Harry Potter and the Quidditch Island

The Taming of the Shrews

Though he climbed straight into bed as soon as he got to his room, Harry was awake most of the night. The little sleep he got was short and troubled, as his mind kept drifting back to the mysterious creature that was in the basement. Whatever it was probably wasn't dangerous, now that Harry had the time to think about it. Chilesworth seemed to know everything that went on in his manor, so it made sense that he would know about something living under the floors. It was a very confusing situation, and all that Harry knew was that he wasn't going to go back to the basement if he could help it, not for a million Galleons.

Harry woke for the seventh time at around six in the morning. Since Ron had already left to start the cooking, all he had to do was read the library books that he had borrowed and wait for Terry to wake up so they could go have breakfast. At around seven, sunlight began to fill the room, lighting everything and waking Terry.

"The storm's over," Terry remarked sleepily. He had a tired smile on his face.

As Terry got dressed and ready for the day, Harry walked over to the window and opened it, letting Hedwig and Pigwidgeon out. Both of them hooted gratefully; they hadn't been outside all week because of the terrible storm. Harry watched them soar out of the window and out of sight before turning his eyes on the sea, which was very calm. The sun was shinning on the water, reflecting brightly. It was warm, and a slight breeze was creating small waves on the sea. The sky was cloudless and birds were singing cheerfully in the trees. It was a beautiful day.

Even though it was early Sunday morning, Harry and Terry were not the only people in the cafeteria. Logan and Hawk were sitting at a table near the door. Logan waved at Harry to come over.

"Good morning," Harry smiled as he and Terry sat down with them.

"You can say that again," Hawk answered, grinning broadly. "I can't wait to get outside."

Harry introduced Terry to Logan. Logan greeted him in a friendly manner, but Terry just nodded with a small smile. Harry had noticed that Terry was very quiet when it came to meeting new people.

"So how're your practices going?" Harry asked Hawk, whom he hadn't spoken to over the past week. Hawk sighed as he took a bite out of an apple. His normally happy face looked troubled.

"Well the weather's been terrible," he answered. "I haven't been properly dry all week."

"How're you feeling about the second cut?" Logan asked. He, too, looked curious over Hawk's strain.

Hawk sighed again and stared thoughtfully at the door.

"I don't know," he said finally, "I'm just not sure what the coach is looking for. I don't like to brag..."

Harry stifled a laugh. Somehow he found that hard to believe.

"But no one out there has aim like me," Hawk continued. "I mean, that's really important when you're a Beater, you don't want to hit someone on your team. But there are these two guys, Braceb and Ogley? You probably don't know them but they're hard to miss. They're not as big as Teddy but they're still huge. They look like they're probably the oldest people here. Anyways, they have some mad strength behind them. It doesn't seem natural, they swing their clubs and its just like, WHAM!" he slammed his fist on the table so hard he knocked over Terry's glass of orange juice. "I feel sorry for all the people they've played against, their shots look like they'd go through metal." He sighed again. "I don't know, they might just get picked because of their strength. Then there's always that coach, I can't understand half of the things he tells me."

Harry thought back to the coach who had examined his Firebolt and decided that that was probably who Hawk was talking about. He was definitely hard to understand.

"But enough about me, how're your practices going?" Hawk asked, turning to Harry.

"Good," he replied shortly. He and Logan looked at each other warily. Neither wanted to discuss the competition to be Seeker around each other. Noticing this, Hawk quickly changed the subject, and they had a good time talking about the different drills that they had been performing over the week. Hawk was particularly resentful towards Harry and Logan.

"So while we were freezing and practically drowning in the air, you were inside playing games?" he asked indignantly. "Typical. Seekers have all the fun."

As soon as they had finished breakfast, Harry, Logan, Terry and Hawk headed to the front hall, wanting to take advantage of the beautiful weather outside. Hawk got himself stuck on the welcome mat that had caught Harry on his first day at the manor, and it was a full fifteen minutes before Hawk stopped yelling at the mat and allowed Terry to show him how to free himself.

They weren't the only people who were taking advantage of the fine day. Almost all of the campers were out outside in front of the manor, trying to decide what to do with themselves.

