Disclaimer: I own nothing

Author’s notes: This is a self-confessed filler chapter (though I prefer to think of it as a transitional chapter). But the next chapter will be up by next week, in which we finally get to see Padma. Anyway, that’s about it from me since I’m going home this weekend and apparently have to help clean some lego bricks. Thanks once again to those who reviewed, especially the person who pointed out the spelling mistakes. Oh, and this is the most Quidditch you’re going to see since it’s boring to write and even more boring to read.

Chapter Five

The next day the trio looked decidedly worse for wear and each of them couldn’t seem to stop yawning as they sat eating breakfast. Hermione seemed more irritable than usual and Harry was particularly careful about what he said to his bushy haired friend.

Harry became slightly relieved when McGonagall handed them their timetables. The morning was taken up with Divination followed by History of Magic, his two easiest classes. Well, easiest in that the teachers never really paid that much attention to who was awake in their class.

Ron was looking in glee at his timetable. “Extra sleep every day,” he said triumphantly.

“What are you on about?” asked Hermione snappishly, before grabbing his timetable out of his hands. She flicked through it. “You have Wednesday morning free and the first two periods of Thursday free. That’s hardly every day.”

“Yeah,” said Ron leaning closer to her. “But, if you look more closely you see that on every other day my first period is taken up with either History or Divination – the two dossiest subjects going.”

And thus began Ron and Hermione’s first argument of the school year. It was something Harry wanted no part of and so shook his head and went back to eating his toast.

The argument still continued on when Angelina Johnson, a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, came to talk to him. The first thing Harry noticed was the shiny new Quidditch captain badge glistening on the black girl’s school robes. He immediately offered his congratulations.

“Thanks,” she grinned. “I thought I better tell you that Quidditch trials are going to be held tomorrow to replace Oliver,” she told him, referring to Oliver Wood, the previous Gryffindor Keeper who had graduated last year. “I’ve booked the pitch for twelve and was hoping you could come along since I want the whole team to judge.”

Ron had perked up at the mention of the trials and had turned away from the still ranting Hermione. “Do you have to sign up?” he asked eagerly. Ron was a Quidditch fanatic and this was the first time in the last two years that there had been an opening on the team.

“Nah,” said Angelina. “Just turn up.”

She then turned back to Harry. “So can you make it tomorrow? It doesn’t matter so much if you can’t since it’s only really the Chasers that need to properly fly, but it’d be cool if you could make it.”

Harry agreed at once. Quidditch was probably his favourite thing to do at Hogwarts and any chance to fly was appreciated, well except if it involved Oliver Wood’s exhausting practices in the pouring rain.

“Cool,” said Angelina before turning to rejoin the other sixth years sitting further down the table.

The rest of breakfast was taken up with Ron’s excited ramblings about the Quidditch trials. Harry shared in his best friend’s excitement but Hermione didn’t seem bothered, though she did agree to come and watch when Ron asked her to.

When the time came for the end of breakfast and the start of the first lesson, everyone began to make their way out of the Great Hall. Hermione, with her Arithmancy textbooks in hand, bid them goodbye. “Hope you have fun in Divination,” she said and Harry couldn’t help but feel irritated at her smug tone.

The North Tower where Divination was held hadn’t changed at all since last year. The circular tables were still surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little pouffes and the cloying smell of sickly perfume was ever-present. It felt at once as though there had been no summer holiday.

“Good day, my dears,” said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney as she emerged from the shadows of the room. She, too, hadn’t changed one iota: enormous glasses still made her eyes appear far too large for her face, chains and bangles were still draped from her thin, almost spindly body and she still peered down at Harry with the same tragic expression.

“My Inner Eye sees difficult times ahead for you... most difficult... troubles lurk ahead in the shadows. Most troubling, dear boy... most troubling...” Her voice had grown quieter as she spoke until it was but a whisper.

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who looked stonily back. Professor Trelawney swept past them and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. She then began her speech on what the year would bring.

“My dears, this term we shall delve into the movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance.” Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who greatly admired Professor Trelawney, eagerly leaned in closer to hear more.

“In the dawning of spring we shall move beyond the planetary movements,” she told them, her gauzy, spangled shawl slipping slightly down her arms. “We shall tread carefully into the realm of dreams where human destiny may await those able to pierce the veiled mysteries of the future that sleep holds firm.”

