Harry Potter and the Sticking Broom

Chapter 4: His Goddess Had Feet of Clay

Poppy Pomfrey and the editors of the Daily Prophet were far more successful in inspiring enthusiasm for the upcoming Quidditch tournament than Angelina Johnson had been. The advertisement for the three games appeared the day after the Hogwarts All School Team was selected. Soon the newspaper was reporting that Celestina Warbeck, the Singing Sorceress, would be donating her talents to the noble cause of St Mungo's yet again. Her publicist informed the Daily Prophet, exclusively, that Warbeck had agreed to entertain the crowd at Hogwarts before the opening game. Kirley McCormack, lead guitarist for the Weird Sisters (and currently romantically linked to the Singing Sorceress) announced that he would accompany Warbeck. And on the Daily Prophet's sporting pages, England's baby-faced new Quidditch Keeper, Oliver Wood, was quoted as saying that he would return to his alma mater to referee the matches. Within days every ticket to all three fixtures was sold. The students of Hogwarts, at first so skeptical, found that actually they couldn't get enough of the idea of a students versus teachers Quidditch tournament.

Be that as it may, Harry Potter had had enough. The afternoon was stifling, the air so dry, hot and still that even flying at breakneck speed offered no respite from the heat. The Hogwarts All School Team had been practicing for their eighth consecutive afternoon. Rather than bringing the group together, the frequency and intensity of their training sessions was only serving to amplify the divisions in the team. Harry was beginning to appreciate what a vital piece of headgear the Sorting Hat was. It had become obvious to him that Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and Ravenclaws were never meant to work together.

He found the foibles of Ravenclaws the hardest to bear. When Angelina had been forced to accept Cho Chang on the team, Harry thought this would be the ideal way to get to know Cho better. He had hardly said a word to her this year. She reminded him so powerfully of Cedric Diggory, and the guilt that still weighed him down since Cedric's tragic death. But now that he had spent every afternoon of the last week with Cho, he realisedthat, whatever he may have believed he felt for her in the past, the truth was he never actually knew her.

The first problem with Cho was that she pushed her Ravenclaw intellect and analytical skills to unholy extremes. Cho had a passion for discussing and dissecting the set plays that Chasers sometimes used. Angelina Johnson's motto for Quidditch (and probably for life) was, "Keep it simple, stupid." While acknowledging that Chasers occasionally might be required to throw each other a pass, or to lure a Bludger off the scorer's scent, in Angelina's forthright opinion, Quidditch was a game that moved "faster than a Hippogriff with a firecracker up its bum." The Hogwarts All School Team captain saw not much point in pre-match strategy, relying on her instincts to choose the right tactic as each game progressed. To her credit, Angelina's instincts were usually flawless.

Cho, even though she felt slightly uncomfortable in her new role as Chaser, loved to strategise. And she loved to provide increasingly complex analyses of the game of Quidditch, constantly, no matter how hot it was. She had spent half an hour the day before trying to convince Mordred Avery that his inability to catch a Quaffle could be explained by the angle of elevation of the thrower, the velocity of Avery's broom and the circumference of the thrower's arm. In the end, Angelina had charged up to both of them, slammed the Quaffle into Avery's hands and shouted, "No, the reason he can't catch is because he's a hopeless little Puffskein who WON'T KEEP HIS EYES ON THE QUAFFLE!"

The other thing that had disappointed Harry was that Cho Chang was an outrageous flirt, and that Harry had never been the beneficiary of any of her flirting. True, Cho was always friendly to Harry. But she was never friendly to Harry in the same way that she was friendly towards any tall, seventh year boy who came into view. She had attended the first couple of training sessions accompanied by a very attentive Hyperion Fairchilde, to whom she waved and smiled throughout the whole practice. On the third day Angelina exploded, declared that all practices were going to take place in closed sessions, and sent Fairchilde packing. However, the flirting, even though it altered its trajectory, did not abate. On the eighth afternoon Cho was unmistakably displaying it for all to see.

Angelina had eventually taken pity on her melting team and called it quits. Flying slowly back to the castle, she noticed that Merlin Rhys-Jones, who was flying slightly ahead, was wearing Holyhead Harpies socks. She couldn't resist starting a conversation about the Harpies, so called out, "Merlin, I like the socks. Didn't know you were a Harpies supporter."

"Yeah," Merlin said enthusiastically. "My family's from Penmaenmawr, so they're the local team. My Da even goes to the games. It took a while for Mum to convert him, but so long as there's a bit of biffo, he'll watch Quidditch quite happily now."

"Do they speak mainly Welsh around your way?" shouted Angelina. "I might need you as a tutor before too long."

"It's all pretty much bilingual, but we like to speak it in the home," Rhys-Jones began, when Cho Chang flew her broom up alongside him.

"You should try to teach me too," she said breathily, placing one hand gently on Merlin's forearm. "I've always loved learning languages. I can speak thirteen, but I think Welsh is one of the most musical languages I've ever heard."

Merlin laughed amiably and before too long he and Cho were flying side by side back in the direction of the lake, repeating phrases in lilting Welsh to each other. Angelina, George and Harry flew onwards to the castle. Angelina fumed, "The last thing I need is a lovesick Keeper. What does that silly Veela wannabe think she's up to? She'd be more useful if she practiced scoring instead of bloody Welsh."