"Hello mates!" Hawk said loudly. He seemed to know everyone in the camp, as they all smiled and waved. Many of them walked over and joined him, wondering what they should do with the day.

There were six people missing from the group, Amy and Teddy, as well as Cory and J.P, who, Hawk said, were undoubtedly still practicing.

"Both of them are really serious about Quidditch," he explained. "They've got no lives, they're completely obsessed."

Braceb and Ogley were also not in attendance, which, Hawk pointed out, was not a loss.

"Why don't we play some Quidditch?" someone suggested.

"No way," said Hawk. "I've been playing Quidditch all week. I like it as much as the next guy, but too much is too much."

"Why don't we have a game of football then?" Stanley Goatsmed, the sandy blonde haired Beater suggested. This suggestion caused a lot of confusion, as most of the people at the camp were from wizarding families and didn't know what football was.

"It's a Muggle game," he explained patiently. "It's a lot less complicated than Quidditch and we won't bother worrying about different positions."

"How do you play?" Hawk asked curiously.

"Well, basically, we divide into two teams. I guess one team will have to have eight people and the other will have nine, it's no big deal. Anyways, there's one ball, and you're trying to get the ball into the other team's goal. Every goal has a Keeper guarding it, and they can use their entire body to block the goal. But the rest of the players can't use their hands. They can use their heads or their feet, but they can't touch it with their hands or it's a penalty. It's simple enough. You just kick the ball across the field."

Hawk seemed content enough with that game, and Stanley was soon running up to his bedroom to grab a football while the rest of the people were dividing themselves into teams.

"We can use the Keeper's field," suggested a boy with dreadlocks, who Harry assumed was one of the Keepers. "It's flat enough."

So, when Stanley came back with the white and black checkered ball (which fascinated a lot of the campers) they headed out towards the field that the Keepers had been practicing on. The boy with dreadlocks lead them to the back of he manor but, instead of taking the path that lead west, towards the pitch, he lead them south, along another path. As they kept walking, the trees thinned and Harry found himself on a big open field.

The further half of the grassy field was littered with goal posts, some higher than others, some so low Harry probably would have been able to grab them if he jumped high enough, but the dreadlocks boy was leading them to the closer half of the field. It had six fifty-foot high goal posts that were situated exactly as far apart from each other as they would on the Quidditch pitch. Stanley Goatsmed walked forward and took out his wand. With a flick of his wrist, there were two loud pops and instantaneously, two football goals appeared at opposite ends of the field, directly in front of the Quidditch goal posts. Many of the boys walked up to the closest goal, examining it with fascinated expressions on their faces.

The campers broke apart into their designated teams. Stanley joined Hawk and Harry, who were playing together. Terry stood next to Harry with a worried expression on his face. Harry was beginning to feel slightly worried too. Yes, he'd played football in gym class when he was in school with Dudley, but the bad memories of being picked last were coming back to him, and the size of the other boys was rather intimidating.

"Harry," Terry whispered, a note of panic in his voice. "I'm not very good at running."

"You should play defense then," Harry whispered back. "Stick near the goal, and try not to let anyone past you."

Terry nodded nervously and moved towards the goal, leaving Harry up front with Hawk and Stanley.

"We get first ball!" Stanley called out. Most of the boys just stared at him, not understanding what he was talking about. With a swift kick, Stanley sent the ball soaring in the air and the game had begun.

Harry started to run after the ball, his heart pounding in his chest as he strained to prove himself in front of the rest of the campers, but his worries proved to be for nothing. He had never seen a more chaotic game of football since he was about seven years old. None of the boys from wizarding families had any idea what they were doing, and simply followed the ball wherever it went. It was extremely funny to watch ten almost full-grown men running after a little black and white football. Harry was beginning to feel quite superior and proud of himself as he dodged past the opposing players.

Hawk was a fast learner, and he was soon able to keep up with Harry and Stanley as they passed the ball back and forth. It seemed that there were no Muggle born people on the other team, and they all just ran in a big group after the football. Hawk, Harry and Stanley amused themselves for a while by passing the ball back and forth between each other on the center line, watching as the seven other players ran together as a huddled mass back and forth after the little ball. Then, Stanley gave the football a great kick and it soared over the opposing team's heads and into the goal.

