Harry Potter and the Sticking Broom

Chapter 3: The Hogwarts All School Team

Three Gryffindors walked side by side to the Quidditch pitch that afternoon. Harry Potter, the only one of the three to have been summoned to the sporting ground, carried his Firebolt. Ron Weasley brought Omnioculars. Hermione Granger, feeling very hot and bothered, held under her arm a large, antiquated library book entitled Concoctiones That Will Hurte and Harme. With her free hand, she brushed her shaggy brown fringe out of her eyes, saying, "I hate hot weather."

"Well, let's hope it's nice and cool in Xanadu, or wherever it is you're off to with Snape," teased Ron.

"Uluru," Hermione corrected him. "But it's first prize. So I'm not going there, am I? Anyway, it's in Central Australia - in a desert - and it's winter time there. So, I really have no idea how hot or cold it would be."

"Australia?" Ron's eyes widened. "That's brilliant! You'd be able to see some of the Ashes matches. Oliver Wood's just been chosen as Keeper for England."

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said with an exasperated sigh, "even if I did win the contest, which I won't, why would I want to go halfway around the world just to watch Quidditch?"

"Why wouldn't you?" asked a dumbfounded Ron Weasley.

Harry was enjoying the opportunity to remain quiet while his friends bickered. Swinging his broom as he walked, he was thinking about Quidditch, because Quidditch had given him the happiest memories of his fifth year at Hogwarts. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had won every game in the season - its Seeker had never failed to catch the Snitch. The Quidditch Cup final had been a hard fought contest between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor that saw several players finish the game with broken bones. But even that game was won when Harry Potter plucked one hundred and fifty points from thin air.

Harry wished that everything in fifth year had been as simple as Quidditch. He was not overly confident that his O.W.L. exams had been a triumph, although given the amount of schoolwork he had missed during the Triwizard Tournament, he had expected to be a lot further behind his classmates than he actually was. At least his Defence Against the Dark Arts examination had gone well. But then, Harry's whole life had been a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.

Thinking about the Dark Arts always caused Harry to wonder about absent friends. Professor Dumbledore and Mad-Eye Moody had hardly been seen at the school that year, even though Professor Moody continued to hold the title of Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher. Professor Snape had been a very willing and brutal substitute teacher for most of Moody's classes. Harry had no way of telling what Dumbledore was up to, since the Daily Prophet had been eerily silent on anything relating to "You-Know-Who" all year. It seemed the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was a far more conscientious censor than he was a statesman.

Hagrid had also been away a long time. Harry hoped Hagrid's "negotiations" with the giants in France were progressing without too much bloodshed.

Finally, Harry wondered about his godfather, Sirius Black. It was nearly summer holidays again. Ever since third year, when Harry had discovered that he had a godfather, Harry had spent the months of May and June wishing and praying that he could spend the summer with Sirius Black. However, at the end of every June he returned to his odious Muggle relations, the Dursleys. This year, rescue by Sirius seemed a particularly hopeless dream, because Harry did not even know where his godfather was. The last owl Harry had received from Sirius had been in April, with a warning that Harry should not try to contact either his godfather or Remus Lupin.

While he hoped that Sirius was just trying to be protective, Harry felt a knot in his stomach every time he wondered when, or if, he would see his godfather again. And, worse than merely feeling worried for his absent friends, Harry felt to blame as well. They were all far away, fighting a silent war. It was a war that Harry had started. He felt that he had no right to remain safe at Hogwarts while so many of the men he admired and trusted were risking their lives.

The number of people waiting at the Quidditch pitch surprised Harry. It appeared that Angelina had invited the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and even Slytherin teams down to the ground as well. Ron and Hermione sat on the grass to continue their debate on the merits of international Quidditch, while Harry went to stand with Katie Bell, Colin Creevey and Alicia Spinnett.

"How's the arm, Alicia?" Harry asked his teammate, who was wearing a sling.

"Still hurting," she replied. "You have no idea how long bones take to heal the Muggle way."

"Serves you right for being resistant to brachium reparare charms. And allergic to Skele-Gro," said her friend Katie.

"Harry," asked Colin excitedly, "did Angelina tell you why we're all down here?"

