up in how great he is. I'd love to show him..."

The rest of the day was uneventful. Wolverwick covered the rest of his material, making sure to keep all answers at a one-sentence length. However, this didn't stop Cory and Ron from showing their extensive knowledge of Quidditch. When dinnertime came around and the seminar was over, Harry was astonished by just how much there was to know about Quidditch and just how much Ron knew about it. He, Harry, had barely known any of this information, having only read a small number of books, whereas Ron was like a walking encyclopedia of Quidditch statistics.

Ron ate his dinner in silence. He was glaring across the room at the back of Cory's head. Harry watched him, trying not to laugh.

"Lighten up Ron," Harry said.

"I tell you Harry, you better show him up tomorrow."

"When?"

"During the exhibition games," Ron said. "Before you start any flight training, the coaches want to see what you can do. You have to beat him."

"And what if he's on my team?" Harry asked.

"Fly into him and say it was an accident."

"Wouldn't that just make me look stupid?"

"Well then just catch the Snitch as fast as you can!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "You know what I mean, as long as you show him that he's nothing special."

Swan walked into the room.

"I'm here to brief you all about tomorrow, so listen up," he barked. "I've heard good things about you from the coaches. It appears that you all know quite a bit about Quidditch. Now we're going to see just how good you really are. Tomorrow will be a day of exhibition games. You will be divided into 4 teams, though we will rotate Keeper positions as there are six of you. There will be six games played, and I want you to take them very seriously. Do your best and show us why you're here. The day after the exhibition games we will begin precision flying with Coach Kitimer once he has evaluated what you can do. That is all." The talking started again, and Swan turned to leave but stopped when he saw Ron.

"I heard you had quite a bit to say today, Breazley," Swan said, approaching Ron. "Seems you're quite the Quidditch encyclopedia." Ron smiled proudly, but this smile faded when he saw that Swan wasn't smiling back. "Let me remind you that you aren't a part of this team, Breazley," he said spitefully. "I sent you to supervise and maintain the order in that room, but as I hear it, you actually started an argument over the morality of Chasers. That is not acceptable. That was a seminar for the players and you've ruined it. They were there to learn from a professional, not hear what a juvenile has to say. As punishment, I want you to scrub that room until it shines. Be warned for next time." With that, he marched out. On the other side of the room, Harry could hear Cory laughing.

"I tell you that man has it in for me," Ron complained. "He didn't need me down there supervising, the coaches could do that by themselves while I did the chores that I'm going to have to do after dinner. And I hardly think I ruined the seminar for you. So now I have to clean that dusty old basement room, help cleaning in the kitchens, find some way to manage those house-elves, and help him with whatever problems he might have with you people." He sighed. "I don't think I'm going to get a minute of sleep this summer." With that, Ron left to clean the Eleanor Beaglesworth room.

"Poor guy." Harry looked up and saw that Amy Zampowick was sitting a few seats down the table. "I don't know why Mr. Swan said he ruined the seminar. I never even considered that the charms on Quaffles could be unnecessary shortcuts. His views are really intriguing." She looked at Harry. "Do you think he needs any help?" Before Harry could answer, she stood up and headed out in the same direction as Ron. Baffled, Harry watched her leave.

"Looks like Ron's going to have a good time talking about Quidditch all through the night doesn't it?" Terry said, snapping Harry back to his senses. But all Harry could do was gape at the exit, wondering whether he should feel more sorry for Ron or the over enthusiastic Amy.