The goalkeeper from the other team, the boy with dreadlocks that had led them to the field, picked up the soccer ball with a disgruntled look on his face. Then, he ran forward, with the ball underneath his arm, heading straight for Harry's team's goal.

"What are you doing?" Stanley cried as he ran after him. This didn't help; instead, it enticed the dreadlocks boy to run faster. He bowled over Terry and threw it as hard as he could into the goal.

"You can't do that," Stanley called out as he ran over and took the ball from his goalie.

"Why not?" the boy with dreadlocks asked. "You said the goalkeeper can use his hands, so I did."

"Not to carry the ball up the field!" Stanley exclaimed as Harry burst out laughing. "You can use your hands to stop the ball from getting in the goal, and for throwing it back out after the other team scores, but not to carry it. The goalkeeper isn't allowed to bring the ball back up the field like that!"

The Keeper frowned at Stanley and muttered something about a stupid game, but returned to his goal and took his position.

They returned to their game, which significantly improved from there now that the players had a better understanding of how to play. The team Harry was facing stopped running in a big group and started passing back and forth. After about an hour and a half, everyone was sweating but extremely happy. Even Terry seemed to be having fun, though he had tripped over his own feet more than once trying to dribble the ball up the field. Harry was just running back to his end when he saw J.P. and Cory approaching the field. He turned back to the game; one of the opposing players had just taken a shot at his goal, but the goalkeeper had blocked it.

"What are you all doing?" Cory called from the sidelines once the play had stopped. Stanley whistled for a time out, while Hawk jogged over to meet his friends.

"Playing some football," he said happily, and he began to explain the rules. "Me, Harry and Stanley are kicking some ass." He gave Harry a grin and a wink.

"Oh really," Cory said, starting to smile. "Would you guys mind if J.P and I joined, maybe even the odds a little?" He grinned at Hawk.

"You think you could take us?" Hawk asked, with a grin, giving Cory a little shove.

"Better believe we can!" Cory laughed, shoving him back.

"Bring it rich boy!" Hawk jumped forward and grabbed him in a headlock and Cory shook him around before they broke apart, laughing.

"Come on J," Cory called as he got into position.

J.P. jogged over to the goalkeeper and started talking with him. The boy shrugged and moved out of the way, and J.P. took his place. He grinned at Harry, who smiled back politely, but turned back to the game with the same nervous feeling that he had had before they had started. Cory was grinning at Hawk; they were challenging each other to win. He glanced over at Harry, and his smile faded. Harry knew the game had just gotten a lot more competitive.

Stanley whistled again and the game was on. Harry began to relax and enjoy himself again. Cory was looking a little awkward, this being his first time playing football, and that made Harry feel a little better. Everyone was having fun playing the Muggle sport. Harry, with his confidence back and a new determination to win, started playing more vigorously. He, Stanley and Hawk began running faster and kicking harder. Then, right as he prepared to pass to Stanley, who was standing next to the goal, he was bowled over by Cory, who stole the ball from him.

"Come on Harry, get up!" he heard Stanley yell as he ran past. Angrily, Harry pulled himself to his feet and ran back to his end just in time to see Cory score.

The opposing team had a definite edge now that they'd picked up Cory and J.P. Not only was Cory a strong kicker and a fast runner, but the skills that J.P. had picked up playing Keeper on the Quidditch pitch made him an excellent goalkeeper. After more than an hour of play, Hawk called a time out. Harry jogged over to him, wondering what was up.

Hawk was sweating and looking a lot more determined than he had earlier.

"All right guys, we're falling behind," he said.

"What are you talking about, we're up by two goals!" said Devon Wurstermann, the red haired Chaser. Hawk shook his head at the remark.

"We should be up by more. I want to really beat Cory, really drive him into the ground. He's always on the winning team and I want to bring him down." Harry secretly agreed. "So let's pick up the pace, shall we?"

"We're catching up to you, Nackoronty," Cory laughed from the other end of the field.

