Harry Potter and the Quidditch Island

The Second Cut

On Friday morning, there was a lot of talk about what had actually happened the night before. The Daily Prophet photographer, who normally ate with the rest of the inn's guests, was in the corner of the cafeteria, watching the campers intently. When Harry entered the room, the loud talk became rapid whispers and all eyes were watching him.

"Harry!" Hawk exclaimed, jumping up out of his seat before Cory could stop him. "What's up?"

"Uh, not much," Harry replied, trying to sound casual.

"So what happened last night?" Hawk asked eagerly, sitting down next to him. "Cory wouldn't tell me, he just went to bed. So come on, fill me in would ya?"

Harry looked over at Ron, who also seemed to be racking his brain to come up with a story. He opened his mouth and turned to Hawk, whose eyes were shinning with excitement.

"Good morning gentlemen." Harry jumped as Swan greeted the cafeteria. Relief swept over him and for once, he was glad that Swan was there. "I'm sure you're all interested in last night's events." Everyone was silent, waiting for Swan to continued. "Let me tell you now that there was nothing exciting to it. Mr. Potter simply went for a quick flight over the water last night and fell from his broom. Mr. Rodricks and Mr. Breazley were kind enough to assist me in finding him."

There were many doubtful looks on the people in the cafeteria. None of them seemed to think that this was the truth. The photographer looked severely disappointed. Hawk was watching Swan as though he had just told a very bad joke.

"What about those two Beaters, Braceb and Ogley?" Hawk called out.

"They were both called home because of family emergencies," Swan said shortly with a finality in his tone that stopped Hawk from continuing.

"Now, if there are no more questions," Swan continued without bothering to see if there were, "I will leave you to your breakfast. Practice will begin at nine, as usual."

"OK," Hawk said once Swan had left. "Now tell me what really happened?"

"That's the truth," Harry shrugged, trying not to look guilty. "I was flying and I fell."

Hawk surveyed him as though he had been severely let down.

"Fine," he said standing up. "Don't tell me." He returned to sit with Cory, looking extremely sulky.

"You know, Swan could have come up with a story that didn't make me look like a moron," Harry muttered to Ron when he was sure Hawk wasn't listening. " 'Fell off my broom.' Honestly, we're at a flying camp!"

Ron laughed.

"What surprises me is that he made it sound like I actually helped him," he said, taking a bite out of his toast. "Knowing Swan, I would have thought he'd make it look like I pushed you off."

"So are you going to teach us how to do a proper Wronski Feint today?" Logan asked Jiggs on the dock.

"Not right now, we have other things to do," Jiggs replied, kicking off and hovering in the air. "In case you've forgotten, the second cut is this weekend, and you need to be able to pull off more than one move tomorrow if you want to impress the other coaches."

"But that's the most important one!"

"Not right now, Logan," Jiggs said sharply as he flew off into the air. Logan began muttering under his breath and kicked off so hard that he shook the dock. Harry couldn't blame him for being angry; they could practice barrel rolls any day.

Unfortunately for them, practicing barrel rolls was exactly what Jiggs wanted them to do. And they kept doing so until about half an hour before lunch when Jiggs, sick of their nagging and complaining, let them practice their Wronski Feints. This didn't lift Harry's spirits, as he had hoped it would, because all that he managed to do was get himself thoroughly drenched.

"I just don't understand why I can't do it!" Harry exclaimed to Ron once he had changed into dry clothes.

"Rome wasn't built in a day, Harry," Ron replied sagely. "You haven't given yourself enough time."

"Maybe," Harry muttered into his mushroom soup. "I know what to do, I just can't do it. When it's time to pull out of my dive, I'm already in the water."

Harry was so preoccupied with trying to figure out what he had been doing wrong that he completely missed the bell signally that training had begun and only realized what time it was when he heard splashes coming from outside. Rushing to get his Firebolt, Harry sprinted down to the docks and hopped on his broom to join the rest of the group.

"Glad you could make it," Jiggs said as Harry flew over, slightly breathless. "We're working on no handed flying right now, that's something you three really need to improve."

"So we're not working on..."

"Maybe when you've all gotten the essential moves down properly," Jiggs said rather strictly. "Honestly I'd think that you three would rather learn the important stuff instead of the flashy gimmicks."

With that, Harry set off to join Logan and Patch, who had just tumbled from his broom. Perhaps it was the prospect of working on their Wronski Feints that motivated them, but the three Seekers improved a great deal that afternoon. They even managed to fly around the tip of the island and back without using their hands at all, though they did end up with incredibly sore bottoms. With another hour to go in the lesson, Jiggs seemed satisfied with what they had accomplished and decided to grant their wishes.

"All right, all right," he said, waving his hands at their pleading looks. "Go ahead, you've got an hour to practice your Wronski Feints, but I'm not helping you! This is something you've got to do on your own."

"Here we go," Logan said, pumping himself up. "I can do this. Ready Patch?"

"Ready," Patch nodded. They both flew into position. Harry however, stayed with Jiggs.

"Coach, how are we going to learn if you're not going to teach us?" he asked.

"Learn from each other," Jiggs replied with a furtive grin. "You know what you're trying to do. You can all see the finish line, you just don't know how to get there."

Harry frowned as Jiggs turned to watch Logan and Patch. He did the same.

"OK, on three," Logan said. "One...two...THREE!"

Both he and Patch dived. Patch was streaming ahead, he was going much faster that Logan. The flew downwards, down towards the water...

With a great splash Patch broke the surface of the clear waters, and from the looks at it, he had plunged at least ten feet down. A moment later, Logan hit the water too, though he didn't go as deep as Patch, at least his head didn't go under, even if the rest of his body did.

"You're all making the same mistakes," Jiggs said, shaking his head as Patch gasped for breath. "Come on, Harry, you saw what they did. Put it all together."