"Cho's a good filer," Harry began defensively, feeling partly responsible for Ravenclaw gaining a place in the Hogwarts All School Team.

"Now don't you start, Harry," warned George, wiping the sweat from his eyes. "It'll do you no good chasing after Chaser Cho. I'm afraid she likes her men a lot taller than you or I."

Harry set his sights firmly on the castle ahead, wondering what (aside from a pretty face, a bewitching smile and an attractive figure) he had ever seen in Cho Chang. The girl was as punctilious as Hermione Granger, but with none of Hermione's imagination or courage. And Harry thought that Cho was just as much a simpering bimbo as Lavender Brown, but without Lavender's excuse of being pitiably stupid. For more than two years, Harry had worshipped Cho Chang like a goddess on a pedestal. It had taken only eight days for him to realise that his goddess had feet of clay.

Harry's despondency was interrupted by raucous laughter erupting ahead. The Slytherin pair was much further in front and had just rounded the corner to the main entrance of the castle. Vincent Crabbe shouted out "Yeah! Good one!" while Mordred Avery continued to titter.

"Slytherins with a sense of humour?" George Weasley said warily. "This bodes very ill indeed. Better check it out, eh Harry?" The two Gryffindor boys sped towards the front of the castle.

As soon as Hogwarts' bell tower was clearly in sight, Harry realised what his Slytherin teammates had found so amusing. A large flag was flying from the tower, stretching some thirty metres from the flagpole. Even though the day was windless, the flag was fluttering freely, suggesting that somebody had enchanted the fabric to keep the banner aloft. The fabric itself was dark green, with its silver writing in a gothic style. The flag read: THE STICKING BROOM WILL GET YOU, POTTER.

"Ah well," said a disappointed George Weasley as he squinted at the sign, "I suppose, it was too much to hope that the Slytherins would have come up with anything really witty."

"But what does it mean?" Harry asked.

"No idea," George admitted with unconcern. "But you shouldn't be too bothered. Stinky broom or not, we're still going to thrash the teachers."

But Harry did continue to worry as he showered and changed from his Quidditch kit. What if this wasn't just a Slytherin prank? The last time cryptic threats had appeared on the castle's walls, the consequences had been deadly serious. He was so preoccupied with thoughts of danger and doom, he failed to notice Hyperion Fairchilde waiting outside the Quidditch change rooms. The only thing that roused him from his unhappy thoughts was Peeves the poltergeists' awful singing.

"Cho the choosy Chaser had a cheerful choice to choose,

For Cho the choosy Chaser, she knew she couldn't lose.

On one hand fair Hyperion cut a fine and fancy figure.

But Cho she chose the Head Boyo, because his neck was thicker!"

Peeves sang as he circled the hapless Ravenclaw seventh year.

"Clear off, Peeves," Harry warned. "The Bloody Baron's on his way."

"Thanks, Harry," said Hyperion feebly as the poltergeist dispersed. "You don't know when Cho's coming back, do you?"

Harry didn't have the heart to tell him that training had finished a long while ago. "I think she might still be practicing, er, something," he said, opting for an unconvincing half-truth rather than a reassuring lie. Then he made his way back to Gryffindor tower to put his Firebolt away before dinner.

Walking slowly up the Gryffindor tower staircase, Harry's mind was now filled not only with threatening omens and portents, but also with disappointment. Cho had turned out to be so far from the ideal woman he had always imagined she would be. He was so preoccupied that he bumped into Ginny Weasley, who was hurrying down the stone stairs to dinner.

"Steady on, Harry," she said. "It wasn't me this time, you know."

"Sorry," muttered Harry. Then he added, in confusion, "It wasn't you? Doing what?"

"Oh, you know," said Ginny with a laugh, her freckled nose crinkling. "Large, ominous, cryptic warnings." Her smile faded a little, but she continued, "We all saw the flag outside. I don't do that sort of thing so much nowadays."

Harry chuckled awkwardly. He hadn't had much to do with Ginny over the last three years, but Harry was pleased to see that she was brave enough now to joke about her first year at Hogwarts. He wondered how much the specter of Tom Riddle still haunted her - she was always outwardly so happy. In fact, Ginny was gaining quite a reputation as a prankster. She was regarded as the Weasley most likely to take up the jester's crown when Fred and George flew the Hogwarts' nest in a few weeks time.

"I'm not worried about the banner," Harry lied, trying to sound brave.

"Then why the long face?" Ginny asked. "I know a scowl when I see one, you know. I had double Potions this afternoon, so that particular expression is very, very familiar." She pulled a very Snape-like face.

"It's nothing," Harry began, and then realised that there was no real need for bravado around Ginny - she was a Weasley after all. He tried a more honest approach. "It's just that, I've kind of come to my senses about somebody today. It's odd." He hesitated, before deciding to tell Ginny all. "I've idolised this person - for ages. And, all of a sudden, I don't know why I ever thought they were so wonderful in the first place."

"Ah yes, well that happened to me once too," Ginny began. "I hero-worshipped this boy senselessly, but it turns out he's a proper twit."

"Really?" asked Harry absentmindedly.

"But don't you worry your silly head about it, Potter," she said. She resumed her run down the stairs, but called over her shoulder, "That boy's more interesting as a twit than a hero, anyway!" Harry could hear her giggling echoing back up the stairwell.