Harry Potter and the Quidditch Island

The First Cut

When Harry woke up that morning the sun had barely risen. It might have been because he had slept for almost fifteen hours the other day, or because he was eager to make up for his abysmal practice, but Harry was wide-awake. As quietly as he could, Harry gathered his things and tip-toed out of the infirmary, not wanting to wake up the nurse who would probably just force him back into bed.

As he walked passed the cafeteria, Harry could hear clanging from behind the wall that hid the kitchen. Ron still hadn't sorted out his problems with the house-elves.

After dressing, Harry decided to wait for the others to wake up before heading down for breakfast. He took out one of Amy's books, Quidditch Heroes from Then and Now, and began to read. About thirty minutes later, Terry woke up.

"AH!" Terry had just shouted from his bed. Harry jumped and looked over at him. Terry fumbled with his glasses and sighed a great sigh of relief when he saw Harry.

"Sorry," he said, "they told me you weren't going to spend the night in the infirmary, and since Ron isn't here either, well, you kinda gave me a shock. I'll get dressed and we can go get breakfast." Harry chuckled and put the book away.

"Hey there Harry!" Harry almost fell down the stairs as Teddy gave him a great slap on the back as he and Terry headed for the cafeteria. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Um, fine, thanks," Harry replied. Teddy gave him a big smile and moved on down the stairs.

Since Teddy was a friendly guy, Harry didn't think anything of that, but he soon realized that many of the other boys were taking a leaf out of Teddy's book that morning. Harry received a lot of Hi's and How Are You's from people who, only a few days ago, had been furious at him because of Charlie's bad luck. He also noticed that, whenever anyone spoke to him, no matter how friendly they sounded, they always kept their distance, as though they were afraid they might catch something if they go too close to him.

"What's going on today?" Harry asked Terry as they sat down at a table.

"Well," Terry started, blushing slightly. He looked at Harry, then quickly back down at his pancakes.

"What?" Harry asked.

"They, they kinda feel sorry for you," Terry said quickly, now blushing furiously into his breakfast. "It's not your fault, I mean, I guess you couldn't help it..."

"They feel sorry for me because I bumped my head yesterday?" Harry said angrily. "Why? It was just a little fall."

"Maybe," Terry replied quietly, "but you didn't see yourself rolling down those bleachers, it was really scary. You were asleep until the group switch. Kitimer was calling you all out when all of a sudden you started screaming. We all thought you were joking at first, you know, like you didn't want to play, and we were laughing, but you just kept screaming and twitching and shaking back and forth, like you were having a seizure or something. And then you just kind of shot forward, like you were diving or something, and you were rolling down through the rows, and then, on edge of the last seat your head just kinda went smack!" Terry whacked his palm on the edge of the table. "And your legs came up over your head and you did like a weird somersault and landed flat on your back on the pitch. And you should've seen Swan run, he was like lightening, and all the other coaches followed him. It was really scary, we didn't know what to do, and we all just stood there. We thought you broke your neck or something."

Harry could feel his face burning red as he speared his sausage with his fork. He had had no clue that his fall had been so bad. And now everyone felt sorry for him, sorry for the little boy who just couldn't keep up in a man's game.

Terry ate his meal quickly, without saying another word. As soon as he was done, he told Harry that he was going to go back to the room to shower. It was obvious that he felt uncomfortable.

"Oy! Harry! Over here!" Hawk waved at him from the other side of the room where he was sitting with a large group of people. Harry tried to pretend that he hadn't heard, but Hawk was very persistent. Sighing, Harry walked over and stood beside him.

"Where's Cory?" Harry asked trying to sound casual.

"He's out warming up for practice," Hawk said bitterly. "Can you believe it? We've got like, half an hour still. He's a fanatic."

"How are you doing this morning?" J.P. asked with a smile as Harry sat down.

"Fine," he said shortly. "Look, you don't have to feel sorry for me, there's nothing wrong."

There was an uncomfortable silence that was broken by Hawk suddenly laughing.

"No worries! You've really got to teach me how to fall like that some time; I'd like to pull that one on the guys back home, see what they do."

"Hey, Harry, about the house-elves, I'm sorry I yelled at you," Charlie Chambers cut in. "It wasn't your fault, no one would stick those crazy things on themselves."