Harry furrowed his brow in thought. Patch was doing what he, Harry, was doing: he was underwater while he was pulling up on the broom. But Harry always told himself to pull up when he was half a foot from the water, and Jiggs had said that a perfect Wronski Feint stops at half a foot from the ground...

"Patch's broom was going to fast for him," Harry suddenly realized. "He knew he wanted to stop diving at a foot from the ground...but by the time his brain told his arms to pull up he was already underwater."

"Exactly!" Jiggs exclaimed, overhearing Harry talking to himself. "Now what's Logan doing wrong?"

Harry paused again, remembering what had happened.

"Logan must have pulled up more than a foot from the water, otherwise he would have gone completely under," Harry said slowly. "But he wasn't able to pull up properly. For some reason his broom didn't go up fast enough..."

Harry paused again, trying to remember what Jiggs had said a few days ago. One sentence suddenly popped into his mind.

Remember what Kitimer taught you about posture, and then there's always gravity that you have to take into account.

"Gravity and posture," Harry muttered to himself. "How would that stop you from pulling out of a dive...wait a minute! Logan was sitting too far forward on his broom! When he was diving gravity pulled him forward on the broom, and because his weight was forward it made it harder on his broom to pull up quickly!"

Harry turned to Jiggs, who was grinning broadly.

"Hey Harry, aren't you gonna try it out?" Logan called as he flew over. Harry nodded and flew a few feet away from them. He gripped his broom tightly, trying to remember all of the things that he had just said.

"Come on, you can do this," he muttered to himself. If he was going to pull it off, he'd have to make sure his weight was back, and that he pulled out more than six inches from the water. Three feet should do it...

"What're you waiting for?" Logan called out. With that, Harry dove down.

The water was getting closer and closer; Harry could feel himself sliding forward. He gripped the handle tighter and thrust himself backwards on the broom. Twenty feet away...the wind was making his eyes water. Ten feet away...Harry's knuckles were white and his palms were sweating. He pushed back again, trying very hard to keep his weight centered on the broom. Seven feet away...only a few more feet, remember to pull up early...five feet, four, three...NOW! He pulled up on his broom handle.

For a few seconds Harry flew almost level with the sea, his toes skimming the water. Then he rocketed upwards, the cool air wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Brilliant, Harry! Brilliant!" Harry turned towards the dock to see Ron waving. Grinning broadly, Harry waved back before turning and flying up to Jiggs and the others, unable to stop smiling.

"Excellent!" Jiggs exclaimed as Harry joined them.

"You little punk!" Logan exclaimed, cuffing him on the back. "Good show!"

"Very impressive," Patch agreed.

"Show us again, Harry."

Jiggs made him perform the Wronski Feint five more times to make sure that it wasn't a fluke before allowing him to explain to Patch and Logan just how he had managed to figure it all out. By the time the Chasers and Keepers were entering the front doors, all three Seekers had mastered the move, earning themselves a lot of applause from the campers that were walking by.

"That was amazing, Harry!" Ron exclaimed happily as Harry landed on the dock, still smiling broadly. "There's no way they can keep you off the team now, you've earned this."

Harry was feeling so proud of himself that he couldn't even stop grinning when Swan walked into the cafeteria just as dinner was being served.

"I advise you to all get a good night's rest," he informed them as a hush fell across the room. "Tomorrow you will be training in front of the coaches and the campers, so you will want to be well rested. You will be given more information tomorrow at breakfast. Though there is no curfew at this inn, I will be severely disappointed if I see any of my campers out of their rooms after ten o'clock."

Terry gulped as Swan left the room. He was looking very distressed.

"Are you all right?" Ron asked, looking concerned. "Is there something wrong with the food? If it was one of those house-elves I'll--"

"No, no, the foods fine," Terry said feebly. "I'm just nervous again, I always get nervous when it comes to a test or something like that."

"Terry, you don't give yourself enough credit," Harry said earnestly. "I've seen you fly, you're really good, even if you don't make the first cut, I'm sure you'd be able to get into any Quidditch school, or whatever there is out there." Terry gave a weak smile but turned back to his pasta salad, not looking very comforted.

It was lucky that Harry had done so well in his last practice and his confidence had soared, because he was able to get to sleep fairly easily that night and woke the next morning feeling refreshed and in high spirits. Judging by the pales faces and red eyes on most of the other campers, however, Harry was the only one. Breakfast was a very subdued meal and it was over very quickly, much to Ron's dismay.

"What's the point in cooking if no one's going to eat? What a waste of food."

Even though most people didn't eat (Harry tried to eat as much as he could to lighten Ron's mood) they still had to wait until eight thirty for Swan to come in and brief them. The already hushed cafeteria got even quieter when Swan entered, and Harry had a feeling that a lot of people had stopped breathing.

"Gentlemen, as you know, today you will be flying to impress. All of the coaches, Mr. Breazley, and myself will be watching you today. You're going to be performing the moves, drills and plays that your coach instructs you to do. The session will begin in a half and hour on the pitch. You will not all be flying together. Keepers will fly first, followed by Chasers, Beaters, and finally, Seekers. Do your best gentlemen, we'll all be watching." He gave them a smile that looked more like a sneer before exiting the cafeteria. There were a few nervous whispers between campers.

"Ron, why didn't tell me that you were judging?" Harry asked, leaning forward. Ron shook his head.

"I'm not actually judging," Ron said bitterly. "Swan just wants to intimidate you, because eight people taking notes is more nerve racking that seven. I'll be surprised if he even looks at what I write down. I bet that I could write 'your mother is a fat cow' on the page and he wouldn't even notice."

After a few minutes people began standing up and leaving the room to get their broomsticks. Ron wished Harry good luck as he too joined the silent crowd and headed up to retrieve his Firebolt.