The perfumed fire was starting to lull Harry to sleep. It was especially hard to fight the heaviness of his eyes since he really didn’t care how the movements of the planets shaped his destiny or how his future might lie in dreams. It was all a bunch of nonsense.

“... the resonances of the future are unclear to me as of now. The Inner Eye does not see on command...

“But now let us turn our minds towards the future insights the planets bestow.”

The rest of the lesson was filled with speculations over what planet they were born under. They had each been given a complicated circular chart and were told to fill in the positions of each of the planets at their moment of birth. It was all rather dull and Harry was glad when the lesson finally ended and they were allowed to leave the suffocating tower.

They met Hermione outside of the History of Magic classroom. “How was Divination?” she asked, a smirk gracing her lips. “Are you still peering into ‘the Orb’s infinite depths’?”

“Nah, I think we’ve about seen all the mist we need to. We’re on planetary movements now. But Trelawney still thinks someone’s going to do Harry in,” Ron told her as he steered her towards the seats nearer the back of the room.

“That’s horrible!” declared Hermione. “I don’t know why you two don’t just quit Divination. It’s not as though you’re learning anything and Trelawney’s hardly a true Seer!”

Ron just shrugged and Harry remained quiet. “I’ll just drop it after OWLs,” Ron told her nonchalantly as Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, drifted into the room through the blackboard.

Hermione huffed but said nothing as she got out her textbook. She suddenly seemed to realise that she wasn’t sitting as near to the teacher as usual. She frowned and looked suspiciously at Ron as Binns started his long, dull speech about yet another goblin uprising.

An hour and a half later and a rather more rested Ron and Harry left the History of Magic classroom along with a disapproving Hermione.

“Honestly, you really shouldn’t sleep during a lesson. Especially the first lesson of term!”

“Give it a rest, Hermione,” whined Ron as they slid onto the Gryffindor table for lunch. “It’s not like good old Binns minds.”

“But what about your History OWL. We only have two more years and then we have to sit them and we can be tested on anything from this year.”

Ron, however, didn’t seem to care as much about his education as Hermione obviously did. “It’s only History. It’s not as though I need to know about the goblin rebellion of 1358.”

“1348,” corrected Hermione automatically. “And it’s good to know about history so we don’t make the same mistakes of the past,” she insisted.

Harry considered that for a moment as he finished eating his sandwich. “But we do,” he said.

“What?”

“We do make the same mistakes over and over again. If we learnt from our mistakes then there would only be one goblin rebellion and we’d fix all the problems with the world. We just don’t learn.”

“Yes, well...” Hermione trailed off before deciding to ignore Harry’s point altogether and start eating.

From the other side of Hermione, Ron gave Harry the thumbs up and they shared a grin.

After a quick lunch Harry pushed his empty plate away from him and started to stand up. “I better get going to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey wants to give me a detailed check-up,” he explained noticing Hermione’s look of inquiry. “I don’t know how long it’ll last, so I’ll meet you guys outside of Potions.”

Ron nodded his understanding, unable to speak with a mouthful of food, while Hermione looked at him with her brows furrowed in concern. “OK, then. We’ll see you in Potions,” she said.

Harry walked briskly towards the hospital wing, his mind dwelling on what he’d seen the night before. He was curious as to whether the curtains would still be drawn in the corner of the room.

But the hospital wing was changed from the previous evening and no curtains hid anything from view. It was almost as if nothing had happened last night. As if no dead body with a permanent look of terror had been carted in to be examined.

Madame Pomfrey was back to normal. Her neat white cap was back in place and no stray bits of hair escaped it. Her tone was back to being the brisk, no-nonsense sound Harry was used to as she cast a variety of spells and advised him to drink more water. It was only the strange look in her eyes as she dismissed him that told Harry she was still very much aware of the events of the previous night.

But Harry didn’t have time to dwell on the mystery of the dead body since he had only five minutes to get to the dungeons. He knew from many years of past experience that Snape, the Potions professor, wouldn’t hesitate to take points if he was even a minute late.

And so it was that he managed to get to the Potions classroom with less than a minute to spare.  As Ron congratulated him on making it in the nick of time, Harry bent forward as he tried to get his breath back. Hogwarts had definitely made him unfit.

As soon as Snape saw Harry he was confronted with a glare filled with such burning hatred that Harry knew he hadn’t forgotten the incident with Sirius last year. It seemed the loss of an Order of Merlin was still a sore spot with the head of Slytherin house.