Harry smiled back and relaxed a little as the conversation continued, still feeling slightly uncomfortable that they all pitied him. Harry listened instead of talked as the trainees at the table compared the teams they had played on in the past. Just as Hawk was telling them about his brother, who was going to be captain of his school team when the term started, a loud explosion echoed from the kitchen. All heads turned towards the gap in the wall opening into the kitchen, which had thick black smoke pouring out of it. Harry could hear the screeching of many laughing house-elves and the angry yells from Ron.

"BREAZLEY!!!!" Harry heard Ron stop yelling and could see Swan's tall thin outline through the smoke, waving his arms madly.

"Man, I feel sorry for that guy," Charlie said, shaking his head. "He's running around like Swan's personal gopher."

"Why would Swan hire him if he can't do the job right," said Devon Wurstermann, a Chaser with dark red hair who had been on Harry's team during the exhibition games. "What's his name again? Robby? Roddy?"

"Ronny," Harry answered bitterly. "And taking care of rogue house-elves was not in the job description."

"Whatever," Devon replied, taking a bite of an apple. "I'm just glad it's him dealing with those elves, not me."

"I want to know what Swan's got against him," Harry said, watching with narrowed eyes as Swan swept out of the kitchen. Through the smoke he could see Ron sigh and begin scrubbing a countertop.

"I don't know, but I've heard a few things, you know, about his past, that might explain why he's so...angry all the time," said Jeremiah Stanton, a tall black Chaser who had been on Cory's team during the games. He was watching the door nervously as though afraid Swan might pop in. "He's got a bit of a shady past, you know? It wasn't all Quidditch games and winning championships. Why don't you tell them Hawk, you know the story better than I do."

Hawk leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles. Harry could see that he was enjoying being the centre of attention. After a few moments pause, he leaned forward and continued to talk in a voice barely more than a whisper. All heads leaned forwards to hear the whole story.

"Well, Stan Swan, he was a very famous guy, you know?" Hawk started, speaking with narrowed eyes. It reminded Harry much of the way someone would tell a ghost story around a campfire. "He was such a great Seeker, he was known around the world, and I'm willing to bet that every Quidditch fan in Britain would have killed for a chance to meet him. And, of course, when you're famous, people like to talk about you.

"Now at the beginning of Swan's career, he got nothing but praise from everyone. He was the new guy, the rookie, and he swept them all off the pitch. No pun intended," Hawk added with a wink. "He was really good, won a lot of championships he did. And it wasn't just that he was a winner, he won with style. He was an amazing flyer, did a lot of tricks that really got the crowds coming to see him. Good with the ladies too, at least that's what I hear. My mum used to be a big fan, said he was the strong and silent type." Hawk shuddered. "Not only that, he was a fighter for the little guy, even though, well, he isn't one. You see, Seekers are supposed to be small and sharp, you know? But Swan, who doesn't fit that description by a long shot, showed them all that anything is possible if you just set your mind to it.

"Then You-Know-Who came into power. People were getting scared, you know? Didn't know who to trust, people thought they were seeing spies everywhere. I was only about five years old, but I can still remember that my dad would come home from the Ministry every night looking flustered and tired, until he read the story they put in the paper about Quidditch, and then he'd lighten up and relax. Quidditch was very therapeutic for a lot of people. It was something that was still good and pure in a time that was so dark. Swan, among others, got very popular.

"But as You-Know-Who got stronger, even Quidditch couldn't help take people's minds off the troubles of the world. That's when something weird happened to Swan. He started missing games. It wasn't like him, he had been such an avid and devoted player, and to suddenly start playing hooky...it just didn't make sense. And the weirdest thing was that not even his manager seemed to know why he was missing out. Just kept saying there was a good reason for it. And that's when the rumours started flying.

"A few people attributed those missed games to stress. But some people, mainly the ones who supported Swan's opposing teams, began to suspect him of being a Death Eater." There was a stunned silence. "Yeah, I know, creepy isn't, staying all summer in a camp that could be run by a Death Eater," Hawk said dramatically. "But I don't really think it's true. A lot of the people who said these things didn't like him in the first place, and their only evidence was that there were 'some' attacks during 'some' of the games that he missed. However, most of those attacks ended in Aurors breaking them up, and sometimes even capturing Death Eaters. And seeing as Swan's face was internationally known, it would have been hard to miss him.

