Simon says...

Harry felt his heart drop. Just now he had been the happiest person on earth, only to find out that the only person he currently could talk to was a Lestrange. Harry glanced back at the Slytherin team he had just been a proud member of, shouldered his Firebolt and stalked off the field. No one seemed to care about his early parting. He had no idea where to go. He felt like crying, though he didn't really know why. His feet automatically wandered to the Owlery, the only place that would be deserted at this time. He sunk to the floor and tears ran down his cheeks. Hedwig flew down to him and nibbled softly on his sleeve. Harry looked up and patted her.

"Sorry, Hedwig. No letter for you," he whispered in a trembling voice. But instead of flying off, Hedwig stayed with him. Slowly, his anger lessened, but in its place he felt internal emptiness. He sat there for a long time, trapped in lethargy. Only when the sun dyed the sky a gentle orange did he step up to the window and watched it set behind the Forbidden Forest. When complete darkness surrounded him, he realized that it must be very late indeed, maybe around ten p.m., and he felt hunger creep up inside him. Dinner was over and he had no stores of food in his dormitory, so he left the Owlery and went straight to the kitchens.

Countless house-elves were busy preparing the next day's breakfast. They were setting the tables, but as soon as they took notice of Harry's presence, they hurried to offer him sandwiches and pumpkin juice.

"Harry Potter, sir?" A squeaky voice was audible over the bustling.

"Dobby, good to see you. How are you?" The tiny creature was still wearing the socks Harry had presented him with two years ago, together with an ensemble of Hermione's self-knitted hats.

"Harry Potter needs to be careful," Dobby piped. "Not all Slytherins like him. He has enemies, Sir." Dobby handed him another helping.

"I'm aware of that," Harry replied, hardly surprised.

"Enemies are forging a plan," Dobby continued.

"How do you know about it?" Harry started to feel uneasy.

"Dobby hears things. But he doesn't know more. He doesn't like going into Slytherin Common Room. He's scared of them."

"Draco Malfoy?" Harry inquired. Dobby used to serve the Malfoy family under harsh conditions.

"Sh, please don't! Dobby doesn't want to hear their name."

"But the Malfoys..." Harry tried again, except Dobby refused to listen.

"Good day, Mr. Potter, Sir," Dobby interrupted him, hurt, and was gone on the spur of the moment.

Harry finished eating and then returned slowly to his Common Room. He briefly hesitated before passing the stone wall. He hardly took notice of anyone else in the room but quickly scurried to his dormitory. All his anger had returned. He hated them all. He took Hermione's homework planner and furiously threw it against the opposite wall.

***

"Harry? Is everything okay with you?" Simon was standing in the middle of the room. Harry hadn't even heard him enter. He turned to the wall, away from Simon.

"Bugger off!" he yelled.

"No, I won't," Simon answered calmly and continued to stand there, waiting.

"Your parents are responsible for Neville's parents' condition; your mother killed Sirius! She treated me like a baby! And if I could, I'd kill her too! I hate all Lestranges, I HATE THEM..." Harry screamed it all out. Someone tried to get inside the dormitory and check what was going on, but Simon slammed the door shut again. Harry fell silent.

"You didn't humiliate me enough yet," Simon said, still in an unnerving, quiet manner.

"APPARENTLY NOT; OR YOU WOULD HAVE STORMED OUT AND LEFT ME IN PEACE!" Harry carried on. But Simon kept his ground. Even another attack of cursing and swearing couldn't get him to waiver. Finally, Harry threw himself onto his bed. Huge tears were flowing down his cheeks, while he desperately tried to hide them.

"You're right," Simon heaved a sigh. "You have all the right to be mad at me because I didn't tell you my true identity from the very beginning. But you can't hold me responsible for my parents' deeds." Simon turned on the heel and left the room.