"No," Harry answered, looking around at all the other house teams. Standing alongside Harry was the Hufflepuff team, who had been formidable in defence in the Quidditch Cup final. Their captain, Keeper and Hogwart's Head Boy, Merlin Rhys-Jones, was a tall, solid youth. Merlin was joking with his equally muscular Beaters, Melchior Tubbs and Balthazar Bart. The Ravenclaw team members, who had finished last on points, were standing quietly to one side. Their pretty Seeker, Cho Chang, was talking with Ravenclaw's captain, a blonde Beater of imposing stature named Hyperion Fairchilde. Finally, skulking in a huddle and scowling at the other teams were the seven boys from Slytherin. Harry envied Slytherin's brooms, which were all new. One of their Chasers, a self styled aristocrat from third year named Mordred Avery, even had a Firebolt 1500. It was faster than Harry's broom, but as Oliver Wood always used to say, "It's the people you put on the broom that matter most." Ultimately, despite a great deal of foul play, Slytherin had only finished third in the school competition.

In the distance, Harry could see the Gryffindor Beaters hurrying towards the ground. Fred and George Weasley seemed to be coming from the direction of Greenhouse Two, which was odd as neither of them took Herbology. They arrived, out of breath, and even more confused than Colin about the number of people waiting for Angelina.

"What's this lot doing here?" Fred wanted to know.

"Angelina didn't say," said Katie Bell, "but she did tell me to bring my broom. Where are yours? And your bats?"

"We didn't seem to get the whole message," said Fred, shooting an accusing glance at Hermione Granger. Hermione had given up on her argument with Ron and was now showing him some of the more grotesque illustrations from her library book. The friends were alternately giggling and pretending to throw up.

"Well, at least she doesn't want to talk about feathers," whispered his brother George.

At that moment Angelina Johnson swept into view, riding her broom at high speed from the castle. She stopped in front of the waiting crowd and hovered about six feet above them, as though she intended to address them like a general on horseback. The afternoon sun shone fiercely behind her and many of the students had to shield their eyes with their hands to look up at her.

"I suppose you're all wondering why I've sent for you today," she began.

"To bask in your reflected glory perhaps?" mused Fred quietly. Unfortunately, the Hufflepuff Beaters, who overheard Fred's remark, guffawed with the force of exploding Erumpents. Angelina glared in their direction.

"Professor McGonagall has come to me, well, I guess she has come to all the students of Hogwarts, with a sporting proposition." Angelina paused briefly, to let the importance of her remark sink in, and to wonder whether her sentence had been grammatical. "The school is going to hold a Quidditch competition."

"We've already had one of those, haven't we?" Fred asked George.

"We did. We won," George answered, blinking in the bright sunlight.

"A competition," Angelina continued, trying to ignore those idiot Weasleys and rally her troops, "which will raise money for St Mungo's Hospital. There will be a tournament of three games, all held in the last week of the school year. Tickets will be sold to the public. There's going to be advertisements in the Daily Prophet, pre-match entertainment, the works. We're going to field an all school team."

Harry's mind raced. If Hogwarts was forming an all school team, whom would they be playing? He wondered whether it would be like the Trwizard Tournament, and remembered with relief that Viktor Krum was now too old to play for Durmstrang.

"Who are we playing?" Merlin Rhys-Jones' voice boomed out.

Angelina looked a little embarrassed. There was really no easy way to say this, she thought, so she might as well get it over with. "We're playing the teachers," she admitted.

Fred Weasley let out a whoop of joy, as most of the assembled teams dissolved into mirth. From within the Slytherin knot, Mordred Avery jeered in his high pitched, affected lisp, "You can't be therious. How can we be ecthpected to play premium Quidditch againtht those old doddererth?"

"Thimply do your betht, thweetheart," Fred called back.

"I don't see what everyone's laughing about," Katie Bell earnestly confided to Harry. "I'll bet the teachers' team's captained by Madam Hooch, and she's brilliant on a broomstick." Harry merely nodded. Everybody knew that Katie was Madam Hoochs' teachers' pet. Personally, Harry couldn't see how the teachers (who, Madam Hooch aside, were as unathletic a group of individuals as he could care to imagine) would be able to put together a team that would even stay in the air, let alone play Quidditch.

