Harry Potter and the Quidditch Island

Back to the Real World

That evening, Harry and Ron went to dinner in one of the nicest dining rooms the manor had. It had been reserved for the team members and their guests only, and yet when Harry entered that evening it seemed more crowded then the cafeteria had all summer. There were about forty-five parents, siblings and other acquaintances there to see the players, not to mention the guests that the coaches brought along with them. And, on top of all that, there was the photographer who had been at the camp all summer. Alone he was worth five added people to the crowd, but now that he had brought along a reporter it was as if there was another ten people in the room.

Harry was being passed around from person to person, meeting families and girlfriends of almost everyone in the camp. For once, Ron was getting as much, if not more attention than Harry. The reporter had become very interested in him, as he was only sixteen and had the burden of managing a team. Harry smiled proudly as his friend was ushered off into a corner to be interviewed. After about half an hour of socializing and munching on dinner rolls, a group of house-elves rushed out to take orders.

"Hey Logan, where are you going?" Harry called out as he watched Logan head towards the door.

"We're not staying for dinner," Logan replied, nodding at the pretty red haired girl at his side. "We're going to go have dinner on the beach."

"Is this your girlfriend?" Harry asked. Logan and his partner chuckled.

"Fiancé," Logan corrected him.

"What?"

"Well I couldn't very well wear my ring during practice," Logan said, interpreting Harry's stunned look correctly. "Anyways, we're going to go. See you, Harry."

"How old is Logan?" Harry asked Hawk once he had pushed through the crowd.

"Uh...twenty three I think," Hawk said. "Something like that. Why?"

"He's engaged," Harry replied. Hawk's eyes widened.

"O'Leary's engaged? Holy smokes, I wonder why he never mentioned it. Doesn't really seem like the type, does he?"

Harry shrugged and looked towards the door just as Ron stood up and left the reporter.

"They really grill you, those reporters do," he said, shaking his head. "Fred and George are going to die when they read that article, I just know it."

The festivities continued throughout the night. The food was great, and the drinks even better, and it wasn't until three in the morning that Harry's eyelids felt too heavy to keep open and he dragged himself upstairs to bed. He was one of few team members who did though, because when he went down to the cafeteria for lunch that afternoon half of the team looked as though they were going to fall asleep in their soups.

"Why don't you just go to bed?" Harry asked, as he and Ron sat down at Cory's table.

"Too hungry," Cory replied sleepily. Hawk groaned.

"My head feels like it's going to explode," he complained. "Can you get the house-elves to send me some coffee or something?"

"If you have a hangover the nurse has some medication you can take," Terry said, leaning over from his table.

"Thanks," Hawk replied as a house-elf handed him a steaming cup of coffee, "but I think I'll stick with the coffee. It's always worked before."

As he said this, Swan walked into the room. Harry was expecting to get briefed on what they would be practicing that day before he realized that there was nothing left to practice for. It was a strange feeling, not having anything more to do. But then, why else would Swan be there?

"All of you need to shower," Swan said as he walked up to their tables. There were a few laughs, but they died out at the serious expression on Swan's face. Apparently, he wasn't ready to relax.

"You still have one more task as a part of the All England Quidditch team. You have a photo shoot to go to today, interviews to attend, and most importantly, meetings with the scouts of the professional teams."

"Photo shoot?" Cory blurted out. Hawk snorted into his coffee and J.P. shook his head, laughing silently, but Cory didn't notice. He watched Swan intently, with an alarmed expression on his face.

"Yes, Mr. Rodricks, the Daily Prophet needs pictures of you for the sports section. They've done pieces on you every Monday of the summer, and, lucky for you all, they are devoting almost all of the Monday sports section to your team. That's going to give you a lot of exposure, you should be grateful. It's twelve thirty now, I want you all on the pitch in an hour wearing your game robes and carrying your broom sticks."

"An hour?" Cory exclaimed, but Swan was already on his way out the door.

"Oh no, Cory, what will you wear?" Hawk cried in mock concern. Harry laughed along with the rest of the team.

"My game robes, obviously," Cory replied as he stood up and headed out the door. Harry watched him, amazed.

"Did he actually think you were serious?" Harry asked Hawk.

"Yeah," he replied. "Sad isn't it?"

When he was finished eating, Harry headed upstairs to shower and change. His robes had been cleaned and folded and were laying on his bed. At about one twenty, he and Ron were both standing in front of the mirror. Harry tried pointlessly to flatten his hair while Ron straightened his dress robes. They stopped by Cory's room before heading down to the pitch. Hawk answered the door, looking very annoyed.

"You guys might as well go down to the pitch, we're going to be a while," he said, casting an angry look over his shoulder.

"What's taking so long?" Ron asked, pushing past. Cory was rushing back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom. What he was doing, Harry had no idea, but it seemed to be annoying Hawk greatly, and even J.P., who was usually very good-natured, looked peeved.

"How much longer are you going to be?" Harry called out as Cory emerged from the bathroom.

"Just a few minutes," he called back, stopping at the mirror to straighten his hair.

"Do we have to drag you out there?" J.P. asked crossly.

"Just gimme a sec," Cory said, pulling out a stray hair that Harry couldn't even see. That was the final straw for Hawk.

"That's it," he said loudly, crossing the room. He grabbed Cory around the waist and lifted him off the ground. "Grab his broom," he grunted to a laughing J.P. as Cory shouted angrily.

"Put me DOWN!"

"Are you going to stop being an idiot?" Hawk shouted back. Cory squirmed around enough to make Hawk drop him. They glared at each other as Cory straightened his robes and Hawk marched him out the door.