The nervous atmosphere was starting to rub off on Harry as he followed the throng around the manor and out to the pitch. He was starting to feel restless himself. Once he got onto the pitch, Harry kicked off and soared into the air, trying to shake his nerves. He wasn't in the air very long though, because a few minutes later the coaches, the photographer, Swan, and Ron walked over and sat down in seats halfway up the risers, smack dab in the middle of the playing area. On coach stayed on the pitch, however, and he signaled for them to come in. The campers all flew down and stood at attention, waiting for instructions.

"OK Keepers," said the short, squat wizard, pacing in front of the group. "We're going to be starting, so listen up. There's a lot to do this morning, so I thought we'd start with one of the trickier drills that we did. I'm going to need someone to come up here with me though, for the demonstration. A Chaser, preferably."

"I will," Cory said, stepping forward, but Swan interrupted him.

"I don't want any of the campers helping out in demonstrations or anything as such," Swan called down to the coach, who looked quite taken aback. "I don't want to give anyone an advantage over the rest of the trainees." He paused. "Mr. Breazley will help you."

"But sir, I don't have a broom," Ron started, but a look from Swan silenced him.

"Here," Harry said quietly, handing over his Firebolt as Ron hopped down from the risers. He gave Harry a weak smile as he stumbled across the pitch. Harry frowned at Swan; Swan was just trying to embarrass Ron, who hadn't done any flying that summer. Ron and the Keeper coach kicked off and flew up into the air. Ron listened attentively as the coach gave him instructions on what to do. He was looking at Ron apprehensively, as though sure that he wouldn't be able to follow the instructions properly. Finally, he handed Ron a Quaffle and left him alone in the center of the pitch. Harry sat down with Terry and Teddy, a growing feeling of dread upon him.

"All right!" he called out. "Come at me now. Keepers, you'll remember these moves from yesterday."

The coach waved his hand and Ron sped forward, zigzagging back and forth in the air. The coach watched him intently as Ron raised his arm and threw the Quaffle as hard as he could towards the goal posts. The coach caught the Quaffle, though just barely. He rolled a few times in the air and straightened himself, looking at Ron differently.

"Try again," he yelled, chucking the Quaffle back. Ron caught it and flew back to the center of the pitch. Pausing for a moment, he soared forward again, twisting and turning in the air. He raised his arm and soared to the left, causing the coach to fly after him and then, Ron spun on the spot and went to the right, throwing the Quaffle as hard as he could. It whipped through the air and went right through the middle of the hoop without even touching the rim. Harry couldn't help but shout out happily. Even from a distance he could see Ron's face turn pink.

"That's enough of that," Swan barked, silencing Harry. "Mr. O'Toole, is there anything else that you need to demonstrate?"

"No, I'm fine," O'Toole called back. "Thank you Mr. Breazley."

Ron flew back down to the campers, grinning widely, though one look from Swan wiped it off his face. He handed the broomstick back to Harry and sat back down with the coaches, still pink in the face.

"I didn't know Ronny could fly like that," Teddy exclaimed quietly, leaning around Terry.

"Neither did I," Harry said, grinning as he turned to glance at the manager. He had a feeling that Swan hadn't been expecting that.

The Keepers took to the air and began zooming around the goal posts performing some very complicated moves. There were only three of them, but even though they were small in numbers their performance was still fun to watch. They had been flying for an hour when Terry started shaking madly.

"What's wrong?" Harry whispered. Teddy grabbed Terry's shoulders to try to steady him before he fell out of his seat.

"In a half an hour I have to go up there!" Terry hissed through chattering teeth. "I'm not ready!"

"Terry, you'll be fine!" Teddy said reassuringly, patting him on the back.

"Will I? Will I?!?" Terry said shrilly, making people stare. "How do you know?!"

"Calm down!" Harry exclaimed, trying to keep Terry in his seat (he looked like he was going to make a run for it). "You've been practicing all week, stop worrying."

"I can't stop," Terry moaned. "Swan hates me, my coach hates me, and my dad's going to freak if they cut me."

"Swan hates everyone," Harry replied. "And you should stop letting your dad control your life."

Terry didn't answer. He turned back to the pitch just as J.P made a stunning save. He was still shaking, though not as violently as before. Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for him, and he felt even sorrier still when the Keepers flew back down to the stands, looking very relieved, and Swan announced that the Chasers were up. Terry stopped shaking, but it looked like all of his muscles had frozen. The colour drained from his face, he began breathing hard and Harry was sure that he would faint if he weren't careful. He gave Terry a reassuring smile, which Terry tried to return but couldn't; it looked as though he might be sick. Harry watched nervously as his friend stumbled down to the pitch, tripping over his robes and almost falling into Stanley Goatsmed's lap.

"How do you think he'll do?" Harry asked Teddy. Teddy furrowed his brow.

"Well, he's a great flyer," Teddy replied slowly. "But..."

He trailed off. Harry gulped and turned back to the pitch. Both he and Teddy were thinking the same thing: Terry had talent, but would he be able to handle himself out there? A whistle was blown and the Chasers soared up into the air. Terry was flying near the back of the crowd. He didn't look terrified anymore; he had the same emotionless expression plastered face as he had had during the exhibition games, though he was still chalk white. Harry watched tensely as the Chasers began rocketing back and forth through the air, passing the Quaffle back and forth to each other as they performed complicated twists, loops, and dives. He began to relax as Terry caught the ball, spun in the air and chucked straight to Amy before diving downward and flying into another position.

After about half an hour the Chasers were separated into groups of three. Cory and Amy looked particularly spectacular as they flew back and forth across the pitch, dodging around the three opposing Chasers. Just as Cory looked like he was about to take a shot he flung the Quaffle behind him. Terry caught it and threw it with all of his might through one of the goals. Teddy clapped loudly.