"But there were people who thought something else. A lot of wild rumours were going around about Swan actually being an Auror. I know, that's on the completely opposite end of the scale," he said, looking at the confused faces. "But a lot of people believed it. There were some people that said they actually saw him on duty. Some people, who had seen his home, mainly crazy fans that had actually broken in, said that they saw wild machines there, things that any Auror would want. Then again, they might just have been fans that wanted to convince everyone that their hero wasn't evil. But there was one guy, I can't remember his name but he was a reporter who got really famous for being there at a capture of a particularly vicious group of Death Eaters. Well, he didn't actually see Swan there, but he saw a very tall Auror, just like Swan, who was part of the capture. He wore a hood over his face so that he wouldn't be seen, but the reporter got him to talk a bit. Told the reporter about a second wand that he had, a hidden one, and the core was bone marrow, from a dragon."

"No way," Stanley Goatsmed, the sandy-blonde haired Beater. "You have to get the core of a wand from a living animal. I mean, it's risky enough to get a single heartstring from a Stupefied dragon, but how are you supposed to get anything from the inside of a dragon's bones while it's living? Think of the manpower it would take! And the dragon probably wouldn't survive--"

"Hey, I'm not saying it's true!" Hawk said quickly, waving his hands. "Maybe the reporter was just trying for a little fame. Does seem a bit odd that an Auror would give away such a strategic secret. But then again, if it really was Swan, being a famous sports idol, maybe he just couldn't help showing off to the press. Really makes you think."

There was a pause. Hawk smiled, leaning back again, allowing his story to sink in.

"Wouldn't the people in the Ministry know about Swan working for them?" Harry asked.

"If I was an Auror, fighting some of the most vicious, ruthless and dangerous wizards ever, I think I'd keep my identity secret too," Hawk answered wisely. "Trouble is, Swan didn't do a very good job making excuses for his odd behavior, and nobody really believed his stories. Maybe that's why he quit playing: to get out of the limelight. If he was an Auror, there would be a lot of people after him, and if he was a Death Eater there'd be even more people hunting him down."

"Maybe he just couldn't deal with all the stress," Jeremiah Stanton put in. "There were a lot of people that had to leave their jobs because they couldn't handle all that was happening around them. Don't forget about all of those reports you'd hear on the evening news, the ones that told you who had been killed or attacked that day. It was really hard on everyone. Hearing about all of the people who had their lives torn apart, and just hoping that you wouldn't be one of them-- it was hard on all of us."

A silence fell on their table that was only broken by the bell signaling the end of breakfast. Harry was very quiet as he retrieved his equipment and headed out for the day. Was Swan an Auror, a Death Eater, or just a guy under a lot of stress? That was a lot to think about.

Harry didn't think that he'd flown harder in his life. He was concentrating so hard on his flying that by the end of the practice he had a headache and all of his muscles were stiff. And it wasn't made any easier with the coaches and Swan all watching and taking notes, while at the same time the photographer was clicking madly. Unlike the other practices, this extended well after dinner, which was a very quiet meal. Finally, at around eleven o'clock, Wolverwick got up, walked to the center of the pitch and stood with his hands behind his back, waiting for the campers to join him. They were all red faced, sweating and looking determined.

"Gentlemen," he barked in his usual loud, army like voice, "that was a great improvement on what we saw at the beginning of last week. However, we don't have places for all of you on this team. The results of the first cut will be posted tomorrow after dinner. If your name is not on the list, we would ask you to please pack you bags and meet in the front hall, as you will have to leave the island." He turned on his heel and headed back to the coaches, who were all whispering to each other and looking back at the group.

There was a lot of grumbling after the tryout. There was a general agreement that Sunday after dinner was too long of a wait for the results, not after they had put so much effort into their flying. Harry especially was feeling upset over this, he wanted to see if he had been able to make up for the previous day's mishaps. Terry wasn't doing too well either. He was so exhausted that Teddy almost had to carry him up the stairs.

It took Harry a long time to fall asleep that night. All he could think about was the last practice. He didn't think he could have flown any better than he did, but would it be enough? Maybe he should have gotten an early start in the morning like Cory. But would that have helped, or would he just have tired him faster? And who might make it? What if he was the only one who didn't make it? Harry shook his head. There would definitely be more than one person leaving tomorrow night. But what would happen to Ron if Harry left? He doubted that Ron would be able to survive the summer alone with Swan.