A pale blue velvet curtain was floating in the middle of the pitch. The six coaches were standing in front of it as the photographer adjusted his camera. His reporter friend was standing off to the side with a stack of papers and a handful of pens.

"Ok, second line players over here!" the photographer shouted as the coaches moved away from the curtain. "We need a group photo of the five of you." He rushed forward and ushered them into a line. A group picture was taken, along with individual shots of each player, and then he turned to Harry and the rest of the players.

"Hmm," he said, scratching his chin. "How should we arrange this one...two lines I think...

"You!" said suddenly, pointing to Teddy. "You'll be in the center of the back line. Right over here, that's right. Now who's the captain?" Cory stepped forward and the photographer grabbed his arm and positioned him in front of Teddy, slightly to the right. Cory frowned and straightened his ruffled robes.

"And you," he continued, pointing at Hawk, "you go on his right and you can go on the end." At this he pointed to J.P., who followed Hawk to his spot in front of the curtain. "Now who's tallest..." he said slowly, surveying Harry, Terry and Amy. Finally, he pointed at Terry. "You, back row, next to the tall guy. So you can be center left," he said to Harry, "and you go next to him." Amy and Harry nodded and stood in position.

"Step forward," he said, snapping his fingers at J.P. "And you need to move to the left," he said to Terry. "You're hiding behind that boy. And Mr. Swan, why don't you stand at this end, and you, Breazley, you stand next to the girl."

"How's my hair," Cory whispered to Harry as the photographer repositioned Ron.

"Fine," Harry whispered back. "It looks the same as it always does."

"Stop nagging!" Hawk snapped at Cory.

"Ok everyone, here we go," the photographer said. After one final adjustment to his camera, he began clicking away. Harry tried to look natural as the flashes of the camera clouded his vision and the purple smoke that was coming out of it began to make him want to cough.

"Now we just need to get some individual shots and we're done," the photographer said finally, after taking at least twenty shots of the group. Once those photos had been taken, the reporter came over and started handing out booklets to each of them.

"What's this?" Harry asked, flipping through the pages.

"The fast way to do twelve interviews," the reporter answered shortly, shoving a quill into his hand.

Harry took a seat next to Hawk and started on the questions.

"Name, Harry Potter," he muttered to himself. "Age, sixteen. Height...height? Hawk, how tall am I?"

"I dunno," he answered. "I'm six-foot three, and you're a lot shorter than I am."

"You probably five foot eight," J.P. said, leaning around Hawk to talk to Harry. "Because you're about an inch shorter than I am, right?"

"Ok," Harry said, scribbling it down and reading on. "Weight...uh oh." He didn't know that one either. And why should he? There had been no reason to care before this. He looked around, trying to see who to compare himself to. Hawk and Cory were the first people he saw, but they were both taller than he was. Harry and J.P. were almost the same height, but J.P. wasn't as scrawny.

"Terry, how much do you weight?" Harry asked, feeling stupid.

"Um..." he started. "I don't know..."

"How can you two not know these things?" Cory asked in disbelief.

"Here," Hawk said, reaching over with his pen and scribbling down the number one hundred and twenty three on Harry's paper. "Don't worry about whether it's right or not. Cory's the only one who cares."

Harry laughed and continued on. Thankfully, he didn't need clarification on any of the other questions. They seemed rather pointless though, and Harry wondered who would care what his favorite colour was, his hobbies outside of Quidditch, or what his ideal vacation would be. He felt very inexperienced when he wrote down the previous teams that he'd played for. He'd only played on one, but as he looked over at Hawk's sheet, there were at least a dozen different names.

"What are you all putting down for 'choice career if you couldn't play Quidditch'?" Harry asked a few minutes later. Having been raised in the Muggle world, he didn't know many careers for wizards.

"If I hadn't come to this camp I'd be working in the Beast Division at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Hawk said proudly. "I'd be off in New Zealand studying dragons if they hadn't accepted my application."

"I'd be doing something in International Magical Co-operation," J.P. answered.

"Doctor," Terry replied shortly. Ron shook his head.

"I'd be a reporter," Logan said.

"What about you, Cory?" Harry asked. Hawk laughed.

"Are you kidding? If he couldn't play Quidditch, he'd be teaching it."

In a few minutes every interview had been handed in and the two Daily Prophet employees were gone.

"So what do we do now?" Harry asked as the coaches began exiting the pitch. Just as he said this, Swan walked over to them.

"Whatever we want," Cory said happily.

"Don't forget to pack," said Swan, who had overheard what they were saying. "You have to be out of your rooms by eight."

"Do we?" Harry asked Ron. "How are we getting home?"

"No, we get to stay until tomorrow afternoon," Ron answered. "And we're taking the bus home."

"Who's up for some swimming?" Hawk exclaimed. There was a general consensus, but again, Swan cut in.

"I'd advise you be back in the manor by five. There are still team managers and representatives that want to meet with you."

But even with the pressure of impressing some of the top figures in National Quidditch looming on the horizon, Harry and the others could help wanting to have a little fun. So, they spent the entire day on the beach, swimming in the sea, flying over the water and trying to push each other into it. By four thirty, however, the sky had clouded over and the wind had picked up and become very cold. Once changed and dry, the entire team met back in the entrance hall to decide where they would spend their time, as all of their families and girlfriends had left earlier that day. As most of them didn't want to be bothered with fans and autographs (Cory and Hawk were the exception) they headed off together to the secluded sitting room that Ron had discovered earlier that summer. It was very comfortable, Harry thought, to be sitting in front of the fire, warming up as he watched numerous chess games going on. Ron was easily one of the best players there, and was only beaten once, by J.P. Not that the others hadn't tried. Cory especially was committed to winning, but his chess skills just weren't up to par.