As they continued to fly, Harry began to feel restless. He still had a long time to wait, and watching the Chasers perform stunning moves was making him wonder if the things that he had learned would be enough to impress the coaches. High above him the action stopped as the Chasers received new instructions. The coaches used this moment to scribble down a few notes and hold a whispered conference. Harry was beginning to feel more and more like he was watching some sort of dog show where the campers were performing the most complicated tricks they could muster. He was also beginning to wonder how the flyers could concentrate while the Daily Prophet photographer clicked away with his camera.

At noon, a bell sounded from the manor. Swan stood and addressed his trainees.

"You may head in for lunch now. Be back here promptly at one o'clock. Beaters, make sure that you are ready." He sat back down with the coaches and they all began to speak quickly, comparing notes.

"Terry, you did great!" Harry said with a reassuring smile as he and Teddy crossed the pitch to where Terry had landed. He looked very flustered, and his skin was clammy, but on the plus side he wasn't white anymore (he was a pinkish shade of green).

"Yeah, don't know what you were worrying about," Teddy said with a laugh as he slapped him on the back. Terry stumbled forward, looking as though he might be sick.

The atmosphere in the cafeteria as they ate lunch was diverse. On one end of the scale the Keepers and Chasers, with the exception of Terry, were all relieved and happy, and speaking much louder than usual. The Beaters and Seekers, on the other hand, were a very subdued group. Even Teddy, who was usually smiling and laughing, was quiet, brooding over his meatball sandwich. Harry was going over everything that he'd learned since Kitimer's standing lesson at the beginning of the summer. At five to one the crowd bustled back to the pitch. The Chasers and Keepers were all laughing happily. Harry took his seat in the stands next to Terry, sitting more stiffly than he usually did.

The Beaters were performing great feats of strength and agility. Harry was very impressed when Hawk sent a Bludger flying straight through one of the goal hoops without so much as skimming the rim. But the hour and a half that the Beaters had to show off their skills was over very quickly and in no time at all Harry was climbing down through the rows and joining Patch and Logan on the pitch.

"Don't worry guys, just relax," Jiggs muttered to them as he walked over, though he looked almost as nervous as they did. "We're just going to be going over some of the different flying moves that I taught you this week, and then we have a little bit of an obstacle course to get through. So, er, let's get at it."

With his heart beating loudly Harry kicked off into the air with the other three and flew up until they were at the same level as the goal posts.

"Ready?" Jiggs called out? He was hovering about twenty feet away from them, providing a wide berth. "All right then, let's go."

He began shouting out instructions, which Harry listened to intently, not wanting to miss a word. In a few seconds he was soaring around the pitch with Logan and Patch, each of them going in different directions but performing their moves as flawlessly as they could. Harry's nervous feeling subsided a little but he kept his concentration, trying to think of nothing except his flying. Performing flips and twirls in the air while getting your picture taken was rather unnerving, but Harry tried to push that from his mind as he soared underneath of Patch and rolled over in the air.

It was evident that the people in the stands were much more relaxed than they had been when Harry was with them. As their turns had all come and gone, they had nothing more to worry about. There were a lot of cheers from the stands as the Seekers tumbled, twirled and looped around the pitch. When Jiggs blew his whistle an hour later, Harry was glad to take a break, as he was feeling very dizzy. Jiggs signaled them over to him.

"Ok, if you'd all just move out of the way, I'll start setting up the last part of your exam."

Jiggs reached into his robes and pulled out what looked like a model for a small child's dollhouse. He flew to the center of the pitch and let go; the model floated in the air. Jiggs tapped it once with his wand and flew back to his group quickly as the small model expanded to twenty times its original size. Harry could now see that it was composed of what looked like the large orange punching bags from the triple-decker obstacle course that they had tackled the previous week. They floated innocently in a long cluster. There were also six or seven Bludgers circling the punching bags as though they were waiting for a moment to strike. At one end of the grouping of punching bags was a solitary Snitch, sitting completely still in the air.

"Right then," Jiggs said, "What you've got to do is travel through the punching bags, dodging the Bludgers, and capture the Snitch. It'll be easy enough for you, you've all done this before, and as soon as you're out this'll all be over. Logan, you can go first."

Logan probably would have scowled if he didn't look so nervous. Cautiously, he flew over to the punching bags and after a short pause to catch his bearings he soared in.

The punching bags were exactly like the ones on the obstacle course. They bobbed up and down, swung back and forth, and sent painful looking punches at Logan. It was lucky for Logan that the Bludgers didn't all attack at once. They took turns flying towards him, trying to knock him off his broom. As soon as he neared the end of the course, the Snitch took flight. It shot backwards just as Logan emerged from behind the last punching bags. In a few seconds he had caught it, looking triumphant and extremely relieved. The crowd below cheered as Logan handed the Snitch to Jiggs, who smiled and motioned for him to go and join the other students below.

Jiggs tossed the Snitch like a baseball, and it flew to its starting position.

"Recipero," he shouted, waving his wand in the direction of the course. Instantly, the punching bags and Bludgers quivered and froze in their original starting positions; the obstacle course had been reset.

"Ok, Harry, you're up."

Harry nodded and headed over to the course. He felt like he was looking down a long orange tunnel. Above his head the Bludgers were vibrating slightly, almost as though they were anxious to dive at him. He could just see the Snitch shinning at the other end. Keeping it in sight, Harry rocketed forwards as fast as he could.

As soon as he passed the first two bags the others started moving, trying to knock him over. The speeding Bludgers were an added danger, zooming back and forth at awesome speeds. His own personal safety was not the only thing that Harry was worried about; he had to look out for the well-being of his Firebolt. It was very difficult, trying to prevent the punching bags from trapping him in between them and snapping his broom in two, while at the same time dodging the Bludgers and keeping his eyes on the Snitch.

A Bludger flew straight for his head. Harry ducked to save his face, only to be punched very viciously in the side by one of the floating punching bags. The Snitch was getting closer and closer, he'd be there in a few moments...