"You wish Rodricks," Hawk yelled back.

The game started again, and Harry had a new resolve to win. More than once he was able to steal the ball away from the other team, receiving nasty scowls from Cory every time he did. Then, his big chance came. Cory had the ball and was yelling at his teammates, telling them where to go. While he was distracted, Harry ran up to him and kicked the ball out from underneath him. Hearing Cory shouting behind him, Harry picked up speed and ran as quickly as he could towards the goal. J.P was on his toes, getting ready to block his kick when suddenly...

Harry felt something hit him hard in the back and he found himself doing a face plant into the grass, choking on a mouthful of dirt. He rolled over on his back and saw Cory standing over him, silhouetted against the sun.

"Sorry, Potter, must have slipped," he said, smiling serenely.

"You did not," Harry said as he spat the dirt out of his mouth. He stood up to face Cory, who wasn't smiling anymore.

"You calling me a liar Potter," he growled, leaning in so that he and Harry were almost nose-to-nose. Hawk jogged up behind Cory, looking nervous. The game had stopped.

"Sounds that way, doesn't it?" Harry said back, trying to keep his voice calm so that he would sound a lot braver than he felt.

"Hey guys, it's just a game," Hawk said, trying to laugh it off, but the look of loathing on Cory's face didn't change. He continued to stare Harry straight in the eye.

"Didn't you hear that, Hawk?" Cory said to him, without taking his eyes off Harry. "Potter here called me a liar. Now why'd ya do that Potter?" He gave Harry a small shove.

"Maybe because you lied to me," Harry replied, shoving him back. At that, Cory lost control.

"You little punk!" he yelled and he ran forward, tackling Harry to the ground.

What happened next, Harry really couldn't tell. He felt Cory's fist make contact with his eye, breaking his glasses. He began to swing back, trying to get Cory off him and he hit something that felt a lot like a mouth.

"Get off him Cory!" Harry heard Hawk yelling and suddenly Cory's weight was off of him. He stood up just in time to see Cory run at him again. Without thinking he began to hit him as hard as he could. He felt Cory's fist connect with his ribs at the same time that his foot kick Cory's knee. He could hear shouts from Hawk and some of the other campers, and then he felt hands grab him from underneath the arms, pulling him off of Cory. J.P. pulled him away and wrapped his arms around Harry's stomach, trying to hold him back. It took Harry a moment before he realized that he was fighting against J.P.

Hawk had wrapped his arms around Cory in the same fashion that J.P. had, but he was having a harder time. Even though Hawk was a good three inches taller than Cory, Cory seemed determined to get at Harry and was fighting back with all his might.

"WHAT is going on here?!" Harry turned his head to see Swan stalking over to them with a furious look on his face. Cory had stopped fighting as well, and had gone two shades whiter.

"Come with me, both of you," Swan hissed. Cory spat blood onto the ground before storming back towards the manor. Swan glared down at Harry, waiting for him to go first. Harry wiped the blood from his nose, which was beginning to hurt a lot, and followed Cory towards the manor.

Once they got inside, Swan led them to the cafeteria and motioned for them to sit down across from him at one of the tables. They did so, but both made sure that they were as far apart from each other as Swan would allow. Harry stared at the table angrily, not wanting to look up at Swan. Blood dripped from his nose onto the wood. He mopped it up quickly with the sleeve of his robes.

"Who started it?" Swan said finally. His voice wasn't loud but the tone of it was almost like he yelled at them. Neither Harry nor Cory answered so Swan continued. "Do you remember what Mr. Chilesworth's fifth rule was?"

Harry looked up at Swan blankly. He had no idea what the rule was. He braved a quick glance at Cory and by the look on his face Cory didn't either.

"The rule was," Swan continued, "that there was to be no fighting on his grounds. It disappoints me that any member of my camp would be so uncivilized that they would begin to fight over a simple game of, what did you call it? Football? If you ever play professionally, fighting on the pitch will not be permitted. But that is not the only reason that I am so upset. You actions are jeopardizing the team."

He looked at Cory and Harry with an expression as though their actions were a personal insult.