Snape demanded total silence from the class as they were told to write down the scrawled instructions written on the blackboard. It was for Bulbadox Powder, a potion that resulted in an outbreak of boils. They wouldn’t actually be brewing the potion until next Thursday when they had a double period, but they were to memorise the instructions for then so they could brew it without help. It was supposed to give them an idea of how part of the OWL Potion practical would be set out next year.

It was a tedious lesson and Harry was happy when it finally ended. He wasn’t so pleased about the essay they had been set to write from homework but no one had ever called Snape a nice teacher.

Their next lesson was Care of Magical Creatures and Harry was glad to see Hagrid after missing him yesterday in the fog. He wasn’t so glad to see the creatures they were to be studying. Much as he liked the giant games keeper, Harry couldn’t share his enthusiasm for Blast-Ended Skrewts.

“Hope we don’t have to do that every lesson,” said Ron as they made their way towards the castle. All three of them had been biting their tongues to stop themselves complaining throughout the lesson out of fear of hurting Hagrid’s feelings.

“At least they’re small,” said Harry.

“They are now,” said Hermione in an exasperated voice, “but once Hagrid’s found out what they eat, I expect they’ll be six feet long.” They all shared an uneasy look as they came to a stop outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Harry then realised something. “Wait a minute, who is the new Defence teacher?”

“Weren’t you paying attention at the feast?” Hermione asked snootily as they followed the rest of the class into the room.

“My mind was sort of on other matters, actually,” he told her in the same tone.

Ron butted in then as they sat themselves down. “But he wasn’t actually present. I just remember Dumbledore mentioning his name and that was about it.”

Harry was getting fed up now. He’d asked a simple question and both his friends hadn’t actually bothered to answer it. “So what is the teacher’s name?”

“Professor Abravan.” The voice belonged to the man – obviously the professor himself – who was now standing in front of the three Gryffindors. Big, dark blue eyes were staring at them with shrewd intelligence.

The professor then turned and strode to the front of the classroom, his eyes scanning the class under big bushy brows as he took the class register. Reddish hair that had signs of greying sprung out in tufts from behind his ears. He was firmly built and wore a black cloak which showed a glimpse of a leather wand holster tied around his right arm.  

All at once Harry realised that he recognised the man. He had seen him the previous night as he helped to push the trolley carrying a dead man towards the hospital wing. Hope sparked in him that this year they had a competent teacher for Defence.

This flicker of hope grew as the teacher spoke. “It seems to me that you’re behind. Far behind if you be wanting to pass those OWLs of yours next year.” Hermione looked especially anxious when she heard that.

“It seems to me that you’ve only really covered Dark creatures, according to a-” he looked down at a slip of parchment on the desk “-Professor Lupin. But there’s far, far more to the Dark Arts than some mere Hinkypunk. Far more, I should imagine, than I can possibly teach you in a year. But I’ve always been rather a fan of a challenge.” The teacher smiled slightly, as if recognising a joke only he knew.

“Now then, for starters we’ll be beginning with cursed objects. It’s far easier to give someone a cursed object disguised as a gift than to hunt them down and curse them yerself. Harder to track, too. Now who can name me a famous cursed object?”

Hermione’s hand went straight into the air. At the same time another five or so hands went up and it was Parvati that was called upon to answer.

“The Hope Diamond,” she told him.

Abravan smiled slightly. “Still bitter over that, are they?”

Parvati gave a small nod, looking slightly embarrassed.

“It seems to me that some of you not be knowing of the Hope Diamond,” said Abravan as he spotted several confused expressions. “So why don’t you explain, Miss Patil.”

Parvati, who never really answered any questions during lessons with the only exception being Divination, looked even more embarrassed as everyone focused in on her. “Um, well... in the early seventeenth century, I think,” she looked up at the teacher to see him nodding, “someone stole the Hope Diamond – which is this really blue diamond – from a statue of the goddess Sita – she’s Rama’s wife. Anyway, when the priests realised what had happened they placed a curse on the diamond so it would bring bad luck and misfortune onto anyone who owned it.

“Very good,” said Abravan and awarded her five points. “Now any other cursed objects?”

The class was a mix of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ernie Macmillan was the next to be picked. “The Azwell Manuscript.”

“Ah, yes, the cursed Azwell Manuscript. Can anyone be telling me what else it’s known as?” Those deep blue eyes scanned the room before settling on Hermione whose hand was once again waving in the air. He gestured for her to answer.

“It’s also known as the Slytherin Grimoire since it’s supposed to have been written in Parseltongue.” Harry noticed that many eyes turned to him as Hermione mentioned the word ‘Parseltongue’.