Unfortunately, the Bludgers seemed to have realized that. Their attacks were becoming faster and closer together. Twice Harry had to stop in midair to avoid running straight into one. Time was ticking away, and it was painfully obvious that Logan had gotten through much faster. Gritting his teeth Harry put on a burst of speed and shot forward, trying to ignore the pain as he was tossed back and forth. A Bludger flew dangerously close to his ear. Harry ducked but kept his eyes facing forward; he was almost out of the course. As he neared the end, the punching bags started swinging wildly in a desperate attempt to stop him. Pausing for only a moment to let the bags swing out of the way, Harry rocketed forward with his arms outstretched.

When Logan had gone after the Snitch it had flown in a straight line away from the course. This time, however, it rocketed downward. Harry flew after it; he could still hear the Bludgers behind him, whooshing through the air. Just before it hit the ground, the Snitch stopped its descent and flew parallel to the surface of the pitch. Harry pulled out of his dive and followed it, speeding up as he went. It was fortunate that he had learned to do a Wronski Feint, otherwise he would have probably crashed straight into the turf. With a great swing of his arm, Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch. He pulled up and flew back to Jiggs and Patch, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his chest. He handed the Snitch to his coach and returned to sit with Terry and Teddy.

"Good job," Teddy said with a grin.

"You too," Harry said back. He turned to watch Patch, who had just flown into the course.

By the looks of it, the punching bag course had been bewitched to learn from its mistakes. Patch was having a difficult time getting past the increasingly violent bags. The Snitch had gotten faster too, and it took Patch a full minute and a half to catch it. As soon as he had, Jiggs collected the golden ball and shrunk the model to its original size before pocketing it and heading back to the crowd with a distraught looking Patch.

All around Harry boys were standing up and stretching, comparing what happened in their own tryouts.

"Where do you think you stand?" Teddy asked, stretching his long arms up over his head.

"I think Logan's going to make it," Harry replied, trying not to sound too disappointed. It was the truth; Logan had been faster on both the basement obstacle course and the one they had just flown through. And he had been just as good as Harry at flying.

Teddy nodded gravely but said no more. Harry stood up next to him, preparing to climb down, when Swan stood up. Everyone went silent, wondering what he was about to say.

"Gentlemen, you're not done yet," he said rather sharply. Harry turned to Ron for some sign of what they were about to do, but Ron was too busy balancing a large stack of clipboards in his hands. "There is a written exam to be completed before dinner tonight."

Many jaws dropped, Harry's included. He hadn't prepared for a quiz.

"It's five o'clock now," Swan said, looking at his watch. "That gives you two hours to complete the test. Line up in front of your respective coaches to receive the exam and then space yourselves out in the stands. If any of you are caught cheating you will be cut, no questions asked. You may collect your exams now."

Nervously, Harry headed towards Jiggs, who had three booklets in his hands. He couldn't help but notice how very thick they were. Harry took the one on top and looked down at it. It was blank.

"Uh, Coach?" Harry said quietly, flipping through the empty pages. "Where are the questions?"

"Don't worry, it's just a preventative measure to make sure no one gets a head start," Jiggs answered simply.

"Ah," Harry replied, trying extremely hard to make it sound like he had a clue. Nervously, he accepted the pencil that Jiggs offered him, headed across the pitch and seated himself in the lowest row of seats. Soon the risers around him were full of campers flipping through their booklets with puzzled expressions on their faces. A loud pop emanated from across the stadium and small green writing began to snake across the pages as though being written by an invisible pen.

The scratching sound of many pencils filled the air. After about fifteen minutes of writing, Harry stopped to think. The questions, which had started off simple, were becoming extremely complicated. The exam was divided into three parts: an overview of the game, which included the history that they covered earlier that month, an outline of the other positions, and then an in-depth analysis of the player's own position. Though at first glance it appeared easy, Harry was finding himself improvising answers that he hoped made it look like he knew what he was talking about. Minutes ticked by as Harry pondered over questions that he had never even considered.

As panic set in, he was becoming very conscious of the campers that were spread across the stadium. All of them seemed to have something to write down. His pencil hovered above the page as he considered what to put down. Half an hour passed...an hour...after about an hour and fifteen minutes Harry's attention was pulled away from his exam as someone walked passed him, heading for the coaches to hand in his paper. Harry turned back to his work and began writing furiously, painfully aware of how empty the stadium was becoming. With fifteen minutes left, Harry jumped to his feet and rushed over to Jiggs, shoving the papers into his hands.

"Well?" Terry asked as Harry met him at the door. "What do you think?"

"I think I want dinner," he replied shortly, trying not to look over at Logan, who was laughing loudly and looked completely unperturbed by the test they had just taken.

It was obvious to Harry, as he looked around the cafeteria that evening, exactly who had done well on the second cut. Those who had succeeded were talking happily, looking very cool and collected. The rest of the people were looking dismal and casting resentful glances at those who didn't. Swan came in at the end of the meal to inform them that yet again they would have to wait until after dinner on Sunday before they received the results of the cut. Shortly after dinner, Harry went upstairs to bed so that he could avoid seeing Logan looking so cheerful. It gave him a strong desire to hit something.

Warm sunlight shone through the window, lighting the room Sunday morning. Harry rolled over so that his face was in his pillow, hoping to block out the sun so that he could get back to sleep. The longer he slept, the less time he would have to wait for dinner.

Something started tapping on the window.

"Harry," Terry was saying.

Leave me alone, Harry thought to himself. I want to sleep.

"Harry, you're owl's outside. So's yours Ron, and there's a second one here and, oh dear, is that thing alive?"

"Errol!" Ron exclaimed from above him. A thud sounded near Harry's head as Ron jumped from the top bunk and opened the window. Hedwig landed on Harry's back.

"What do you want?" Harry muttered, lifting his head from his pillow.