***

Harry felt terrible. All his anger suddenly ebbed away. He knew that he had done Simon wrong. He kept seeing his sad face in front of his eyes. Simon despised his parents as well, and he had a hard time talking about them. Didn't Sirius's mother and relatives practice Dark Arts without Sirius being affected? Harry shoved himself off the bed and left the dormitory as well.

Almost all of Slytherin was accumulated in the Common Room. Harry needed some time to spot Simon in the crowd. He was standing with a few fellow seventh-years around a cauldron. Harry pushed his way through a group of third-years and took a deep breath.

"Simon, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"It's okay," Simon replied, sounding surprised. "I'm used to this kind of treatment and suspicions just because of my name." Harry looked uncertainly at Simon, then quickly changed the subject.

"Thanks for your support, by the way."

"No problem," Simon smiled. "I booked the field for us for tomorrow. It's only four more weeks until the first game." Harry grinned back; he hadn't expected the training to start this early.

Simon directed his attention back onto the cauldron. Now, Harry's interest was caught as well.

"What's this?"

"This is my specialty. You have to try it once it's done."

This didn't really answer Harry's question and he looked at Simon, a little bit confused. Simon added a bit of fine, white powder and the potion turned a clear green shade. He sniffed on it and then tasted a spoonful. Then he nodded in Frederick's direction and handed him a soup spoon and a cup. When Simon pushed said cup into Harry's hand, he noticed his sceptical expression.

"Don't worry; I'm not intending to poison you."

Harry took the cup and, though still very sceptical, tasted the drink. It had a weird, sweet flavour, like cranberries, cherries and a bit of chocolate. It changed its flavour every few seconds into something else Harry really liked. After swallowing the liquid, he felt the warmth creeping up inside him.

"So?" Simon questioned him. Harry nodded appreciatively.

"What is it?" Harry inquired again and took another sip.

"Originally it was a Confundus Draught, but I worked on it until the original effect was lost."

Harry emptied his cup. The warmth spread through his whole body and, for the first time in weeks, he felt relaxed and content. Nothing could trigger any kind of anger in him now. One after the other, the students filled their cups, sometimes several times. But when Harry attempted to fill his own for the third time, Simon intervened.

"You shouldn't drink too much of this," he said with a low voice.

"No worries, I'm fine," Harry ensured him.

"I don't doubt that, but you might experience a hangover tomorrow morning."

But Harry simply ignored Simon's warnings. He was having a good time, even with Draco, he had had just as much of this new drink as Harry, who he suddenly got along with. Though, he could later not remember what they actually had talked about. Around three a.m., Simon sent everyone to their respective dormitories and Harry immediately fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

Shortly before lunch, Draco shook Harry awake. His head felt as if a huge drum roll had played next to him all night. He dragged himself into the bathroom and, still half asleep, slipped down to eat something. But he couldn't get a single bite down. How should he manage being fit and about until three-thirty this afternoon?"

After just sitting in the Common Room for a long, long time, Harry felt his headache reside. When it was time to go to the training session, he still felt slightly dizzy but fairly all right. Despite his teammate's sick condition, Simon seemed to be in good spirits and immediately started to talk them through various strategies. Shortly afterwards, they went out onto the field to practice the new moves.

Only when Harry was lying on his bed later that night, exhausted and thinking about the fantastic day, he remembered his date with Hagrid. He decided to stop by tomorrow noon; everyone could forget an appointment once in awhile.

Hagrid, however, seem to have taken the missed meeting personally. He acted strange, and Harry didn't stay long.

***

The next weeks, Harry spent a lot of time practicing Quidditch and brewing potions twice a week with Simon or studying their theory as often as possible. His homework suffered quite a bit; he often spend long nights on his desk, trying to do his best, which consequently resulted in weary and tired lessons during the day.

Near the end of September, Harry received a letter. Unsurprisingly, he checked it several times, as he couldn't imagine a single person writing to him at this moment. Lupin turned out to be the sender.