"I wonder when we're going to talk to those scouts," Teddy said when the clock on the wall chimed half past five. For the third time in a row, Cory's king was knocked off the board, this time by one of Ron's knights.

"I'm going to go check," Ron said, standing up.

"No!" Cory said loudly, jumping up and grabbing Ron's arm. Ron looked at him, shocked. "I want to play again. Let Teddy go, he asked first."

"That'll make him look nosy, whereas I'll look like the responsible host." Ron grinned. "Don't worry, I'll kick your butt later."

Ron rushed out the door before Cory had a chance to protest. Angrily, he slumped back down into his chair and glared at the board.

"I'll play you," Harry said, sitting down opposite Cory. To his surprise, Cory was just as bad as he was, if not worse. Within fifteen minutes, Harry closed in on Cory's king with a pair of very rowdy knights and a rook that appeared to have serious anger management problems.

"He's beat you man," Hawk said, looking over Cory's shoulder at the board. Cory had been staring at it for five minutes, trying to plan his next move.

"You mean it's a checkmate?" Harry exclaimed, unable to hide his happiness.

"Yeah, you won," Hawk said, making Cory scowl and pushed his chair back angrily. At that moment, Ron burst through the doorway.

"Ron, I won!" Harry exclaimed.

"Good job," Ron said unconcernedly. "The scouts are going to be here soon."

Every head turned in his direction. Cory had even forgotten about loosing for the fourth time in a row.

"Yeah, they've been negotiating for hours about who they want to sign on and with what team," Ron continued. "They're divvying you up between them."

Harry sat silently as the rest of the team all began talking quickly, wondering who would be signed up where and who they hoped to be with. He couldn't really think of anything to say. What he wanted more than anything was to sign up with a professional Quidditch team and become, as Swan had said, one of the best Seekers in the world, but there was another, more reasonable part of him that knew it wasn't possible. He was just starting his sixth year at school and was never going to have time to keep up with his studies and play at the same time.

"So do you all have sports agents?" Ron was asking. No one did.

"At this point, any deal is better than no deal," Logan answered. There was a murmur of agreement.

"Yeah, you can always work up from what you're given. Money is money."

"But don't you ever worry about not getting what you're worth..." but Ron stopped at that and instead looked at the doorway. Harry turned to look as well and saw a man standing in the doorframe. He might have thought the man was just another guest had he not been staring at a clipboard, putting a few final touches on something he had been writing.

"Is there a Jeremiah Stanton here?" he asked, looking up from the board and into the room. Jeremiah jumped slightly when he heard his name. He stood up slowly, looking very unsure of himself.

"Just this way please," the man said, letting Jeremiah pass before turning around and following.

"Was that Absalom Thaceray?" Ron asked Harry in a hushed whisper.

"Who?" Harry replied.

"Absalom Thaceray," Ron repeated. "He's the manager and CEO of the Appleby Arrows."

"That'd be perfect for Jeremiah," Kamel said. "He lives right near their home stadium."

"I hope I get a chance to talk to him," J.P. said. "He was a really great Keeper once."

For the next few minutes everyone tried to act normal, but it was obvious that Jeremiah's sudden removal from the room had upped the tension. When a plump woman with a clipboard appeared in the doorway, everyone stopped moving.

"Could I have Terrence Whittaker?" she asked politely, smiling at the group. Harry looked over at Terry, whose eyes had widened to the size of Galleons. His knuckles were white, he was gripping the chair so hard and he was looking at the woman as if she were some sort of dangerous monster.

"Do I have the right room?" she asked, looking at them again.

"Terry," Harry hissed. "Go on, she's asking for you."

"He's right here," Ron said, pushing Terry up out of the chair.

"Follow me, please," she said with a smile, turning around. Terry took a step forward and fell flat on his face. Teddy scooped Terry up just before the woman turned around to see what the noise was.

"Are you alright?" she asked, noticing the anxiety on Terry's face.

"Super," Terry said, in a voice very unlike his own, and he followed the woman out the door, stumbling along the way.

"What team was she from?" Harry asked Ron once Terry had disappeared around a corner.

"Pride of Portree," Ron answered quickly. "She was wearing purple robes with a star on them. That's their uniform, see."

Within minutes, another woman came to the door. This one wasn't old and plump, but was young and pretty. Cory, sat up in his chair and ran his finger through his hair. Harry snorted, and looked away to avoid Cory's angry stare.

"Miss. Zampowick, could I see you please?" she asked. Amy smiled and followed her out the door. Cory slouched back down again, looking disappointed.

"She was from the Harpies, Cory, you didn't have a chance," J.P. said, smacking Hawk in the ribs, as he had burst out laughing as soon as the woman had left.

"That's the team that hires only witches right?" Harry asked Ron, who nodded.

"He does that every time he sees a girl," Ron said, staring at Cory in amused disbelief. "He runs his fingers through his hair. If I did that I'd be bald."

"Cory will never go bald," Hawk said to Ron, having finally regained his voice. "He takes good care of his hair. You should see all of the products in our--" but he stopped and ducked as Cory swung out to smack him on the head. "Wash, rinse, repeat, isn't that right?" he laughed, jumping up out of his chair as Cory lunged at him. The room rang out with laughter. Cory was fuming at Hawk, who was keeping an armchair between him and his friend just as Jeremiah reentered the room.