She hooted indignantly and dropped something near his feet. Harry dropped his head back on his pillow. Just then, another three packages landed on the foot of his bed. Groaning, Harry rolled over and rubbed the sleep from his eyes just as a large eagle owl soared through the open window and out into the morning sky.

"What's all this?" Terry asked curiously, picking up one of the boxes and shaking it. It took Harry a moment to figure it out.

"It's my birthday!" he exclaimed suddenly. "It's July thirty first. I didn't even realize, I've been too preoccupied with Quidditch!" Harry sat up so fast that he bumped his head the bottom of Ron's bunk. He grabbed the closest package and tore it open. Inside were a letter and a present wrapped in shiny silver paper. It was from Hermione.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday Harry, I hope you and Ron are well. Ginny says hi, and Fred and George said break a leg, and I think they mean it literally. I'm afraid they're slightly jealous that they didn't get to go along with you. And Ron should consider not opening any letters they send him. I have a feeling they might have put in a few curses because he didn't invite them along.

Since I'm talking about Quidditch, I do hope you're being careful. I still don't think Mr. Lockley was being completely truthful with us back on Platform nine and three quarters. And I also hope that you're careful on the pitch as well. Quidditch is a very dangerous sport and these people are all much more advanced than you. The Daily Prophet has been putting in an article on your camp every Monday. I've included clippings of these along with your present. The things they are making you do look terrifying! Mrs. Weasley almost had a heart attack looking at the picture of you and two other boys flipping through the air. Fred and George both got a kick out of the pictures of Ron though.

I hope you're enjoying yourselves and that they aren't working you too hard. And make sure that you finish the homework that was assigned to you over the summer. Snape would love a reason to give you a suspension on your first day back. Oh, by the way, what did the letter that was sent to Mrs. Weasley say? Sirius wanted to let me read it, but Mrs. Weasley stopped him. What happened? Write back soon.

With love from

Hermione

Hermione had given him a book called The International Book of Quidditch Facts, full of fun information from teams all over the world. Tucked into the front cover were a few sheets of newsprint. The Daily Prophet had written articles, one from the day the camp opened and one the Monday after the first cut. The other two weeks didn't even have articles, only photos. The articles weren't very long either, only touching on what the campers were doing and who the coaches were. But what they lacked in written length was made up for in the number of pictures that were included. The newspaper had published photos of the most exciting things that they had done. There was a picture of Harry, Patch and Logan practicing trick flying over the water, which Harry assumed was the one that had shocked Mrs. Weasley. Even Ron was in the pictures, two of them to be exact. One showed the campers kicking off into the storm as they crossed the Irish Sea. Ron was in the background, stumbling as he threw all his weight against a large trunk. The other was a picture of their first flying lesson, when they were building up leg muscles. The picture showed Ron sitting on top of Cory's weights, yelling while Cory got madder and madder. Thankfully there were no embarrassing pictures of their standing lesson or of Harry falling into the water.

The next package that Harry opened was from the Weasleys, who had sent him a large box of homemade sweets and cakes. Harry decided it would be prudent not to eat them in public, as Fred and George were prone to bewitching their food as practical jokes, and he didn't fancy growing feathers in the middle of a practice. Sirius sent him a very interesting chess set with pieces that were carved as Quidditch players. Both of these packages came with encouraging notes, and Harry was annoyed to see that Sirius hadn't even mentioned the incident with Braceb and Ogley. The eagle owl was from Hogwarts, and its letter contained a list of items he would need for his sixth year. It also brought another short letter and a small grubby package. Opening it, Harry was shocked to find a pointed black claw on a thin silver chain. Curiously, Harry unfolded the letter and read it.

Dear Harry,

How're you doing at camp? Good I hope. I bet you're having lots of fun, playing Quidditch all summer. I've been reading the paper and I saw all those pictures of you and your camp. You must be the youngest one there, so I reckoned you could use some luck. This here's a dragon claw. Not just any dragon though. This is one of Norbert's!

"No way," Harry said disbelievingly. He held up the claw, which shone in the light. It looked sharper than a knife.

Charlie Weasley sent it to me a few weeks ago, Harry read. Said that Norbert gets himself into a lot of fights and this has to be the fiftieth claw of his that they've found. Usually they're kept for scientific stuff, but Charlie said that they've got plenty from him so he sent this one to me. I thought you'd like it. He said that Norbert's having a great time. He's properly settled now, with a great lady dragon and plenty of younguns. I figured that if Norbert is that lucky than he'll make you lucky too. Have a great summer, and happy birthday!

Hagrid

Harry looked from the letter to the claw that dangled from his hand. The last time he had been in contact with Norbert he had almost been expelled and had lost a hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor. But, mainly out of respect for Hagrid, Harry slipped the chain around his neck and tucked it under his shirt.

"Can I see what you got?" Ron asked, sitting down at the foot of Harry's bed and picking up the newspaper clippings. "Hey! That's me!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Man, Cory looks mad. I'll have to get this one framed."

Terry took the clippings and knelt on the floor.

"Oh no," he said miserably. "Will you look at this? Why did they have to put this one in?"

Harry took the page back and choked back a laugh. Among the pictures of the Chasers practicing was a picture of Terry, clinging to a one of the goal hoops, his broom nowhere to be seen.

"Someone flew into me and knocked me off my broom," he said dejectedly. "I had to grab onto the hoop to stop myself from falling to the ground. Won't dad be proud..."

"There's a few good pictures of you though," Harry said once he had regained his voice. "There's lots of pictures of the Chasers, see here?"

Quickly, he directed Terry's attention to the page so that he wouldn't notice Ron, who was shaking with silent laughter. He continued to look through the pictures with Terry while Ron flipped through his presents and cards. Harry watched himself fly across one of the clippings, performing a spectacular upside-down dive followed by a flip and turn. He couldn't help but smile proudly.