Hello Harry,

You will surely be surprised to receive a letter from me, but I'm tired of hearing complaints of your current behaviour. I understand that you are undergoing difficult changes in your life and will have a hard time adjusting to recent events.

Ron and Hermione are missing you terribly. They feel guilty for your present situation, but every time they try to come close to you, you turn them down in a very cold manner. They are waiting for a sign from you.

Your disagreement won't solve itself. Try to talk to them. Ignoring them and pretending not to be interested in their friendship any longer won't do any good nor help.

Remus Lupin

"Well, Potter got mail?" Malfoy's bored voice could be heard. Harry stuffed the letter into his bag. "Come on, let's see. Who would be writing to famous Potter?"

Harry got up from the breakfast table. "None of your business, Malfoy."

Harry left the Great Hall. Lupin was right. If he wanted to change this agonizing situation, he would have to take matters into his own hands. He settled on checking the library after his lessons to eventually run into Hermione. Usually, Muggle Studies was quite fun, but today he couldn't wait for the class to end.

***

Harry dashed to the library right after the gong had sounded through the corridors, grabbed a random book and pretended to be brooding about a very important matter. Hermione seemed to be taking more time to appear. Suddenly, she walked in as Ron's companion, who was carrying her bags, through the wooden doors. Both were talking quietly to each other. They weren't aware of him and took a seat on a table on the other side of the room. Harry slapped the book shut, returned it to its former location and walked over to them. He spoke a neutral greeting and waited for their reaction.

"Oh," Hermione said and looked at him, "hullo, Harry, how are you?"

Harry just nodded shortly. He didn't want to talk about this and changed the subject. "How is it in Phoenix?" he asked while moving closer and taking a seat.

"Superb, you know. It's really fun, and..." she faltered. "Harry, I'm really sorry. I mean, it's not our fault that you had a fight with us...and...and..." she stammered and didn't look an ounce happy. "Without you, it's only half as much fun as back in Gryffindor." Hermione was close to bursting into tears. She turned around to Ron who took her into his consoling arms.

"Hermione, calm down," he soothed. Harry felt rather uncomfortable.

"I'm just still having trouble believing that you're in Slytherin," she sighed. Ron hugged her tight and caressed her hair. Harry tried to find a calming explanation.

"It's not your fault that I'm a Slytherin now, stop worrying. I'm fine."

"Really?" Hermione seemed to relax a little and wiped her tears.

"The hat..." Ron said, "surely must have made a mistake."

Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he replied. "The hat meant to sort me into Slytherin already in first year. It didn't because I asked it not to. This time, I wasn't as successful. But that doesn't mean I'm a different person now."

"Harry, I'm so glad you said that. The others kept saying that you..." Hermione faltered.

"Who says what?"

"Not important," Ron interrupted before Hermione could say another word.

Simon had entered the library and was now approaching the little group. He beckoned Harry over to him, they spoke a few words, then Harry returned to his new old friends.

"Who was that?" Hermione asked looking after Simon.

"Simon Lestrange," Harry explained. "It's almost time for Quidditch practice."

"Lestrange..." Ron murmured.

"Stop pondering. He's a nice guy," Harry told him, guessing what direction Ron's thoughts were taking.

"Ron's playing, too," Hermione changed the subject.

Harry glanced at Ron. "Well, then we'll have to meet tomorrow on the pitch." He got up. "I should get a bite to eat. May the better one win. I'll see you around."

***

As usual on match-days, Harry woke early on Saturday morning. He knew that the Slytherin Team could win not only today but reclaim the Quidditch Cup this year. At half past eleven, he and Draco shouldered their brooms and walked to the field.

The teams stepped onto the field - Phoenix in anthracite-coloured gear, sporting a golden phoenix on their back, Slytherin in their accustomed green. All around them, the students cheered. Harry heard the magnified voice of the commentator.