Abravan nodded. “And does anyone know how it be cursed?”

Only Hermione had her hand up. “Well most historians believe that it was actually written by the Slytherin family and was one of the objects sold when they became bankrupt in the early 1600s. The full copy was split up into three parts and the pages were switched around. It’s then said that they cursed the three parts so anyone who wasn’t of Slytherin descent was plagued with madness as they endlessly tried to decipher the code. The only known part was brought by the then Duke of Azwell.”

“And thus we came to have the mad dukes of Azwell,” said Abravan softly. “Very good, Miss Granger. Take five points for Gryffindor.

“Now, there are several different types of curses: basic, runic and, on occasion, a mixture of both, as well as defixiones, which aren’t being used much these days. I expect you to be learning about runic curses in your Runes class, so we’re going to be focusing on basic – the most common these days.”

Basic curses turned out to be spells placed on objects. They could lead to relatively harmless things like a regurgitating toilet or they were more serious consequences such as an object with a premature aging curse attached. The curses, however, could only ever be as powerful as the wizard who cast them and over time they would dissipate entirely unlike runic curses which could last for thousands of years.

“The most important thing to remember is to know what you’re up against. If you take anything from this class, remember that. How can you fight something when you don’t know what you’re up against? For basic curses you need to be using a detection spell. It’s not that hard a spell, but if you don’t use it you may end up spending the rest of your life cursed. So on your head be it,” he warned.

Professor Abravan then told them to collect one of several wooden blocks sitting on the shelves to the back of the room. They were warned to levitate their block to where they were sitting since each one was cursed. After levitating an entire tree only a week or so ago Harry found the action easy. Ron seemed to share the same thought and the two of them raced their wooden blocks back to their desk while Hermione made a tutting sound at their childish behaviour.

The rest of the lesson was taken up with learning the Revealing Spell.

“The trick to casting the spell is a want to know if the object be cursed,” Abravan told them after Seamus’s spell didn’t react. Apparently one witch, a mistress of a wealthy nobleman, had always cast the Revealing Spell on every gift sent to her, but had adored her lover so much that she couldn’t believe he would curse her and so the spell had failed.

“What happened to her?” asked Susan Bones.

“She withered,” Abravan told them with a sad smile.

Hannah Abbott looked shocked. “But that’s horrible!”

“That’s love for you,” replied the professor and told them to get on with the spell.

“Aperio Arcana!” A bolt of blue light rushed out of Harry’s wand and hit the wooden block. The small block shook slightly and turned a purplish hue. The purple then rose up above the box and formed the shape of a mouth that seemed to be constantly moving - like it was speaking - but no sound was coming out.

Looking around, Harry was surprised to find that he was the first one to master the spell. Hermione was still practising the incantation and Ron was pointing his wand at the wooden block while saying the spell, but nothing was happening. He looked rather baffled by the lack of response.

“Very good.” Harry hadn’t realised that the professor was standing right next to him and jumped slightly in surprise. “Now what do you think this means?” he asked, gesturing at the image of the moving mouth.

“Some sort of curse affecting the mouth,” he hedged. Abravan gave him a smile of encouragement to continue. “I don’t know – a babbling curse of some sort?”

“Take five points for Gryffindor. It’s called the Curse of Lalage and causes a person to be prattling on and on without end. You see, it’s not just about knowing that the object’s cursed; it’s about what the object’s cursed with. That’s the most important bit.”

“But how can you tell what means what?” Harry asked curiously. “There must be hundreds of curses.”

“Thousands, it seems to me,” corrected the professor. “Sad fact of life that people have been cursing each other since the dawn of time. But it’s a good question.” He paused to consider. “I suppose through experience and, if you’re really stuck, you can always be getting out a book to look it up in.”

Abravan then started to meander around the classroom occasionally offering advice to those struggling with the spell. With a word here and an altered grip there the entire class was eventually able to cast the spell by the end of the lesson.

Harry was especially happy when he heard what their homework was. “Since you’ve all managed to be mastering the spell I want you to look up what your wooden block was cursed with. Just the curse and a brief description. No fancy essays.”

The whole class looked happy with the pronouncement and even Hermione seemed glad at the short homework.

“But I thought you liked homework,” said Ron with a look of confusion as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the red haired wizard. “Of course I don’t like homework, but that hardly means I have to hate it. I mean, while some homework is actually really interesting I like to have time to read up on other things.”