"Norbert? As in Baby Norbert? As in the same Norbert that almost bit off my hand?" Ron asked a few moments later as he read Hagrid's note.

"The one and only," Harry replied, pulling the claw out from under his shirt. Ron held it in his hand, looking at it with and awed expression on his face.

"Are you sure it will bring you good luck?" he asked skeptically.

Harry shrugged and stuffed it back down his shirt. It felt cold against his chest.

"Well happy birthday Harry," Terry said, standing up. "I'm going to get dressed."

"Yeah, happy birthday," Ron said, looking away awkwardly. His ears were turning pink "I, uh, I didn't get you a present, I've been busy and all...didn't get a chance..."

"It's ok," Harry replied quickly. "Even I forgot about it, and it's my birthday!"

"I didn't forget, I just, lost track of time," Ron said as Harry stood up and pulled some clothes out of his trunk.

They spent the rest of the morning playing chess with Terry and Teddy. Harry decided to break in his new set in a game against Terry, which he won. Just as they were heading for lunch, Swan met them and took Ron away, saying his had a small job for him to complete. However, Ron didn't join them during lunch. Not wanting to play any more chess, Harry decided to get the book Hermione had sent him and read it while Terry and Teddy played. He had retrieved the book and was crossing them empty entrance hall when he heard hurried footsteps coming from behind him. Turning around, he saw Ron walking over to him, clutching a piece of paper folded in his hand.

"Here," he said quietly, passing it to Harry. "Happy birthday."

Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face. Ron was glancing around the empty hall very nervously.

"Come on, let's go in here," Ron muttered, pulling Harry into the sitting room nearby. Harry sat down in a large maroon armchair and unfolded the paper. Written on it in neat gold writing was:

All England Quidditch Team: Second Cut Results

The following are the results of the second cut, which determine who will be on the All England Quidditch Team this year. We thank all participants and congratulate everyone on getting so far. Those who are not on the following list are asked to collect their things and meet on the dock outside of the manor where you will be returned to the mainland.

Chasers:

Cory Rodricks, Terrence Whittaker, Amy Zampowick

Beaters:

Rodney Nackoronty, Harold Walker

Keeper:

Jean-Paul Malcotts

Seeker:

Harry Potter

Substitutes:

Jeremiah Stanton, Charlie Chambers, Stanley Goatsmed, Kamel Faeron, Logan O'Leary

Harry gaped at the paper. The starting line! But he had been so sure that Logan was going to make it.

"Where did you get this?" he asked finally.

"I wrote it," Ron replied in a hushed voice. "Swan wanted me to write up the notice to put on the wall after dinner, so I thought I might as well write two so that you wouldn't have to wait."

He grinned nervously. Harry grinned back.

"Guess I can't say you missed my birthday."

"Well, while we're here I'd rather you did," Ron answered, his eyes darting nervously around them. "You aren't supposed to know about this, and if Swan found out that I told you...well, I don't like the idea of spending the rest of the summer in the basement."

Harry nodded, folded the list and tucked it back into his pocket. He'd made the team; he'd been picked over some of the best flyers in the country. An unstoppable grin began to cross his face.

"I have to go, I have cleaning to supervise," Ron said, standing up. "Happy birthday Harry."

Still grinning, Harry returned to where Terry and Teddy were playing. Terry was staring at the board with his head resting in his hand, looking extremely thoughtful. Teddy, on the other hand, was sitting back in his chair, looking almost bored. Harry opened his book, still grinning stupidly, but after reading the same paragraph three times he found that he just couldn't concentrate.

"What's up?" Teddy asked as he took out Terry's bishop with his knight. "Why so happy?"

"It's a good book," Harry lied. He wanted to badly to tell them what he knew, they'd both be so thrilled, but he'd promised Ron.

"Ha!" Terry exclaimed, knocking out the knight. "Check!"

Teddy looked at the board for a moment and then directed his castle to knock off Terry's knight.

"Checkmate."

Harry laughed at the dumbfounded look on Terry's face and stood up. If he couldn't share his pride with anyone at the camp, he'd have to tell someone who wasn't there. He headed out to the entrance hall and up the staircase.

He started by writing thank-you notes to Hagrid and the Weasleys, making sure to tell them that he'd made the team. Then he started scribbling out a note to Hermione. He filled it up with details of what had happened at the camp, and gave her a thorough description of his encounter with Voldemort's spies and the complete story of what he had overheard on their last night at Hogwarts to the incident a few nights ago. It was only fair that she should know what was going on. Once he had completed that letter he pulled out a new sheet of parchment and moved on to Sirius's letter. Even if Sirius wasn't being completely honest with him, he'd still want to know what was going on. So, Harry began to write away, giving a play-by-play account of what had happened that day.

Sirius, I know those two guys were working for Voldemort, Harry wrote, nearing the end of his letter. I heard you talking with Dumbledore at then end of the school year, so you don't have to lie to protect me. I'm not a little kid; I can handle more than you think. Anyways, I've got to go. Have a good rest of the summer.

Harry

He folded up his fourth letter and walked over to Hedwig, who was drinking from her water dish.

"I need you to deliver a few letters," he said, stroking her white feathers. "One goes to Hagrid, and the rest to the Burrow. Can you handle that?"

She hooted reassuringly and stuck out her leg to allow him to fasten on the letters. Errol, who had been sleeping on Ron's bed all afternoon, struggled to his feet and joined her on the windowsill, looking especially pathetic. Harry undid the latch on the window and the two owls soared out. He watched as Hedwig flew majestically towards the horizon while Errol bobbed and flopped behind her, coming dangerously close to running himself into a tree branch.