"For Phoenix will be playing: Brocklehurst, Finch-Fletchley, Patil, Quick, Weasley, Baddock and Whitby. The Slytherin team are: Nott, Pritchard, Montague, Lestrange, Malfoy, Bole and Potter."

Ron and Simon, representing the captains, shook hands and the teams kicked off, soaring into the air. Harry took his position way above the other players; Whitby, Phoenix's Seeker, followed his suit. He was only a second year, but was seated on a decent racing broom, which definitely could attempt to race out a Firebolt. Harry kept his eyes out for the Snitch as he listened to the comments below. Slytherin seemed to have taken a good start; Montague had already scored twice before Phoenix found its way into the game and attacked.

"Patil throws the Quaffle to Quirk, Quirk scores! Goal and ten points for Phoenix! Pritchard regains the Quaffle, but ...ah... Baddock's well-hit Bludger distracts him, he loses the Quaffle to Finch-Fletchley, and he scores making it twenty-twenty. It keeps the match going. Patil in possession, watch it! A Bludger hit by Malfoy hits her arm. Baddock shoots another one at Malfoy. Foul..."

There was no real action for a long time. Harry started to lose his concentration. After two hours of eventless playing, the referee called a break so that the players could warm up on a cup of tea and catch their breaths. Simon instructed his team to play more aggressively. However, apparently the Phoenix team followed a similar strategy, and one foul after the other was committed. Ron was lucky and saved most penalties, while Nott did a poor job on his side. Harry still had not caught such much as a glimpse of the Snitch. He needed to hurry, as Phoenix was in a high lead by now. Finally, he spotted the Snitch no less then ten meters flying underneath him. Whitby and Harry raced towards it in unison. But the Snitch dashed further down, just as Harry stretched his hand out to seize it. Whitby was still dashing towards him, tried to slow down, but frontally crashed into Harry. Harry felt his broom lose height but managed to level it while Whitby smashed into the ground. The game had to be interrupted. Simon yelled at Nott for having his worst day, and Harry's entire body ached from the crash; he must have received a bunch of bruises.

"We will win this match, no matter what," Simon declared as they remounted their brooms.

But the match continued just as chaotic as before. Phoenix's lead increased even more, the Snitch had disappeared again, and Slytherin really had to take some action. He noticed Kevin Whitby following him uncertainly. It wasn't long before Harry felt his concentration slip yet again. He should do something before making another mistake out of lack of focus.

This would be the perfect time to try the Wronski-Feint, he thought. It surely won't even be noticed in this bedlam. Harry made sure that Whitby was paying attention to his doings and started a breathtaking dive. Whitby followed him on his heels. But while Harry managed to level his broom shortly before hitting the ground, Whitby had to cope with another bone-splintering crash.

The game was haltered once more and Madam Pomfrey had to fix Whitby's broken arm. Ron, who naturally guessed Harry's fake dive, advised his Beaters to keep a closer watch on Harry. This led to Malfoy and Bole reacting with the same measures and even more fouls.

Dust started to set it when Harry was hit for the umpteenth time by a Bludger and flew a bit higher. Suddenly, he saw the Snitch again - all the way on the other end of the field and he saw Whitby, who was only five meters away from it. He chased after it, knowing chances were almost zero.

But then a Bludger swished past him, pursued by Malfoy, who gave it a hard smack into Whitby's direction. The young player was hit on the shoulder and almost fell of his broom. Harry didn't get any of this. His eyes were fixed on the tiny golden ball, not wanting to lose sight of it again. Pressed flat onto his broom, he sped towards it, closely chased by Whitby, who had regained control. Both reached for the Snitch, and this time Harry's longer arm was successful. The explosion of the Slytherin students was huge. They had won - two hundred forty to two hundred ten.

This match had been the hardest, most unfair and longest Harry had ever played. He dismounted his broom and joined his teammates to celebrate their victory.

*** TBC ***

Next: tutoring, rivalry and a speech