"Guess who just got signed onto the Arrows' second line up!" he exclaimed happily with a large smile on his face. The talking started at once. Everyone wanted to know when he was going to be starting, what they were going to be paying him, and whether he knew who else was going to be signed up to that team. Jeremiah didn't have a chance to answer though, because a man walked into the room, wanting to see Kamel and Stanley. A few minutes later, Terry and Amy walked back into the room together. Amy looked ecstatic, and Terry looked very relieved. Amy had been signed onto the second line of the Holyhead Harpies.

"What about you Terry?" Ron asked him as Terry sat down.

"She wanted to sign me onto the second line as well," he replied. "And she kept hinting that I'd get promoted very quickly." He paused, staring at his shoes.

"Don't tell me you didn't sign on," Ron said, looking at him in disbelief.

"Is it because you want to be a doctor?" Harry asked.

"But this is the chance of a lifetime!" Ron exclaimed heatedly, throwing up his arms. "I can't believe--"

"Ron, calm down!" Terry replied, looking surprised. "I signed on with them. Besides, my dad would have killed me if I hadn't."

"Oh," said Ron. "Well, congratulations."

"But what about being a doctor?" Harry asked. "Are you signing on because you want to play or because your dad wants you to?"

"Don't worry, this was my decision," Terry said, looking very proud of himself. "I'm still going to be a doctor, but I'll need to money to get to med school. So, if I play for a few years, then I'll be able to pay for it myself instead of asking my parents for money."

"I still don't see why you want to be a doctor..." Ron began, but Harry nudged him and pointed at the door.

"Ron, it's Lockley!" he whispered. Matameo Lockley, the manager of the Chudley Cannons had just walked in. Ron went pink and sat up, watching the man intently.

"I'd like to see..." he said, staring at the clipboard. "Cory Rodricks, Jean-Paul Malcotts, and Rodney Nack-Nacko--"

"Nackoronty," Hawk said, standing up. Lockley smiled.

"Yes, that's right. Would the three of you come with me please? That's right, just this way," he said as he ushered them out the door and down the hall.

A few minutes later a man, who Ron identified as the head coach of the Wimbourne Wasps came asking to see Teddy, and ten minutes after that a representative of the Falmouth Falcons took Logan and Charlie out of the room. Within minutes all three of them were back, beaming broadly and telling everyone that they had been signed on. None of them, it seemed, wanted to stick around and wait for Cory, Hawk and J.P. to return, so Harry and Ron were left alone in the room.

"Where'd everybody go?" They turned to see Hawk walking into the room with Cory and J.P. behind him.

"So what happened?" Harry asked as they sat down.

"Lockley gave the three of us contracts," Hawk said proudly. "But he doesn't know whether or not we're going to play on the first line or the second. He's going to decide that after he sees us play with the rest of the team."

"That's awesome," said Ron, not completely able to hide the jealous look in his eyes.

"But, if the three of you are good enough to play on the first line, why would you sign up with the Cannons?" Harry said, choosing his words carefully, as the Cannons were Ron's favorite team. "I mean, of all the teams in the league, they aren't the best..."

"Which is probably why Lockley thinks we're good enough to play on the starting line-up," J.P. answered reasonably.

"Plus, we'll get a lot more publicity if we sign up the Cannons," Cory answered. "I mean, you never read about the reserve players in the papers, no matter how good their team is."

"How did the three of you manage to get signed on together?" Ron asked.

"Ronny, my friend, let me teach you a lesson in marketing," Hawk said in a very paternal way. "Managers like Lockley aren't just looking for players who will win games, they're looking for players who will sell tickets."

"Yeah, that's one of the Cannon's real problems," Cory explained. "No one wants to see them play." Ron coughed, but Cory ignored him. "You can't really relate to a bunch of players who look pretty hopeless. It's all about showmanship."

"Plus someone's got to break their loosing streak," Hawk said with a grin. "And it'll be us."

"So has anyone come to see you yet Harry?" J.P. asked.

"No, but I figured as much," he replied, not sure whether he was disappointed or relieved. "I mean, I'm only sixteen right? It'd be hard for me to train and go to school at the same time."

"I don't know, Viktor Krum could do it," Hawk answered with a shrug.

"I wonder how the people who didn't make the first or second cut are feeling," Ron said thoughtfully. "It must not feel very good to see what they missed out on."

"There's always next year," Cory said with a shrug. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Harry Potter?" came a voice behind them. They all turned to see Lockley standing in the doorway again. "Could I see you a moment?"

"Sure," Harry said, standing up.

"Good luck," Ron whispered, giving his a thumbs up.

"Actually, if you'd like to come with us Mr. Breazley," Lockley said. Ron looked at him in surprise but shrugged and got up as well. "Just this way, boys," he said, pointing them down the hall. They walked for barely a minute when Lockley stopped in front of a door that said Conference Room Three. He opened the door and let them inside.

A very large round table filled the room and by the looks of it the space was normally used for business conferences and things of that sort. Harry and Ron sat down in chairs closest to the door and Lockley walked around the table to sit opposite them. For a few moments they sat in silence as Lockley flipped through his papers. Then he looked up and smiled.

"You've come a long way Harry, from the boy that I was picking up from King's Cross. And so have you," he said, turning to Ron. "I don't think Swan's ever hired an assistant who's kept the manor running as well as you have." Ron's ears turned pink. Lockley turned back to Harry.

"Yes, you were a good choice for this team," he said amiably. "However, I'm sorry to say that we don't have a position open for you at the moment."