When dinnertime rolled around tension began to fill the air. When Harry entered the cafeteria he felt like he had just walked into a funeral. Every face was grave and all talk was in muttered voices. Harry sat down next to Terry, trying to look as somber as the rest of them. He began to feel very sorry for the trainees that hadn't made the team. The people around him were pecking at their food, and most meals were almost untouched when the dishes were cleared. Everyone stayed in their seats, waiting for some sign that the list was posted.

Minutes ticked by in silence. Harry was beginning to feel extremely bored, but put on a nervous face nonetheless. Then, Ron walked past the doorway, holding a piece of paper in his hands. Terry began shaking violently as the people around them jumped up and rushed towards the door.

"It all comes down to this," Terry chattered as Harry pulled him out of his seat. "The big moment, the one we've been waiting f--"

"Terry would you shut up and walk?" Harry grunted and he pushed him forward. Terry stopped talking and stumbled forward out the door.

"Would you get out of my way?" Harry could hear Ron saying from somewhere in the mass of people that was filling the entrance hall. "I can't post this if you don't let me get to the wall."

The crowd began to shift as people made way for Ron. Next, the room began to fill with much talking. There was cheering from some and disappointed groans from others. Harry pushed Terry forward with Teddy close behind. Finally, they broke through the crowd to where Ron was standing, still trying to push his way out of the mob.

A second later the hall was echoing with Teddy's loud cheers. He slapped both Terry and Harry on the backs. Terry fell to the floor; he seemed to have lost use of his legs, but when Teddy pulled him back up he looked as happy as ever. From somewhere to his left, Harry could hear Cory, Hawk, and J.P. laughing happily.

"We should get out of here," Ron said to Harry as someone trod on his feet.

"Ron!"

"Oh no," he muttered as Amy came rushing forward, grinning from ear to ear, obviously forgiving him for yelling at her. He turned around and headed away from Harry, who stifled a laugh and shoved his way through the crowd. Once out, he turned around, looking for Ron.

"Harry! We made it man!" Hawk shouted, rushing over to him. He shook his hand vigorously and slapped him on the back.

"Congratulations," J.P. smiled as he and Cory joined them. Harry smiled back and then turned to Cory, who had a disparaging look on his face. Hawk was suddenly looking very apprehensive.

"Good job, Potter," he said finally.

"You too," Harry replied, grinning slightly. Hawk looked very relieved.

"Hey, why don't we all go celebrate?" he suggested. "I've got some fireworks upstairs and--"

"Maybe later," Harry cut in, scanning the room for signs of Ron. "I've got to go to the library. I, er, forgot something there." With one last check to see if Ron had immerged from the crowd yet, he turned and headed out of the room.

He had no choice but to go in the direction of the library, but he didn't stop there. Instead, he continued down the hall, looking in on the many different rooms that were part of the manor. He peered into one room, only to see Jiggs staring back.

"Hey, what brings you down here?" he asked, folding up the newspaper he was reading.

"Just walking," Harry replied, stepping into the room. He recognized it as the coach's lounge where he had seen Swan briefing the coaches from the secret passageway in the wall. His eyes drifted to a large hanging mirror at the back of the room.

"Congratulation on making the team," Jiggs said, snapping Harry back into focus. "I knew you had it in you."

"Thanks," he replied. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

Harry paused. This question had been nagging at him ever since Ron had showed him the team list, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind. Now it was bugging him again, and Jiggs was the best person to ask.

"Why did I make the starting line instead of Logan?" Harry asked bluntly. "I mean, we were pretty much equal when it came to trick flying, but he's been faster than me at all of our timed drills. Wouldn't that mean that he deserves it more?"

To his surprise, Jiggs laughed.

"Harry, when it comes to playing Quidditch, speed in a drill isn't everything," he said patiently. "Honestly, when it comes to flying skill you're about equal. But you've got something that Logan doesn't have." Jiggs paused and furrowed his brow. "It's hard to explain. You're a natural, that's the easiest way to put it. I can see it in the way you fly. And you're a fast learner. I watched you all fly off into the woods after those Snitches on Monday. Logan and Patch both flew after the Snitches, but you flew straight forward. Why was that?"

"Well, because I figured if Snitches are so crafty that they would probably try to lead us on," Harry answered thoughtfully. "You said that Snidgets were used to being hunted, so I figured that the Snitches would know what direction we'd follow and head the other way. Does that make sense?"

"Complete sense," Jiggs said with a smile. "See, anyone can listen to a lecture and pass a test, but it takes another kind of person to use the information on that test in real life, which is exactly what you did. You have a lot of talent and you know how to use it. You're main problem is that you're always second guessing yourself, your ability, and your right to compete. Just trust yourself and there's no way anyone will be able to beat you."

Harry found himself grinning stupidly again. He thanked Jiggs for his help and left the room, back on his search for Ron. He found him in the front hall, heading for the doors.

"Harry come on, the show's about to get started," he said excitedly. Together they threw all of their weight against the doors and slid through the small opening they had made before it slammed shut.

Outside on the dock sat eleven people, eleven people that would be Harry's team members for the rest of the summer. Looking at them, Harry felt suddenly proud of all that they had accomplished. It gave him a very happy feeling.

The red sunset was barely visible over the horizon and the stars were beginning to shine. Hawk was standing at the very edge of the dock with a pile of Dr Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat Wet-Start Fireworks that would rival the stash Fred and George Weasley usually had.

"You're just in time boys," Hawk said dramatically as Harry and Ron joined them. "Sit back, relax, and let the entertainment begin."

He grabbed a handful of fireworks and threw them into the water. There was a fizzing sound, followed by an explosion that threw Hawk back into J.P.'s lap. Thousands of colourful sparks filled the air. Harry sat down on the edge of the dock and dipped his feet into the water. The show continued for hours, thanks to Ron, who skillfully managed to steal the door key from Chilesworth's office so that they wouldn't have to go in at eleven, and it was well after two in the morning when a tired and extremely happy group of people entered Codelsbey manor and headed up to bed.