"There are people who would give their right arms to be at this camp, to have this opportunity," he said after a dramatic pause. "It is a privilege to be here and you two are treating it as though this is some sort of summer camp for you to have a good time. Every person at this camp, including the two of you, is very talented. However, if there is any doubt in my mind that two people will not be able to handle working together and may not be able to keep their heads on straight if something does not go their way, then I will be forced to keep them off my team."

He paused again, to let this sink in. Harry glanced over at Cory again. The anger was gone from his face and he looked nervous.

"Go wash up, both of you," Swan barked. "Lunch will be served in half an hour."

He remained seated as Harry and Cory both rose and headed for their rooms. Cory said nothing as he pushed passed Harry and marched up the stairs.

Once in his room, Harry looked into the bathroom mirror. His nose wasn't as sore anymore, but it was becoming purple and there was still blood dripping from it. His glasses were cracked and his eye was beginning to swell up. One of the bewitched bathtubs waddled over to him and nudged his leg gently. He bent down and patted its cold metal taps before running the water in the sink and dunking his head in.

"Harry, you in here?" Terry was calling from the bedroom. Harry wiped his face on a towel and walked over to meet Terry.

"Yeah, I'm here." He flopped down onto his bed. Terry opened his trunk and began rummaging through it. He emerged a few moments later with a large red bottle.

"Give me your glasses," he said, handing the bottle to Harry, "and rub this stuff on your nose and your eye, and wherever else you might be bruised. It'll stop the swelling."

Harry squeezed the bright red cream into his hand and rubbed it on his face as Terry muttered 'Reparo' and fixed Harry's glasses. Harry reached down his shirt and rubbed the cream onto his ribs and back, where Cory had pummeled him.

Harry and Terry didn't talk much as they went downstairs for lunch. Harry made sure to sit as far away from Cory as possible.

"Hey there," Teddy said as he sat down next to Terry. "Geeze, what happened to you Harry?"

Terry began to explain to him what happened while Harry stared into his macaroni and cheese. He kept his head down, trying to avoid the eyes of the other campers. When Terry was done, Teddy was looking at Harry with an expression of shock on his face.

"Why would you fight with him?" Teddy asked.

"Well it was either that or letting him pound me into the ground," Harry retorted. He sighed. "Sorry. I'm gonna go back upstairs." With that he stood up and climbed the stairs back to his room.

Harry's first thought was to write to Sirius. He hadn't spoken to anyone outside of the camp for weeks and was beginning to feel isolated. Ron was always busy working, so he hadn't had anyone to confide in. But then Harry remembered the last reply that he had gotten from Sirius, the one that had skillfully dodged all of his important questions and told him to do exactly what Sirius always told him not to do: to relax and not to worry. No, Sirius wasn't going to be much of a comfort at that time. And he didn't really feel like telling Hermione everything that he was worrying about. Hermione was one of his best friends, and she meant a lot to him, but she was never much of a comfort in this type of a situation. Plus, Swan didn't want a lot of outgoing mail, so there was no point in wasting a letter. Without Ron to talk to, Harry felt very alone.

He lay down on his bed and stared up at the bottom of Ron's bunk, brooding over what had happened. A few minutes later he heard Terry and Teddy coming upstairs. Quickly, he rolled over so that he was facing the wall.

"Hey Harry we're going to go outside, explore the forest a bit," Teddy started, but stopped.

"I think he's sleeping," Terry whispered. "Let's go."

Harry waited until he had heard them shut the door before rolling back over. He didn't really feel like going back outside with the rest of the people. He looked over as Hedwig flew through the open window and landed on the bedside table.

"Hi," Harry said as he sat up and stroked her soft white feathers. "I don't have any mail for you to deliver." She hooted sympathetically and nipped his finger before flying back out the window. Harry heard laughs coming from outside. He leaned towards the window, looking out on the sunny landscape.

Through a gap in the trees Harry could see the beach, where a few people were swimming. He saw Hawk take a running start and do a cannonball into the water, splashing everyone around him. Once he decided that most people were outside, Harry turned around and headed for the stairs. He might as well help Ron out with the dishes, as he had nothing better to do.