Harry nodded dumbly. It wasn't really a surprise to him, but it was a bit of a let down.

"That isn't to say there won't be one soon," Lockley continued. "I'm hoping to be able to offer you a position within the next year or two. The problem is that you are still a student, and yes, I know I told you weeks ago that the youngest professional player was sixteen, but at this time I don't think that you're ready to take on a career and finish school at the same time. But I would like to keep in touch and keep training you," he said to Harry's great surprise. "You have a lot of talent and I'd like to see you wearing Cannons robes someday."

He gave a winning smile before turning back to his notes.

"Now Ronny," he said, still looking at his clipboard. "Mr. Swan tells me that you haven't had any formal training this summer, is that correct?" Ron nodded. "And yet you were still able to put on an amazing performance yesterday. How was it that the Bulgarian players couldn't keep up with you?"

"Er...well," Ron began. "I think it was because I didn't really know what I was doing, I guess."

"I see..." Lockley said, a grin playing on his face. "I suppose that makes sense, they were expecting someone more predictable." He laughed merrily. "Ronny, you really do have a very individual style of flying. Keep it up; I'd like to be in contact with you as well. You two might be playing together again sooner than you think."

He smiled as Ron went bright red.

"Well, if there's nothing more I'll be leaving," he said, standing up, but Ron spoke up.

"Mr. Lockley?" he said, sounding very nervous. "My name's not Breazley. It's Weasley. I, er, I think you'll need to know that, you know, for the future..."

"Is it Weasley then?" Lockley asked, and Harry noticed he sounded more amused than surprised. "Well I'll be in contact with you both then. Good day to you." He shook both of their hands and gestured towards the door. For a moment Harry and Ron stood outside the door in silence. Then they both burst out laughing, and didn't stop for a long time.

Dinner in the camp cafeteria was louder than usual, owing to the fact that the Quidditch players were trying to make the most of their last night at the manor. The house-elves had really outdone themselves on the meal selections and for an hour and half Harry and the rest forgot about what was coming, But, when Chilesworth appeared in the doorway, they knew the meal was over.

"So we're supposed to get our bags and stuff now, right?" Logan asked Ron.

"Guess so," Ron replied, heading out of the room with the rest of them.

Harry stood next to Hawk in the entrance hall. Hawk stood with his hands on his hips, looking around at the room. He gave a great sniff.

"I'm really going to miss this place," he said. Harry looked around too. The previous members of the All England Quidditch Team continued to zoom back and forth in their picture frames.

"I wonder if they've put our pictures up yet," Harry said, staring at the many frames. Just as he thought this, Cory shouted from across the room.

"Guys, check this out!" he exclaimed. Everyone rushed over to a spot near the foot of the staircase. Harry looked at the picture frame that Cory was pointing at. In the center of the frame, bigger than the rest of the photos, was the picture that had been taken earlier that morning of the first line. There he was, standing in the center of the picture next to Cory. There was a smaller picture of the second line and the coaches on either side of it. And, plastered throughout the frame, were pictures that the photographer had taken throughout the summer.

"Oh would you look at that," Logan cried angrily. Harry looked at the photograph he was pointing at. It was of the three Seekers, him, Patch and Logan, trying out the Wronski Feint for the first time, when they had all flown headfirst into the water. They all laughed as they watched Logan, who was closest to the camera, plummet down and hit the sea with a tremendous splash. Thankfully for Harry, he could barely be seen in the picture, as he was far off in the distance. That wasn't to say there weren't any embarrassing pictures of him. The photographer had included a picture of the team during their standing lesson, and Harry was at the center of it, fast asleep where he stood. There was also a picture of them running laps, with Harry and Cory in the lead, glaring at each other. Peering closer, Harry realized how stupid he looked, fighting to be at the head of the pack.

"They stuck in a picture of us playing football!" Stanley exclaimed happily.

"And he put in pictures of us flying in the rain," said Jeremiah. It was true, and there had to be more pictures of storms in this frame than in any of the others. There were a few pictures of them flying across the Irish Sea on their first day at the camp, and many more of the Beaters, Chasers, and Keepers during that one particularly stormy week when the Seekers were practicing in the basement. Terry grimaced at a picture of himself almost being swept into the stormy sea. To his left, Harry heard Cory start laughing.

"Hey Harry, look at this one," he said, pointing at a picture in the top corner of frame. It was of Harry, at the very end of the second exhibition game he had played. The picture showed Patch catching the Snitch, and then Harry, glaring at him, before running head first into the giant scoreboard. Everyone laughed, even Harry, deciding that it looked more painful than it actually was.

For at least another fifteen minutes they all stood around the pictures frame, watching it as if it was a television, and reminiscing over the events of the summer. Then, slowly, they all headed up to their rooms to retrieve their belongings. Harry and Ron, who were both staying another night, helped Terry collect his things and bring them all down to the entrance hall, where they found Swan and the coaches all standing and waiting. When everyone had gathered, Swan gave them all a short goodbye speech, followed by much hand shaking and congratulating before the coaches all disappeared back into the manor and the players headed outside. Harry and Ron stood on the edge of the dock, staring out at the setting sun, which was casting red and gold streaks across the sky.

"Some summer, huh?" said Ron.

"Some summer," Harry agreed. "One minute we're hopping off the train..."

"The next we're professional Quidditch player," Ron said. They grinned at each other.

"Not yet boys," Logan grunted behind them. He was shoving a large trunk onto the dock. "You might have a contract and get some shiny new robes, but you need a lot more than that to be a real player. All you've been given is a chance," he said, straightening up and dusting his hands off. "Now it's up to you to make something of yourselves."

