Harry Potter and the Lost Prophecy

Chapter 8:

Quidditch Trials.

Harry walked quickly down the stairs and into the common room. Hermione and Ron were sitting in front of the fire, talking quietly to Ginny and Neville. They looked up, smiling at him as he passed. He waved as he slipped out of the portrait hole and headed down to Dumbledore's office. His hand slipped into his pocket, checking that the mysterious book was still there. He had taken it from his trunk after settling the first years in. They were a likable lot, although they seemed to be a bit of a handful. He had noticed that the number of students had increased over the last few years. One look at Hermione though made him think he may have gotten off easy - she had ten girls to take care of, and she looked utterly worn out.

He pondered this, then shrugged. It was yet another matter to discuss with the Headmaster. He left the Common Room quickly, lost in his own thoughts, and before he realized it, he was standing at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

Harry bit his lip, realising that yet again that he was unaware of the password.

"Umm, Sugar Quill?" he asked tentatively.

The gargoyle remained unmoving.

"Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans? Ice Mice? Pepper Imps? Fizzing Whizzbees?

The wall slid open, revealing a staircase which spiralled slowly upwards. It led Harry to Dumbledore's office door and he knocked politely.

"Enter!" a voice from inside commanded and he pushed open the door.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, quill scratching on a piece of parchment.

"Ah, Harry," he began, putting down his quill. "Have you had a pleasant summer?"

Harry nodded slowly. His stomach twisted in guilt. He hadn't contacted Dumbledore from the Burrow as he had meant to. He hadn't told him about the meeting with Voldemort. He bit his lip, and Dumbledore gave him an encouraging nod. Suddenly the words came tumbling out and he explained everything that had happened during his encounter with Voldemort.

As he finished, Dumbledore looked at him over the top of his glasses.

"Well, Harry, I must tell you, I am disappointed that you chose not to tell me this before now." However, I was informed of this meeting by an operative who has been working in the area. As I was assured of your safety, it did not seem necessary to question you. I cannot ignore the truth of this matter, though, Harry - if he tries to contact you again, you must come to me immediately. Now, may I see this book?"

Harry handed it over wordlessly, thoughts swimming in his mind. Dumbledore had operatives? In Little Whinging?

"Hmm," Dumbledore said, opening the book and flicking through the pages. "There's nothing written here except for a number of squiggly lines on the front page."

Harry leant over the desk, glancing at the writing.

"Devouring time," he read, "blunt thou the lion's paws,

And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;

Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,

And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood."

Dumbledore looked at him in surprise.

"You can read this?" he asked, curiously. "How interesting! If I am not mistaken, this is written in Parseltongue," he was looking at Harry in surprise, but Harry was watching the book in amazement.

"Look!" he said, pointing.

A spidery scrawl had suddenly appeared across the pages, filling the book with small, cramped handwriting.

"A safe guard, so that only a fellow Parselmouth may read it," Dumbledore muttered to himself. He adjusted his glasses on his nose, and slowly read the first page to himself, looking slightly taken aback. He looked up at Harry, an unreadable expression etched across his wrinkled features, and sighed.

"It was inevitable you would find out at some point...if only he could have waited until you were older..." he trailed off, scrutinising the book in front of him. "However, I suppose there is no better way of being told a story than from the horse's mouth."

He handed the book back to a confused Harry. Slowly, he opened the book to the first page, and began to read aloud.

"August 12^th, 1958. This is the diary of Eleanor Mary Potter. I am 17 years old and in my final year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am the only child of William and Isabelle Potter, and sole heir to the family fortune, which I don't want..."

Harry trailed off.

"Who was she?" he asked, a chill settling over him.

Dumbledore paused, before answering. "She was your Grandmother, Harry. I knew her well. She was a lovely child."

Harry felt a warm feeling of surprise in his stomach, and inwardly marvelled at the revelation. Grandmother. His Grandmother. Someone whose blood ran in his veins. He wondered, briefly, whether he'd seen her, along with the cluster of family, in the Mirror of Erised during his first year.