Harry had been up so late worrying that he didn't wake up until about eleven in the morning when Pigwidgeon started hooting madly. Harry yawned and opened his eyes, but sat straight up when he saw Ron walking into the room. At that moment, Ron reminded Harry a lot of his father. His robes had collected a lot of dust from the basement, and he had great bags under his eyes.

"Hey Pig," Ron sighed to his owl as he threw his bags onto his bed and walked over to the cage. He fed Pigwidgeon and sat down on Terry's empty bed. He sighed again.

"You all right Ron?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, just tired," he replied. "It's really hard to sleep down there." He gave a little shudder. "Do you want to go down to lunch? I just came up to get you."

Harry nodded and got dressed. As he was opening the door, he stopped, noticing something strange.

"Um, Ron," he began, "you're face is bleeding." There was a long scratch on Ron's left cheek.

"Is it?" he replied, gingerly touching his face. He sighed. "It's sad, isn't it? I'm so used to fighting with those elves that I don't even realize when they hurt me."

As they ate their lunch, Harry told Ron about the rumours that he had heard from Hawk the other day. Ron said nothing and listened as he played absentmindedly with his tuna surprise. When Harry finished, Ron shook his head put his fork down.

"Typical of me to volunteer to work for one of the most dangerous wizards out there," Ron said. "Swan could've been a Death Eater, he's certainly evil enough."

"But would they give someone rumoured to be a Death Eater a job like this?" Harry asked skeptically.

"They gave one to Karkaroff," Ron said darkly. Igor Karkaroff had been the headmaster at Durmstrang, another magical school. He had been a Death Eater, but had turned on them once the Aurors had caught him. Karkaroff fled at the end of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts when Voldemort returned.

Harry paused for a minute. "Ron, do you remember when you found me sleeping in the Invisibility Cloak?" Ron nodded. "Well, I don't think I was sleepwalking." Harry then proceeded to tell Ron all that he could remember. It wasn't completely clear, but what he had heard Swan saying a few nights before had jogged his memory slightly. He could definitely remember hearing Dumbledore, Snape, and Sirius talking about protecting someone, and that he, Harry, wasn't safe anymore.

"If Swan was once an Auror, it would make sense that they would send me here," Harry finished. "Under constant protection of Swan. If that's the case..." he threw his cutlery down. "You know, I'm really sick of being kept in the dark about my own life."

"I don't know Harry," Ron said doubtfully. "You don't know Swan the way I do. He doesn't seem like the type to be fighting the Dark Arts. He's not like that."

Harry and Ron spent the rest of the day trying to keep Harry's mind off the first cut that was looming ahead. They spent some time in the games rooms, finding that Ron was just as good at pool as he was at chess (and Harry was just as bad at it) and they explored the edge of the island near the manor, but it was all rather pointless. Harry couldn't concentrate on anything, and what made it worse was that Ron was too tired to even pretend like he cared. In fact, Harry had a feeling that Ron didn't think he'd make it either, but it might just have been nerves.

When Harry sat down for dinner, he couldn't eat anything. And he wasn't alone; Cory had an expression on his face as if he would punch the next person who spoke to him, Terry looked as though he might vomit, and even Hawk looked nervous. He didn't have his usual cheeky grin on his face, and he seemed extremely fidgety.

"Hey Harry, do you suppose we'll get a refund on our money if we don't make it?" Terry asked. His voice was extremely hoarse. "My dad paid for it, remember? It's always been his dream to see me play, and, well, he had to work overtime to get me here...and a hundred Galleons is a lot to pay for only two weeks at a camp..." Terry trailed off. He was looking extremely nervous. Harry tried to give him a sympathetic smile, but he couldn't get his mouth to move that way. He shook his head and looked around at all of the nervous faces in the room. How many of them would be leaving after working so hard to make it here?

The minute all of the plates had been cleared, everyone in the cafeteria stood up. They were all trying to look as casual as possible as they rushed to the front hall. However, there was a moan of protest when there was no list up.

"Excuse me gentlemen," said Chilesworth indignantly. He had just walked in with a pair of witches. "This is not a lounging area. Please move on, there are other guests in the manor." He waved his hands at them and with many grumbles, the campers left. They didn't go far, however. Being one of the closest room to the front hall, everyone returned to the cafeteria. All talk was very hushed. Teddy sat down with them and gave Harry a wink and a smile. This time, Harry was able to smile back. At least Teddy remained positive.