"Since when are you a philosopher?" Hawk asked, coming up behind them. Logan shrugged.

"So where are you headed off to now?" Harry asked, as the rest of the team gathered around.

"Home," Cory answered, staring off over the water.

"Yeah, home for one beautiful day of rest," Hawk said. "Then it's off to work again on Monday."

"Already?" Harry asked. "Didn't you just get hired?"

"That's the world of professional sports my friend," Hawk said sagely. "Not a moment's rest."

For a few minutes they continued to talk, then the team members began Dissaparating.

"Make sure to write, eh?" Teddy said, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"I'll tell you all about the professional leagues," Terry said, pulling the strap of his duffle bag higher on his shoulder.

"Good luck," Harry said, and he waved as his friends Dissaparated.

"Ron!"

"Oh no..." Ron moaned. Both he and Harry turned around to see Amy rushing forward. To their surprise, she stopped just in front of him and stuck out her hand.

"It's been really great getting to know you this summer," she said with a smile.

"Er...you too," Ron said. Amy smiled more broadly.

"My parents are expecting me home right now, but I'll write to you," she said before flinging her arms around his neck. Ron choked and stumbled backwards, and would have fallen off the dock if Harry hadn't grabbed the sleeve of his robes and pulled him back upright. Amy let go of him and smiled, calling out a hurried goodbye to everyone else before disappearing on the spot.

"Five Galleons says you get a letter by Monday," Harry said with a grin as Ron massaged his neck.

"You should take advantage of that Breazley," Logan said with a wink. "Good luck to you boys."

"It was nice meeting you guys," J.P. said cordially, shaking both Ron and Harry's hands as Logan Dissaparated behind them. "Maybe we'll play together again someday."

"We will when we're all Cannons," Ron said excitedly.

"By the time you both get there I doubt you'll be able to keep up with us," Cory said. He laughed at the affronted looks on Harry and Ron's faces. "I'm joking, joking! For sixteen year olds you're both pretty good."

Ron opened his mouth to comment but Harry shook his head: coming from Cory, that was high praise.

"Oh, I'm going to miss you all so much!" Hawk exclaimed, pretending to burst into tears. He grabbed the three of them in a big bear hug while J.P. laughed.

"Well, we're off," Hawk said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. He stood up straight and saluted them. J.P. and Cory both smiled and waved before the three of them Dissaparated, leaving Harry and Ron alone on the dock.

Even though there were still numerous guests in the manor, it felt strangely empty now that the Quidditch players had all left. When Harry woke up the next morning, it took him a while to remember why Terry's bed was empty. The small tables had been removed from the camp cafeteria and were replaced by the long picnic tables. The door was closed and locked, so Harry and Ron ate in one of dining halls, a particularly nice one that happened to be full of very stuck-up foreign tourists who they had a good time laughing at. Their laughs didn't last very long though; as soon as they finished their meal a pair of house-elves skipped into the room, beckoning them out to the hall.

"Mr. Swan wants sirs to have all of sirs' luggage in the entrance hall in five minutes," one of them squeaked.

"Is you wanting us to bring it down for you?" the second piped in.

"Sure, if you don't mind," Harry replied. The pair beamed widely and disappeared down the hall in a flash. By the time they reached the front hall, their trunks were waiting for them, with Hedwig and Pigwidgeon sitting comfortably in their cages.

"We be leaving you now, Mr. Breazley," one of the house-elves said with a bow. "We has rooms to clean."

"Carry on then," Ron replied. Both elves bowed and whipped up the stairs so quickly that they were barely visible. Harry looked over at Ron, who was gazing up the stairs after them.

"Don't tell me you're going to miss them," Harry said incredulously.

"You know, they really aren't that bad," Ron answered. "Once they stop threatening you with sharp objects."

"Harry!" Harry turned around to see who was calling him. Viktor Krum was walking across the hall towards them.

"I just vanted to congratulate you on vinning," Krum said, holding out his hand.

"Thanks," Harry replied, shaking it. Ron glared at Krum. Thankfully, the Seeker didn't notice.

"I haff to go now," he said. "De ship is leaving soon. Vould you say hello to Hermy-own-ninny for me?"

"We'll try to remember," Ron said bitterly. Krum gave him an appraising look.

"I hope ve play again someday," Krum said before turning and heading out the door.

"Gentlemen," said Swan's voice from behind them. "It's time to leave."

Harry and Ron pushed their trunks out the large front doors and down the path to the dock. There was a boat waiting for them there. They piled everything in before climbing in themselves. Swan got in after them and tapped the side of the boat once with his wand. It gave a great lurch and sped off, making large waves across the still water. Harry turned around and looked over his shoulder at Codelsbey manor, it's dark brick walls rising up menacingly through the ancient trees. He watched as it grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared behind the horizon.

There was a Knight Bus waiting for them near the rickety old dock on the mainland. A kindly old wizard with short white hair greeted them and loaded their luggage into the bus. It looked like the same one they had ridden two months earlier, with bunks beds and a compartment at the back, in which Swan locked himself for the entire ride. The conductor had many complements for them and wanted to know all about their summer so, they told him all about it. Harry felt slightly nervous distracting the conductor while he was driving, as more than once the bus had to swerve to avoid hitting things Harry could barely see as they sped past.

When they finally screeched to a stop in the dank alleyway where they had caught the bus earlier that summer, Harry was immensely relieved. Both he and Ron climbed out quickly, thankful to be on solid, stationary ground again.