Suddenly a thought struck him.

"But, how did Voldemort get her diary?" Harry asked, gazing suspiciously at the diary. "And why was it written in Parseltongue?"

Dumbledore looked away, avoiding Harry's questioning gaze. "Read it, Harry. It will... answer your questions."

Harry stared at the Headmaster, surprised by his reaction.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "When you are finished, come back and see me, Harry. I will try to answer any questions you may have, as best I can." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "There were a few small matters I would also like to discuss, if you don't mind, Harry."

Harry looked at the book longingly, then slid it into his pocket. He could read it later.

"To start with, your vision," Dumbledore continued.

Harry cringed at the memory, but recounted the vision and his visit to the Ministry of Magic.

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, Cassandra had been in contact. I feel, if you are willing, we should pursue this idea. Any weapon against Voldemort is valuable at this time. She will be a welcome presence in the school, although I fear Sybil will feel as though her territory has been invaded."

Harry nodded, pushing his feelings of mistrust towards the Seer aside, and noted down the times he was to meet with her, as Dumbledore read them out to him. He would have a hectic schedule this year, with his extra lessons, and O.W.L. studies. Not to mention his prefect duties, and being Quidditch captain. And, strangely, he felt the need to keep a close eye on the first years.

"Professor?" Harry asked suddenly, as the thought struck him. "I was wondering why there are so many first years this year. There are eighteen in Gryffindor alone!

The headmaster smiled happily. "Yes, it's wonderful, isn't it? I believe it's commonly known among Muggles as a 'baby boom'. When you, and your older classmates were born, Voldemort was in power. It was a time of terror, so few families chose to bring children into a world of chaos. Also many witches and wizards were killed by Death Eaters, so the population plummeted. It is only since Voldemort's downfall that the population had increased. So, there are more second years than thirds, and more in first than in second. It is a marvellous thing. The wizarding world can only thrive when the population is healthy and plentiful. That is the downfall in Voldemort's plan. To destroy Muggle-born witches and wizards would reduce our numbers drastically. Every family, no matter how 'pure-blooded' they claim to be, has Muggle blood somewhere along their ancestral line."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"Now," Dumbledore continued. "One final matter. I'm sure you understand that additional security precautions will be needed this year. We have Dragons stationed at the gates. The shielding charms in place around Hogwarts have been strengthened. But in addition to this, you will need to be further protected."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore quickly continued.

"I know you feel that you are capable of caring for yourself, but you need to think about those around you. Now that Voldemort has his body back, everyone is in danger. Particularly those you care about."

Harry sighed. "I know," he replied, feeling the weight of their safety on his shoulders.

Harry paused. "Professor?" he asked, finally. "I was wondering... why you allowed the children of Death Eaters to return this year. Isn't it a bit dangerous?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. But we cannot judge people on their relation to others. You will learn in time, Harry, that prejudice is the root of all suffering. It can cause terrible things."

He looked into Harry's eyes, and Harry wondered yet again whether Dumbledore could read his mind.

"For instance," Dumbledore continued, "I am sure that you've felt the need to live up to the reputation that your father had - and he was one of the kindest and bravest wizards I've ever known. Mr. Malfoy, on the other hand, may be nothing like his father. But think how awful it would be if everyone expected you to be a Death Eater. What would you do?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Well, I guess I'd do what everyone expected. It'd be easier. I wouldn't be letting anyone down."

"Exactly," the Headmaster said with a smile. "And so, the only thing we can do, is to not expect the worst from people. Trust is a marvellous thing, Harry. Only when we show trust will others show it to us."

Harry nodded, slowly. Trust. Something he was now so reluctant to give.

Dumbledore continued. "This is a time of great trial and we need to be united. Each student may be a member of different houses, just as we all have different backgrounds. But they are all students of Hogwarts, and as such, they are all family. Tolerance begins at home, Harry. And here we can set the example."