“I really don’t understand you, Hermione,” said Ron.

They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress. It was hard to believe that just last year the canvas had been viciously slashed.

“Password?” she asked as they approached.

“Balderdash,” answered Harry and the portrait swung open to reveal a hole in the wall, which they all climbed through.

“It’s also nice to know I actually have time for myself this year,” said Hermione as they plonked themselves down in the squashy armchairs that littered the circular common room. “I don’t think I could stand doing another year like that,” she added in reference to her last year’s timetable, which had been so packed she had required a Time-Turner to attend every lesson.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t just take a few extra hours to do your homework.”

“Well you wouldn’t, would you,” Hermione said huffily.

Ron looked affronted. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

Recognising the signs of the row to come, Harry pulled out the Ancient Runes textbook Bill had given to him as well as a scrape of parchment to translate on. It was always hard to tell just how long such an argument would go on for so Harry thought he might as well use his time productively. He was especially motivated after the mention of runic curses.

As it turned out, the argument lasted until dinner when, by some unspoken consensus, Ron and Hermione decided to just ignore each other. It left Harry feeling like piggy in the middle as they each tried to grab his attention. If he had to hear Ron saying “She insulted the Cannons” one more time then he thought he might just explode, especially since he didn’t recall where Quidditch came into the argument. As it was he was glad when it was time for bed.

However, by the next day the argument seemed pretty much forgotten and Hermione accompanied them outside to watch the Quidditch trials with a book in hand. Without any sign of yesterday’s falling out, Hermione wished Ron good luck as they left her in the spectator stands with a bunch of Gryffindors who had also come out to watch.

The day was warm with the sun peeking through white, fluffy clouds. There was barely any breeze and it was warm enough to wear a t-shirt. All in all, a perfect day for Quidditch.

“So are you two are back on speaking terms, then?” Harry asked Ron as they made their way over to where the Gryffindor Quidditch team and a bunch of hopefuls were standing.

“What? Oh, right – yeah. I realised that Hermione really doesn’t understand Quidditch so I can’t really blame her for not understanding the Cannons. She just doesn’t know any better.”

Harry grinned at Ron’s words but didn’t say anything. Like Hermione, he didn’t understand Ron’s unswerving support to the constantly defeated Chudley Cannons.

Including Ron there were eight Keeper hopefuls. Apart from his best friend he only really knew Dean Thomas from his year, though he thought he recognised a few faces. Several of them had their own brooms but for the most part the rather dubious school brooms were being used.

Leaving Ron with Dean and the other hopefuls, Harry edged his way towards where the current Quidditch team was standing. The twins were both looking at Ron in surprise before they started to make their way over to their younger brother wearing identical smirks. Meanwhile, Angelina was frowning as she wrote down something on a piece of parchment before muttering something to Alicia.

“So how was your holiday, Harry?” asked Katie as she stepped in next to him.

“Rather boring, really. But I did get to see the World Cup which was brilliant. Did you get to see it?”

Katie smiled. “I don’t think my mum could have lived with herself if we hadn’t gone. She’s half-Irish,” she explained at Harry’s questioning look. “Terrible about what happened after, though. That was just...”she left it hanging as though she didn’t know quite how to describe the disaster that the World Cup had become.

“But moving on to happier things – did you see Oliver there?”

Happier at the lighter subject, Harry replied enthusiastically. “Yeah, he’s on the reserve for Puddlemere United. I just hope their practices are exhausting enough for him.”

Katie smiled. “Considering it’s Oliver we’re talking about, I doubt it. I’m just hoping that Angie’s not as obsessed since I’ve got my OWLs at the end of the year and if I don’t do well I just know Mum will try and get me to quit.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” assured Harry. He would have said more only Angelina was signalling to them.

“OK, everyone, basically we’re going to go through one by one with me, Alicia and Katie trying to score and you trying to save,” she told the group of hopefuls. “We’re going through in alphabetical order so if everyone except-” she checked her piece of parchment “-Victoria Frobisher could go wait in the stands, and we’ll call you up when it’s your go.”

The other seven contenders left leaving a single girl behind. She looked a bit nervous and was fiddling with a strand of brown hair that had come loose from her pony tail. “It’s Vicky, actually,” she told them. “Only my mum calls me Victoria.”

Angelina quickly noted that down. “Cool. Anyway, we’re going to attempt to score five goals,” she told the younger girl, gesturing to Alicia and Katie as well as herself. “And Harry and the twins are just going to be watching your performance. Is that all OK?”