Harry was walking absentmindedly in the front hall when he heard some loud crashes coming from the direction of the kitchen. Curious, Harry tickled the gargoyle lamp that hid the door leading into the kitchen. When he opened the door, he barely had time to look around before a large butcher knife came soaring through the air at his face. He ducked quickly and spotted Ron, who was crouched behind the breakfast bar, looking up at Harry.

"Get down!" he shouted and pulled on the front of Harry's robes and threw him on the ground.

"What's going on?" Harry asked as a large mixing bowl soared over their heads.

"It's those stupid elves again!" Ron roared over the sound of clattering cutlery; one of the elves had emptied a drawer full of knifes, forks, and spoons onto the ground. "I've been cooking for the past two weeks, and that's supposed to be THEIR job! So, I ask them for a bit of help around the manor, simple request right? Understandable? I mean, this is a big place and I'm only one underage wizard trying NOT to break the law as much as possible. But they took it the wrong way! I don't know how I'm going to get to the door without getting a knife in my back!"

He looked over at Harry desperately, as though he might have the answer. Just then at least two-dozen eggs went soaring over the breakfast bar and landed in their laps. Harry opened his mouth to make a suggestion, but his words were drowned out by an earsplitting crash. Cautiously, he and Ron peered around the sides of the breakfast bar to see a cluster of house-elves laughing gleefully as they danced on shards of pink crystal, which Harry assumed must have once been a bowl.

"You little (Ron yelled a word that Harry was sure he'd never say in front of his mother)!" His face was as red as the tomato that had just flown into the wall above their heads. He plunged his hand into the pockets of his robe and pulled out his wand.

"Ron DON'T!" Harry yelled, realizing what Ron was about to do. "They aren't worth getting expelled for!"

Harry grabbed Ron's arm, trying to pull it down, but Ron was too determined. With a powerful tug he wrenched his wand hand out of Harry's grip so quickly that he sent a jet of red sparks into the cupboards to his left.

"I can't take it anymore Harry!" Ron's voice was strangely high-pitched and his eyes had a glint of insanity in them. "That bowl was a priceless heirloom. I got told off for scrubbing it too vigorously on the second day here and they just destroyed it! I'm SICK of taking all the crap for them!"

"But Ron, the Ministry!" Harry pleaded with him desperately, holding onto Ron's robes to stop him from getting up. "You'll be expelled for doing magic during the summer!"

"If the Ministry's going to expel me then they should have done it on the first day here when I magicked those trunks onto the boats!" With that Ron yanked himself out of Harry's grip and stood up, starting to curse everything in sight. Harry covered his head with his arms as pots and pans began crashing to the ground. He could hear the painful squeals of the house-elves as Ron's curses and hexes hit them. Then, as soon as it had started, the crashing stopped. The only sound that could be heard now was Ron's heavy breathing. Cautiously, Harry peered over the breakfast bar. Ron was still red in the face, furiously gazing down at about twenty terrified house-elves.

"Do you get it now?!" Ron roared at them. They flinched under his gaze, and Ron reminded Harry a lot of Swan. "I'm sick of you! This is NOT the way house-elves should behave. Now, we have two options: you can keep acting as you did before, and I can just curse you all again, or, you could start acting the way proper house-elves do and we will all get along. You got that?"

The house-elves were completely motionless, still looking up at Ron as though they feared for their lives. Then, as one, the house-elves began nodding furiously and bowing to him.

"Yes sir, Mr. Breazley, sir."

"We is good house-elves sir."

"Sir won't need his wand again, sir."

"We is cleaning up the mess now, sir."

With that, all of the house-elves in the room began scooping up the dishes and repairing all of the things they had broken. Ron looked at Harry with a shocked expression. It was obvious that he hadn't expected this kind of result. When everything had been repaired and put back neatly, the house-elves bowed to Ron again.

"What is sir wanting us to do now, sir?" said a particularly fat house-elf, stepping forward bravely. They were all still regarding Ron as if he was a dangerous animal.

"Well, uh," Ron stammered. "Well I left a bucket of cleaning stuff in the basement yesterday, and Chilesworth will want it back..."

Immediately, four house-elves rushed out the kitchen door.