***

"Hurry up, Harry!" Hermione called over her shoulder as they dashed towards their Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "We're going to be late!"

It was the second week of classes and they had been stopped yet again by the Head Boy, Roger Davies, who had prattling on about house points and prefect duties. By the time he had finished it was almost time for class, which was across the other side of the school.

They rushed into the classroom just as the bell rang and Harry sank into his seat next to Ron, who gave him a questioning look.

"What happened to you two?" he asked.

"Prefect stuff," Harry answered, making a face.

"Oh," Ron replied, turning to stare at the blackboard.

Harry glanced over at his best friend. He'd been so moody lately. Distant. Harry was worried, but it was just another addition to the heavy weights that already rested on his shoulders.

Besides, Harry reassured himself, it was probably just nervousness over the Quidditch tryouts in a few days.

"Right!" a sharp voice cut through his thoughts. "When you've all finished your nattering, we'll begin."

Harry turned his attention to the front of the class and his jaw dropped open.

"You!" he exclaimed, almost falling out of his seat in surprise.

"Hello, Harry," Arabella Figg replied, smiling slightly as she looked at him over the top of her granny spectacles.

"What are you doing here?" he spluttered. "Why- who-"

Hermione turned to him in alarm and he could feel the curious gaze of his classmates on him.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

Harry stood up quickly, almost knocking over his chair. He folded his arms and glared at the Professor.

"This," he said through clenched teeth, "Is Mrs. Figg. She's my neighbour! She used to be my Muggle babysitter." His voice rose slightly in pitch, but he didn't care.

"I don't believe this," he continued hotly. "You've been lying to me? All this time I thought you were just a slightly eccentric, bad tempered old woman with too many cats. You-you complete and utter--" he struggled to find the right word.

"Witch?" Professor Figg suggested with a smile.

Harry scowled, and sunk back into his chair. "Something like that," he muttered under his breath.

Ron sniggered quietly.

"I'm sure it's come as a bit of a shock to you, Harry," Professor Figg continued, "I was placed nearby as a ...safeguard." She smiled suddenly. "And, technically I never lied to you. After all, you never once asked me if I was a witch."

Seamus Finnegan began to laugh, quickly turning it into a cough as Harry glared at him.

Harry met Professor Figg's eyes and scowled. Then in spite of himself, he smiled.

"Right," the Professor said, clapping her hands together loudly. "As you have now gathered, I am Professor Figg." She gave Harry a pointed look, then continued. "I'm here to make sure you all have a firm grasp of how to defend yourself against the Dark Arts. I understand that, in the past, you've had a number of...unusual professors teaching you. I suggest that you put that all behind you. I presume you're all serious about passing your O.W.L's?" She paused, and the students nodded cautiously.

"Well then, it's going to be hard work. You'll be sweating blood by the end of the year." She glanced around at the class. "Now, can anyone tell me what you've already been taught?"

Immediately, Hermione's hand shot up into the air.

***

Gryffindor Quidditch Tryouts:

Will take place on Saturday the 14^th of September. Students should sign the sheet below and be on the Quidditch pitch with their broomsticks promptly at 3pm.

Harry Potter, Gryffindor Team Captain.

Ron finished reading the notice Harry had just tacked to the wall, and held his hand out for a quill.

He signed his name with a flourish, handing it back to Hermione, who smiled at him.

"Nervous?" she asked, as they headed towards the Charms classroom.

"No!" Ron replied emphatically, then paused. "Well, it depends how you'd define 'nervous'. If you mean, butterflies in my stomach, then no. But if you mean feeling like I'm about to be mauled by an Acromantula, then, yeah, I guess I am."

Harry laughed. "You'll be fine, Ron. You're a good player."

Ron smiled wryly. "Well, we'll find out soon enough, won't we?"

"Of course you'll make the team, Weasel," a cold voice drawled from behind them.