"Hello mates," Hawk said quietly as he came over and sat down next to Terry. He looked, not so much nervous, but extremely alert. His eyes would dart back and forth whenever someone moved, and was constantly scratching his head and rubbing his hands through his hair.

"Mind I if sit here?" he continued. "I can't stay there anymore." He nodded his head in the direction of Cory and J.P. They were sitting alone at the table closest to the door, and they weren't saying anything. "Cory's freaking me out," Hawk explained. "I mean, J.P. is normally a pretty quiet guy, but not Cory. I think he's about to hit someone."

Harry smiled weakly, but all Terry could do was nod slightly.

"So how do you think you all did?" Hawk asked. "I was pretty confident until Kitimer told us that we only had two more days to show off. I mean, did he have to spring it on us at the last moment?" He shook his head. "Have you ever seen so many nervous faces? Even Cory's got himself in a knot. I keep telling him that if anyone's going to make it, it's him, but it doesn't help. And he's not nervous the way most people are, he's just angry."

Harry nodded and looked over at Cory. He still had his stone cold expression on his face and was staring intently out the door. Suddenly, Cory jumped up. After standing still for a few seconds, he bolted straight out of the door. There was a thunder of footsteps as the rest of the campers followed him out of the door, hoping for a glance at the newly posted results of the first cut.

Hawk, being more energetic than both Harry and Terry, was out the door much faster. Harry and Terry headed for the door as well, and Terry was almost trampled by the shoving crowd.

"Up you go there Terry," Teddy said with a chuckle as he lifted Terry back onto his feet and helped him out the door.

Harry, being one of the smallest people in the camp, was thrown to the back of the group as they pushed out of the door. When he finally got to the front hall, he was right at the back and couldn't hope to see over top of them. Sighing, Harry stepped back and watched as the others read the results.

"ALL RIGHT!" Harry turned his head as he saw Hawk grabbing Cory and J.P. and pulling them into a great bear hug. It looked like they had all made it, something that anyone could have predicted. He also saw Amy shove her way out of the center of the crowd with a big grin on her face. She waved at him before running off, most likely to share the good news with Ron. He saw Teddy give Terry a great slap on the back and Terry smiling widely, his glasses half off his face. Harry shook his head with a smile and walked back to the middle of the room. It seemed that most people were reading the list more than once. Then, out of the blue--

"Harry MOVE!!!" Harry turned around to see Hawk running towards him. Without a moment's warning, Hawk had tackled him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. They slid across the freshly polished floor before hitting the wall. Harry looked at him angrily, but before he could ask for an explanation he heard a thunderous crash: the giant golden chandelier that was usually floating near the ceiling had just fallen to the ground, making a giant crater in the wood floor.

"MY CHANDELIER!!" Redford Chilesworth had just run into the room. "My chandelier! AH! My floor! My beautiful floor, how did this happen?! Who did this?" He looked around, giving murderous looks at all of the campers, and then at Harry and Hawk who were on the floor. Swan too came in, his pale eyes blazing, followed by Ron, who's stunned look turned to disgust as he saw the floor that he would have to repair.

"What happened?" Swan said shortly. He did not say this loudly, but it seemed to echo in their ears.

"Harry was standing in the middle of the room, sir, waiting to see the list," Hawk said, rather courageously in Harry's opinion, "and then I looked over at him and I saw the chandelier falling, and so I pushed him out of the way." He smiled proudly but the smile quickly vanished.

"If that's true, then who was it that made the chandelier fall?" Swan turned to the group of students. They all stared back at him with blank looks on their faces. Swan looked around at them all, and then at the witches and wizards who were looking in on them from doorways and stairwells. He scowled; obviously it would be difficult to distinguish the truth from so many people. "Very well. If anyone remembers anything, I want them to come to me immediately. If I find out that any member of my camp caused this, you can be sure that serious actions will be taken."

"But sir!" Chilesworth protested. "I need to find out who did this!"

"Well Redford, if you would like to examine every single member of my camp, as well as all of these residents of yours, be my guest. I have better things to do with my time than examining the problems with your furniture." With that, he swept out of the room with Ron and Chilesworth at his heels.

Harry stared at the fallen chandelier speechlessly. He turned to Hawk.

"Whoa," Harry said finally.

Hawk grinned.

"Well, on the plus side, you made the cut."