"And, um, well, you can keep cleaning, I guess, and dinner is supposed to be ready in a few hours..."

"Say no more Mr. Breazley, sir!" piped up a small female with a very pointy nose. "We is taking care of everything now, sirs can go now."

The house-elves began to rush forward, shooing Harry and Ron out of the kitchen. Harry just caught a glimpse of them bowing before the door slammed shut and disappeared into the wall.

"Well," said Ron, looking wide-eyed at Harry.

"Well is right," Harry replied back, beginning to grin. "Looks like you're going to have a lot more free time."

"Yeah, it does look that way..." Ron said slowly, eyeing the gargoyle lamp that hid the entrance to the kitchen. "I don't know if I trust them though...unless I really did scare them into acting proper."

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon with Ron, who didn't want to stray too far from the kitchen. But, as it turned out, attacking them with his wand was exactly what Ron needed to do to get their respect. When Teddy and Terry walked into the cafeteria that evening, looking tired and happy, they were shocked to see Ron sitting with Harry, though not half as shocked as Swan was when he looked in on the campers that night.

"How did you manage to get them to listen to you?" Terry asked, looking impressed.

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but Harry kicked him under the table and nodded towards Swan, who was watching Ron with his eyes narrowed. He definitely would not be please to know that Ron had attacked the house-elves.

"With my outstanding managerial skills," Ron said loudly so that Swan could hear. Harry suppressed a laugh as Swan gave Ron a look not unlike the one Professor Snape, the Potions Master, saved for Harry. He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

"No, seriously, how did you really do it?" They all turned as Hawk sat down next to Ron.

"Well," Ron replied, "let's just say that a well placed curse can work wonders.

Hawk laughed.

"It's about time you used your wand against those little buggers. If it had been me I probably would have wrung their necks."

Harry chuckled along with the rest of them and looked across the room. His smile fell when his eyes landed on Cory, who was giving him a look of pure contempt, but looked away when Harry saw him. Hawk turned around to see what Harry had been looking at.

"Don't worry about him," Hawk said reassuringly. "He's not going to bother you anymore."

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked skeptically. Judging by the look on Cory's face he still hated Harry as much as before.

"Oh he still hates you," Hawk said, correctly interpreting the look on Harry's face. "He's just not stupid enough to piss Swan off again. He takes Quidditch really seriously, and when Swan told him that he wouldn't make the team if he couldn't get along with the players, he got really worried. He didn't admit it of course, but you can tell with him. He likes to think that he's the iron man, but I can see through him like glass." Hawk laughed. "Plus, I don't think he was expecting you to hurt him as bad as you did, Harry. Almost lost one of his teeth, he had to get the nurse to fasten it back in properly. Nah, he won't be giving you any more trouble, though I'd bet my broomstick he wishes he could."

Harry nodded, trying to keep his face looking impassive, as he was feeling quite proud of himself.

"I can't believe he attacked you," Ron said angrily, stabbing a piece of chicken. "Maybe I'll get one of my new little friends to put a snake in his bed, see who's the big man after it bites him a few times."

Hawk laughed again.

"Hey, slow down there tiger. It's not fair to provoke someone that you know won't fight back."

"Yeah, but it's fun," Ron replied. Hawk chuckled and shook his head.

"Fine, keep scheming," he said, standing up, "but it'd be easy for him to push you down the stairs and say it was an accident, and I wouldn't put it past him." He winked at them before rejoining his friends.

When Harry, Ron and Terry finally returned to their room, two house-elves were outside of the door, and bowed them in like extremely short bellboys. They entered to find that their beds had already been turned down for them and their pillows looked extremely well fluffed.

"Now this is more like it," Ron said happily as Harry entered the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, which looked considerably better than it had that morning. He smiled at his reflection. Now that Ron wasn't going to be working every second of the day and was back to his usual good-natured self, Harry was feeling a lot more like he was back at Hogwarts.

"It's funny," Ron said as Harry climbed into his bunk, "how far threatening someone will get you nowadays."

Harry laughed sleepily, and smiled to himself, imagining the expression on Hermione's face if she could have heard that.