"What do you mean by that, Malfoy?" Harry asked, as they turned to face the Slytherin boy. He tried to remember everything Dumbledore had said about giving people an equal chance, but Draco Malfoy had a certain quality that made Harry want to punch him without needing a reason.

Malfoy sneered and continued. "Well, he's obviously going to make the team, whether he's any good or not. His brothers are Beaters and his best friend just happens to have used his fame to become captain. No," he continued, turning to Ron, his voice harsh, "I'm sure you'll get onto the team with talent alone."

Ron flushed a deep angry red. "Eat dung, Malfoy!" he snarled.

Harry and Hermione glared at Malfoy, each grabbing one of Ron's arms.

Malfoy smirked, and walked away. He paused, then gave a loud cough that sounded an awful lot like "Nepotism."

Ron looked like he wanted to punch the wall. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances and led him quickly away, changing the subject in the vain hope of distracting their friend from his rage.

***

Saturday rolled around all too quickly. Harry awoke at dawn to find Ron's bed empty, and he dressed hurriedly, leaving to search for his best friend. He wasn't in his usual spot by the fire in the common room, so Harry left Gryffindor Tower, and hurried through the school. Instinctively, he headed out towards the Quidditch pitch, and found Ron standing at the entrance to the pitch, staring up at the stands.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Harry asked, coming up to stand by him.

Ron smiled back, and nodded wordlessly.

"I meant it, you know," Harry continued. "You really are a good player."

Ron bit his lip, and turned to Harry. "Malfoy was wrong, wasn't he?" he asked, hesitantly. "You're not just going to let me on the team because of the twins, and our friendship?"

Harry looked at him in surprise. "Of course not! I can't believe you think I'd actually do that!"

Ron smiled. "I know. Just...be harsh on me, yeah? I only want to be on the team if I'm the best. It'd be... wrong otherwise."

Harry nodded. "Of course. And it's not my decision, anyway. We have a team vote."

Ron smiled, taking a deep breath. "I think I can stomach breakfast now."

Harry grinned. "When can you ever not stomach breakfast?" he asked, laughing as Ron shoved him playfully.

They made their way back up to the castle, bickering cheerfully.

***

...Mother was terribly upset with my marks in Defence Against The Dark Arts. She told me to ask the professor for additional help, but I could never do that. Professor Riddle scares me. He very rarely smiles. And he always shouts at the other houses when they get something wrong. I'm glad I'm in Slytherin. He's our head of house, so he hardly ever gives us detention. Sometimes, I see him looking at me, and his eyes have a strange glow to them. It worries me sometimes. And sometimes it intrigues me...

Harry put the diary down. Professor Riddle? It couldn't possibly be...

Tom Riddle.

Voldemort.

He couldn't have been a professor at Hogwarts. Surely Dumbledore would never have allowed it. After the incident with the Chamber of Secrets, all those years ago, surely Dumbledore had suspected. And if so, why would he place Riddle in such an influential position?

He sat in silence, wishing for the first time that he had a Pensieve to put all these new thoughts in. He finally understood what Dumbledore had said the previous year, about having too many thoughts and memories crammed into his mind. He stared into the fireplace, lost in thought, questions swimming in his brain.

"Harry! It's time!"

Harry looked up from his thoughts, to find Hermione tugging on his sleeve.

"What?" he asked momentarily confused.

Hermione made a small noise of exasperation. "Quidditch trials?" she asked. "Remember?"

Harry shot out of his chair. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to three."

Harry sprinted upstairs, and grabbed his broom, taking the time to slip the diary under his pillow. Then he hurried back down, ushering Hermione through the portrait hole.

They were halfway to the pitch before he turned to her. "Where's Ron?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hyperventilating. The twins are trying to calm him down."

Harry smiled, and they strode across the pitch. A large group of students were gathered in the centre. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnett, the remaining Gryffindor chasers, hurried towards them.