"All right. That's enough! No need to carry on like a bunch of flipping Jarveys! Especially you, Fred Weasley!" Angelina shouted. "Sure, it isn't going to be the toughest competition most of us have faced this year. But there will be a lot of people watching, and probably press coverage too, so we need to do our best." Privately, Angelina hoped a few Quidditch talent scouts would be watching too. It would be nice to have a second club make a bid to recruit her for next year. Maybe she could play them off against the Harpies and raise her signing fee.

"And if it's for St Mungo's, it'll be for a good cause," Merlin Rhys-Jones added.

"Yeah, er, thanks Merlin," said Angelina, a bit shamed by his altruism. "So, I guess all that remains is for me to announce the student team. Obviously, this year one team dominated the Quidditch Cup. If I had my own way, you know the easiest thing would be to pick all the players from Gryffindor."

"She's quite the diplomat, isn't she?" George Weasley facetiously asked Balthazar Bart, who merely grunted.

"But our opponents in the final," Angelina continued, "were pretty impressive, at least in defence. So Merlin, I was hoping you'd Keep."

Merlin Rhys-Jones nodded in assent. Harry looked at Colin Creevey, Gryffindor's Keeper. To Harry's surprise, the small, mousy haired boy was nodding vigorously too. Harry wasn't sure that Colin had enjoyed his Quidditch season. He had endured some very aggressive encounters with belligerent Chasers and murderously thrown Quaffles. In fact, Harry wondered whether the twins had been right when, shortly before the final match, they had diagnosed Colin with "Quafflephobia."

"We'll need another Chaser too, as I guess Alicia won't be fit in time," Angelina went on. "Even though we'd all rather eat Porlock poo than admit it, the Slyths have the quick brooms and we could use their speed. So Avery, you're in the team too." Mordred Avery didn't know whether to be pleased or affronted by this begrudging invitation, so he merely shrugged his shoulders.

"What a stupid choice," Alicia whispered to Katie. "He might be quick, but he can't hold a pass to save his life!"

"Well, neither can you at the moment," Katie reminded her friend.

From above the crowd, Angelina's voice spoke with authority. "The team can now stay behind and I'll give them their training schedule. Rest of you, thanks for coming," she said in dismissal.

Harry had been looking (as he often did when he thought she wasn't watching) at Cho Chang from the Ravenclaw team. She and her teammates were standing still, in silent embarrassment. "Wait a minute," Harry courageously called to Angelina, "isn't it supposed to be an all school team?"

"That's what I said," Angelina replied tetchily.

"Well doesn't that mean," the clear tenor voice of Hyperion Fairchilde rang out, "that the team should have proportional representation from all the houses at Hogwarts?"

Angelina looked furious. She couldn't stand Hyperion Fairchilde, the great intellectual snob. "Yeah, well, it doesn't take an Arithmancy genius to figure out that four into seven doesn't work," she snarled.

"Actually, that would be one and three quarters," Hyperion countered. "So each house should have at least one player on the team."

"And we'd better watch out for all those little three quarter players flying about too!" said Fred, loudly and cheerily. "It'll be worse than the Headless Hunt!"

"Perhaps we'll need to Splinch ourselves to make the team," agreed George quietly.

Hyperion, ignoring the Weasleys, looked down his aquiline nose at Angelina Johnson and said, "You need to appoint at least one player from each house."

"MERLIN'S ARSE, I DO!" shouted Angelina, who was now in a rage. There was a muffled tittering from the crowd as Merlin Rhys-Jones blushed scarlet. His Muggle father, who was a huge, rugby playing Welshman, had given the Head Boy of Hogwarts his name. Mr. Maldwyn Rhys-Jones, being a simple, direct sort of man, thought that Merlin was a fine name for a wizard. Little did he know that naming a wizard child "Merlin" was roughly equivalent to Christian parents naming their baby Lord God Almighty. The possibilities for embarrassment, particularly in the company of a girl so given to profanity as Angelina Johnson, were endless.