"I'll get your trunks, lads," the conductor said with a smile. Harry nodded and headed forward to walk through the graffiti covered wall that separated the alley from platform nine and three quarters. He sped up a little, as he normally did when walking through apparently solid walls, and ran headlong into solid brick. Harry staggered back, holding his nose, which felt like it was broken.

"You can't just walk through this one, laddie," the conductor said as Ron laughed. "We couldn't just have any Muggle who walks in here on their cigarette break lean up against the building and fall through into our world. Here, you see this?" The conductor pointed at a word painted on the wall. It said Wiz. "You tap the dot of the 'i' with your wand three times, see, then you can walk through."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, giving Ron an icy glare, and tapped the wall three times. On the third tap his arm went straight through. Deciding it safe to proceed, Harry stepped through quickly and found himself on the platform.

It looked strange with the lack of the usual hundreds of students and parents that they normally saw. It was almost completely deserted, except for a wizened old wizard who was sweeping the floors, looking like he might fall asleep leaning on the broom, and two mechanics who were giving the scarlet steam engine a once over. Harry wondered why they were doing this, and suddenly realized that he would be going to school the next day.

"Here you go, then," the conductor said, pushing the trunks through the walls. "Mr. Swan will be out in a few minutes to see you off."

"Ginny, you did remember to purchase enough bottles of armadillo bile didn't you? You know they said you'd need almost twice as much this year..."

"Yes mom," came Ginny Weasley's exasperated voice. Harry turned to see Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione entering the station through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. A few moments later Mr. Weasley appeared, pushing a dolly for their trunks.

"Ron! Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, rushing forward to hug them both.

"Hi," Harry said with a smile, happy to see familiar faces again.

"Oh, you've both grown so much!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"Mom, it was two months!" Ron exclaimed incredulously.

"Well it's good to have you back," Mr. Weasley said. "Now where are your brothers?"

"Fred and George?" Harry asked. "Are they coming?"

"Why?" Ron wanted to know.

"They have an interview in an hour at Gringotts," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding very bitter.

"A job interview?" Harry asked. "What, is Gringotts thinking of hiring them?"

Mrs. Weasley frowned, but Ginny piped in.

"No, they're negotiating the terms of a loan," she said excitedly. Mrs. Weasley's frown deepened. "They need the money to buy a store on Diagon Alley. They're going to open their joke shop soon!"

"When are they getting here?" Ron asked, obviously excited by this news.

"They're Apparating," Hermione explained. "They just passed their test a little while ago, so they decided to get some practice by joining us here. They should arrive any min--" but just as she said this there was a popping noise and George appeared out of thin air, landing right on Hermione's head. A second pop and Fred materialized on the tracks, right in front of the Hogwarts Express, giving one of the mechanics such a fright he dropped a hammer on his foot. Mr. Weasley sighed and shook his head, but Mrs. Weasley was much more severe.

"FRED!" she shouted. "Get OUT of there! What would happen if that train started moving? And George, get off of Hermione! Honestly I don't know how you passed that test!"

Fred scrambled off the tracks while George pulled himself off of Hermione and helped her back on her feet. Then he turned to Ron.

"Ron, why didn't you tell us you were going to camp?" he asked irritably.

"Yeah, you could have invited us!" Fred exclaimed heatedly as he joined the group. Ron opened his mouth to reply but stopped because Stan Swan had just entered the station and was walking up to them.

"That's the manager," Ron hissed to the rest of them. "His name's--"

"Hello Aethelstan," Mrs. Weasley said warmly. Harry looked at her. It took a second for him to realize that she was talking to Swan.

"Hello Molly," Swan said quietly, his cheeks turning slightly pink. Harry stared at him. Surely this couldn't be the vindictive, domineering manager that he'd known all summer? Mr. Weasley coughed rather loudly. Swan turned sharply to him.

"Arthur," he said gruffly. Mr. Weasley glared back in response.

"It was so good of you to take the boys this summer," Mrs. Weasley cut in, shooting her husband a swift look.

"It was my pleasure," Swan said turning back to her. "They're both very talented. Your son did an excellent job as assistant manager."

Ron's mouth fell open. Harry understood his confusion. Not only did Swan know that Ron was Mrs. Weasley's son, but he had just complimented Ron on his work that summer, something he definitely wouldn't have done while at the manor.

"I'm glad to hear it," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. Mr. Weasley scowled again. "Unfortunately," she continued, "we're going to have to leave right now. They're starting school tomorrow and neither of them have their supplies yet."

"Don't worry about that, the camp took care of it," Swan said. "We preordered all of their school supplies and had them sent to the Leaky Cauldron. As I understand it, you'll be staying there this evening."

"Yes, we all will," Mr. Weasley said sharply. Swan shot him an angry look.

"I simply meant--" but Swan stopped. There were two pops and a pair of Ministry wizards Apparated. One was middle aged, with neatly parted greying hair, the other was young; he looked barely a year out of school and he was holding himself with an air of extreme importance. He reminded Harry a lot of Percy.

"Can I help you?" Swan asked curtly. The younger wizard stepped forward.

"We're from the Improper Use of Magic Office," he said smugly. "We're here to collect Ronald Weasley."

"May I ask why?"

"Mr. Weasley broke the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery numerous times this summer," the older wizard said, stepping in front of his young assistant. "It is our duty to inform him that he is expelled from one Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and we must take him back to our head office for proper sentencing."

"But that's impossible! He'd never use magic" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed anxiously. Harry and Hermione both looked at Ron, was staring pale-faced at the Ministry wizard, apparently at a loss for words.