"There are an awful lot people here," Katie said, in awe.

"Well of course there are!" Fred exclaimed, hurrying over to them. "We're the best Quidditch team Hogwarts has seen in years! Everyone wants to be a part of the Dream Team!"

George laughed, "That's us. Talented, undefeatable and--"

"Ever so modest," Alicia broke in, giggling.

Harry laughed at his team mates and glanced around at the crowd of students.

He spotted Ron standing with Seamus and Dean who were also trying out. Ron looked up, and nodded slightly. He looked like he was about to be violently sick. Harry smiled to himself, and let his gaze wander around the stands. He spotted the first year boys huddled together, and Harry waved in acknowledgement, his smile fading as his gaze drifted over to where Cho Chang was sitting with a group of Ravenclaws. She waved at him and Harry frowned to himself, turning away. Seeing her just reminded him of Cedric. And he needed to concentrate on the task at hand.

He quickly organised the competitors into teams, and the trials began.

Harry flew high above his housemates, watching them fly. He smiled to himself as Ron swiftly dodged a Bludger and threw the Quaffle past Ginny, scoring for his side. Harry hadn't been lying. Ron really was a talented player.

Slowly spiralling downwards, he noticed Hermione sitting in the stands. He started to wave to her, but she was looking towards the other end of the pitch. Harry followed her gaze, seeing Ron as he flew a lap of honour. Hermione's eyes were shining with an emotion Harry couldn't quite define. He almost fell off his broom as a surprising jolt of jealousy hit him. Confused, and a little scared, he turned and flew in the opposite direction, turning his mind back onto the tryouts progressing below him.

Two hours later, the trials were over and Harry had sent everyone back to Gryffindor Tower. Ron grinned at him as he walked past, and Harry smiled back, ignoring the brief pain in his heart as he remembered Hermione's face as she'd watched him fly.

The tryouts had been long and tiring, and Harry was shattered. When the last of the students had dispersed, Harry lead his team to the changing rooms, where they all collapsed, exhausted.

"Well," Harry said reluctantly, wishing he could just go to sleep, "I guess we should think about who we want on the team."

The others nodded and Harry looked at the girls. "The Chaser position should be decided by you. I mean, you're going to have to work with them the most."

Katie and Alicia exchanged a look.

Then they glance over at the twins, who were smiling hopefully.

There was a long pause.

"Ron," they said in unison, causing the twins to whoop with joy.

Harry looked at them both levelly. "Are you sure?"

Alicia nodded. "He was the best. Ginny was good, but I think she's more suited to Beater or Seeker. And Seamus was good, but...again, I think he'd be a better Beater than a Chaser."

"There were some good third years trying out," Katie added. "But they worked better as a team within themselves than with us. They'll be good for the team next year."

Harry nodded. "So, the new Chaser will be Ron," he said, repressing the urge to smile, imagining his best friend's reaction. "Keeper?"

Fred frowned, "You know, I thought Dean Thomas was very good. And he said something about it being similar to when he used to be a, erm, a Goaler."

"Goalie," Harry corrected, smiling at Fred's mistake. "What does everyone else think?"

"I think Ginny was good!" George said hastily, elbowing Fred who nodded too.

Katie shook her head. "I don't think so. She let too many Quaffles past. She'd be good as reserve, but Dean's much more focussed."

Alicia nodded in agreement, and Harry turned to George who finally nodded.

"Which leaves the Reserve," Katie said. Fred opened his mouth and she cut him off. "That's two votes for Ginny," she said, giving the twins a pointed look, "I, however, think Seamus was a much better all-rounder."

Alicia shook her head. "Young Natalie McDonald was pretty good too. What do you think, Harry?"

Harry frowned in thought. "Natalie will make a good Chaser next year, but...I think it's between Ginny and Seamus as Reserve. And...I vote Seamus," he said, ignoring the indignant looks from Fred and George.

Fred turned to Alicia. "You're the deciding vote then," he said. "No pressure."