"Er, sorry Merlin," mumbled Angelina, thus drawing even further attention to Rhys-Jones' discomfort. "And, Fred Weasley, one more stupid remark and you're off the team!" she added with vehemence. Harry wondered at Angelina's unconcealed wrath. She had taken the responsibility of her Quidditch captaincy entirely to heart that year, and adopted stern discipline in the face of the Weasley twins' frequent joking at practice and during matches. The N.E.W.T.s also did nothing to improve her humour - Harry suspected Angelina didn't care much for studying. But after her examinations had finished, Angelina appeared to be in an even worse mood than before. Harry believed the twins had done something to provoke her, but had no idea what.

Hyperion Fairchilde, sure that mathematics was on his side, remained undeterred. He countered, "It would be a simple matter to refer this whole business to Professor McGonagall. She would be able to tell us what she had in mind."

Angelina was fuming, but she knew exactly what McGonagall would say. After all, it had been the acting headmistress' wish that all Hogwarts' Quidditch teams be assembled to select the all school team. So Angelina did not want the further irritation of letting the acting headmistress be the one to tell Fairchilde he was right. She grumbled, "I'll let one of your players on as a Chaser then."

"Hang on!" shouted Katie Bell. Angelina merely gestured to Katie apologetically. There was not much else the captain of the Hogwarts All School Team could do. Ravenclaw's Beaters (especially Fairchilde) were worse than useless. Also, there was no way Angelina was going to bump their maverick Seeker, Harry Potter, off the team.

"All right," said Hyperion. "But Cho Chang's our best flier. She's played Chaser a couple of times this season too, when we had so many injuries," with this remark, he glared pointedly at the Slytherin team. "You should let Cho play," he concluded.

"Well, if you lot insist on foisting yourselves on us," Angelina sighed. Harry was so annoyed with Angelina's rudeness he wanted to hit her, but at the same time he found the prospect of spending much of the next three weeks with Cho Chang strangely agreeable. "Now, if everyone's quite happy," Angelina said sarcastically, "I'll talk to the team. The rest of you can just bugger off, for Merlin's sake."

"Sorry, Merlin!" Fred Weasley called out in a prissy falsetto.

"THAT DOES IT!" Angelina screamed. She swung round on her broom, flying into the crowd so that she was at eye level with her fellow Gryffindors and glaring inches from Fred Weasley's grinning, freckled face. "Fred Weasley, clear off. We'll use a Hufflepuff Beater instead."

Fred's smile disappeared. "You can't do that," he began weakly.

"Just watch me," said Angelina menacingly.

"Well, actually," Balthazar Bart piped up, "you can't. Melchior and I won't be at the school during the tournament. We've got Ministry jobs which start before the end of term." The Hufflepuff Beaters were beginning their careers as magizooligists in two weeks' time. The Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had hired them to escort an immature Swedish Short-Snout from its current home in a petting zoo in Puddlemere to the Romanian Sanctuaries. The Ministry was insistent that the dragon's removal could not wait until July, as several children visiting the petting zoo had already been eaten.

"So it looks like you'll be needing old faithful Fred," cooed Fred Weasley happily.

"Dugbog's dung," Angelina snapped. "I'd rather play with a Slyth. In fact, that's what I'll do." With that, she turned her broom to face the Slytherin team. "OK, you, the ugly one," Angelina called, beckoning the Slytherin Beaters.

Gregory Goyle pointed hopefully to his chest, but Angelina merely howled in annoyance, "No! Not you! The other ugly one - with the stupid haircut - Crappe or whatever your name is, get over here."

With that, the Hogwarts All School Team was formed. Cho Chang moved over to stand next to Harry, and with an embarrassed smile, whispered, "Thanks".

Harry looked around at his other new teammates, who all looked less than overjoyed to be placed under Angelina's volatile command. He realisedthat they would need to put in a lot of work if they were going to act and think cohesively. But then, if they were only playing the teachers, how hard could things possibly be?

If the mood among the selected students was less than exultant, the mood among the students trudging back to the castle was positively black. Fred Weasley and Katie Bell were forming a bitter, whispered conspiracy, while Draco Malfoy was far more voluble in his criticism. "Gryffindor hogging the glory again - hardly a surprise," he whined. "I hope that banshee and her pathetic team fall out of the sky."