"There must be a hearing, or something we can attend, to discuss our son's case!" Mr. Weasley said angrily, his face turning red.

Harry looked pleadingly at the wizards. Were they going to snap Ron's wand like they did to Hagrid? How could they do it? Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without Ron...

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but there isn't anything we can do," the wizard said. "While on the Isle of Mann, your son performed numerous spells--"

"Now see here!" Swan shouted, but Hermione cut in.

"The Isle of Mann?" she repeated. Her voice was shaking slightly but she was staring determinedly up at the wizard's face. "But, the Ministry of Magic doesn't have any jurisdiction on the island." The wizard frowned at her and stared down at a notepad the he had brought with him. No one said anything, so Hermione continued.

"We learned about it in History of Magic, when we were studying goblin rebellions. Aldous the Arguable, a goblin rebel, was sick of having to live under Ministry rules while in England. When the Ministry didn't answer any of his threatening letters, he rallied together a large group of goblins that raided and destroyed many northern villages to make their point. The Minister of Magic that was in charge back then decided to allow him and his supporters to live on the Isle of Mann, which was decided to be out of Ministry Jurisdiction, so they could do what they want. Technically, Ron was allowed to practice magic on the island. The Ministry laws don't apply there."

The older wizard stared at her. Harry felt relief washing over him. It was lucky that Hermione paid attention in Professor Binns' classes. Ron, on the other hand, still didn't look relieved. His face was an odd, whitish green colour.

"Wait!" the younger wizard said, snatching the note pad out of his partner's hand. "It says right here, Ronald Weasley used a Summoning Charm to load trunks into a boat on the first day of his summer vacation."

"But he didn't perform that charm in England," Swan said, glaring down at the younger wizard. "He was waist deep in the water when he performed those charms. Ministry jurisdiction ends at the shoreline. You of all people should know that, Vandermeer." He turned to the older wizard, who chewed his lip. "He wasn't doing magic in England, he was doing it into England."

"But it says here--"

"No, Swan's right!" Harry exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "Because I was with him when he did it. He fell into the sea, and I almost fell in too."

The younger wizard was looking from Swan to Harry angrily, as though they had deprived him of a real treat.

"We have to take him anyways," he said finally. "We're under orders from the Ministry--"

"You can go and tell the Ministry that if they want to expel this boy they will have to deal with me," Swan said menacingly. The young wizard stopped talking and stared up at Swan, looking almost fearful. "Any magic that he did was closely monitored by myself and by other fully qualified wizards who had given him permission to do so. And if you have a problem with that," he leaned so close to the wizard that their noses were almost touching, "you can get your head of department to talk to me. It's Unwin now isn't it? Yes, I know him well, and he knows of my ties with Department of State Security. You tell him that Stan Swan says hello, he'll understand. Now get out of my sight."

The young wizard gave Swan an angry look before Dissaparating along with his co-worker. Swan turned back to Mrs. Weasley and gave a small smile.

"I should be off. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Molly. Oh," he said, turning to Ron. He dug his hand into a pocket in his robes and pulled out a large bag. "Your pay for the work you did this summer. Good day to you all." He nodded at them and disappeared.

"Ron, are you alright?" Hermione asked, shaking his arm a little. Ron was still staring at the spot that Swan had disappeared from, looking shocked.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said. "That was a close one."

"Mom, you know Stan Swan?" Fred breathed, turning to Mrs. Weasley. Arthur Weasley snorted.

"His name isn't Stan Swan," he said vengefully. "It's Aethelstan Swanwiche. He was at Hogwarts at the same time that we were, but was two years ahead of us."

"He was in Ravenclaw," Mrs. Weasley said, frowning at her husband. "And he was a very good Quidditch player. He was a nice boy, very shy and very smart." Mr. Weasley snorted again.

"He was a loner," Mr. Weasley said. "And he fancied your mother."

"He did?" exclaimed Ginny.

"No way," said George.

"He never liked me much," Mr. Weasley said with satisfaction.

"Mom, did you ever..." Ron asked.

"Ron, don't pry," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding suddenly stern. "But I have a few thing I'd like to ask you. Like why you were doing magic this summer. You nearly got yourself expelled!"

"Mom, I had to--"

"You HAD to? You've never needed magic on vacation before, what makes this so special? You nearly ruined your life Ron..."

"Come on," Hermione said with a grin, pulling Harry along with Mr. Weasley, Ginny and the twins, who were heading to the barrier dividing platform nine and three quarters with the rest of King's Cross.

"Mom, I'm SORRY!" Ron shouted as he ran up to walk with Harry and Hermione.

"Why did you have to use magic anyway, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"It's a long story," Ron answered irately.

"We'll tell you all about it later," Harry said with a grin.

"I should hope so, I've barely talked to you all summer. I read the article about the camp this morning," Hermione said.

"Yeah, there was a big piece about you Ron," Fred said with a grin. "The heroic young assistant manager of the All England Quidditch Team. Enforcing rules, organizing games, bossing around all of the players..."

"You sound like Percy," George said.

"I do not!" Ron said angrily as the twins laughed and crossed into the Muggle world.

"Can I see the article?" Harry asked.

"I left it in the car that Mr. Weasley rented," Hermione said. "You can read it when we get there though. But you have to tell me everything that happened. It must have been exciting."

"It was," Ron said as they walked up to the barrier and waited for Ginny and her father to pass through. Just as Harry prepared to slide through the barrier, Ron spoke again.

"Oh, and Hermione? Vicky says hi."