Alicia snorted. "Not much!" She paused, obviously thinking very hard about the decision.

"Ginny," she said, finally.

Katie buried her face in her hands. "It's the invasion of the Weasleys!" she moaned, as the twins began to cheer loudly. "But I agree. She was good."

Harry grinned. Ron was going to be over the moon.

***

Harry slid into his customary seat at the Gryffindor table. Next to him, Hermione smiled, nudging him slightly. Almost all of his housemates were staring at him expectantly.

He grinned. "The new team list will be posted immediately after dinner," he announced.

There was a pause, then a quiet buzz of excitement as everyone began to eat very fast, talking loudly as they did so.

Ron had paused with a chicken leg halfway to his mouth when Harry spoke.

"Well?" he asked after a moment.

Harry smiled slyly. "You'll just have to wait until I've finished my dinner."

He began to eat his lamb chop slowly, chatting to Hermione, who was trying not giggle. Ron glared at Harry, before turning back to his meal, eating as quickly as possible.

He finished, and watched impatiently as Harry chewed on a carrot.

Hermione began to giggle as Ron shifted impatiently in his seat while Harry dug his spoon into his pudding. Eventually Harry put his spoon down with a sigh. "I can't eat with you looking at me like that!" he said.

Ron continued to stare menacingly at him.

Harry grinned, "Come on then," he said, standing up, and walking from the Great Hall. The rest of Gryffindor House rose too, following behind him like baby ducklings following their mother.

From his seat on the staff table, Professor Dumbledore smiled.

***

Harry couldn't breathe. He was being squeezed rather hard by a large, excited red head who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Ron!" he wheezed, his arms flailing wildly. "Can't. Breathe!"

Ron released his friend, smiling apologetically. "Sorry! I'm just so happy!!"

He turned and grabbed Hermione, swinging her around. She laughed, then blushed as he set her back on the ground, smoothing down her skirt and blouse.

Ron moved on to his brothers and Ginny, and was suddenly engulfed in a huge family hug.

Harry laughed, moving over to where Hermione stood, watching their friend.

"Hmm, do you think he's pleased?"

Hermione laughed. "Just slightly."

Harry grinned.

"You need to make the announcement," Hermione said. "Congratulate the new players, commiserate with everyone who didn't make it."

Harry frowned. He hated making speeches. Hermione nudged him and he reluctantly climbed onto a chair.

"Can I have your attention for a minute?" he called, and the room slowly fell silent.

"For anyone who hasn't seen the new team list, Ron Weasley will be joining us this year, replacing Angelina Johnson as Chaser. The position of Keeper will be played by Dean Thomas. And we've also decided to add Ginny Weasley as team reserve this year, in case one of us can't play."

Ginny blushed brightly as people patted her on the back.

"Congratulations to you all!" Harry continued. "It was an extremely hard decision, as we had a number of excellent players trying out. Please don't be disheartened. And I hope you will all try out again next year, when we will -finally- be losing our Beaters and remaining Chasers." He ducked as Fred threw a Canary Cream at him.

He straightened up, laughing. "As we will be tragically losing our seventh years," he amended hastily, "there will be four positions open next year. So, practice, practice, practice!"

He jumped off the chair. Everyone was busy digging in to the feast the twins had brought up from the kitchens.

He was about to join in when he noticed Seamus Finnegan staring at the fire.

"Hi Seamus," Harry said, sitting down next to him.

Seamus looked up. "Oh. Hi, Harry."

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. His question was met with silence.

"It was a very tough decision. But Ron was just slightly better as Chaser."

He thought he saw what looked like a flash of anger in Seamus' eyes, then it was gone.

"You should try out for Beater next year. I think that position would suit you better anyway."

Seamus smiled. "Yeah, I think I'll do that."

Harry grinned. "Coming to join the party then?"

Seamus stood up. "Of course! Wild hippogriffs couldn't keep me away!"