Vicky nodded, tucking the loose wisp of hair behind her ear. She bent down and collected her own broom – a Cleansweep Seven – from the floor.

“Are you ready?” Angelina asked kindly.

“As I’ll ever be,” Vicky said and kicked up off the ground. The rest of the Quidditch team followed after her.

Harry’s Firebolt soared up high and Harry was filled with the exhilaration only flying could bring. The light breeze caressed him as he flew higher and higher until he clicked that he was supposed to be watching the goal posts instead of doing his usual Seeker routine. He quickly dropped to a lower altitude.

The girl actually turned out to be rather good and managed to save four out of the five goals. She had missed the third attempt after being fooled by Alicia’s double feint.

“You flew really well,” congratulated Angelina when they were all back on firm ground.

“Thanks,” said Vicky, still looking nervous. She once again pushed the free strand of hair behind her ear.

“Would you have any problems attending practices?”

“Well I’m a part of the Charms Club and I’m sort of a member of the Gobstones Society. I’m not that great at Gobstones so I don’t mind missing it but I’d choose Charms Club over Quidditch practice if they ever overlapped.”

Angelina was nodding to all this as she wrote it down. She then told Vicky that she could go if she wanted since it would probably take some time going through all the candidates.

The next contender was a rather miserable looking second year called Geoffrey Hooper. He was stocky with rounded shoulders and a mop of dirty blond hair. His whiny voice grated on everyone as he insisted that he needed to do a warm up first and then he started to whinge that it wasn’t his fault he missed the fourth Quaffle throw that flew through the goal post to his left. Apparently he wasn’t left handed and so couldn’t possibly save the goal.

The next in line was the only other girl applying for the position. When Angelina went to call the girl over, however, it turned out she’d done a runner.

Katie groaned as the next hopeful approached the team with a slight swagger in his step and a Nimbus Two Thousand and One in hand. “If he gets on the team then I’m quitting,” muttered Katie to Harry.

The large, wiry-haired fifth year didn’t seem aware of the animosity Katie held against him as he greeted her with a smile.

“Cormac,” greeted Katie in turn with a thin smile pasted on her face.

But Cormac seemed the best flyer so far and managed to save every goal sent his way. Angelina looked pleased with his performance while Katie looked on stonily.

The next hopeful was a seventh year called Jason Robins. He was rather tall with a good, solid build and an easy smile. “Figured since this is my last year I might as well have a go,” he told them.

He, too, saved every goal, though Harry did suspect that Katie made her two shots easier to catch.

After that came Jack Slopper, a third year who seemed a bit shaky on the broom and only managed to save one goal.

Dean was the next up and, while quite good at handling the broom, didn’t seem Keeper material. He seemed to realise this as well since once he had dismounted he said aloud that he didn’t think he was suited to the position.

Last up was Ron who looked paler than usual as he made his way towards the group. Harry gave him a smile of encouragement but Ron seemed too nervous to take any notice as he mounted a rather old school broom that looked like it was on its last legs.

It seemed to go quite well at first and he managed to save the first two goals. But when he missed the third throw all the confidence seemed to drain out of Ron and any flying ability fled with it. The last two shots past him by with such ease that it was almost painful to watch.

As soon as they landed Ron was already walking off, ignoring Harry’s shouts. Hermione came up towards him and was casually shaken off as Ron left the Quidditch pitch entirely.

“Well, didn’t that go well,” George commented dryly.

Angelina ignored the comment as she detailed what she thought about each of the choices. “At the end of the day it comes down to McLaggen or Robins. What do you guys think?”

“Robins,” said Katie straight away. “I do not want to have to fly with McLaggen.”

“I’d say Robins, too. I don’t want to sound harsh, but there’s something about McLaggen that... I don’t know...” Alicia shrugged, unable to describe exactly what put her off McLaggen. “I just think I’d get on better with Robins, even if he is only here for one more year.”

The twins didn’t seem that bothered but, when pressed, picked Robins.

“What about you, Harry?”

“Robins,” he answered distractedly, his thoughts still on Ron.

“Right then, Robins it is. I’ll tell everyone when we get back to the common room. Oh, and before I forget, next practice is next Friday at five.”

With that said she dismissed them all. Angelina, Alicia and the twins all began making their way back towards the castle, leaving Harry and Katie on the pitch.

“He’s really not going to be happy,” commented Katie as she picked up the school brooms still lying on the grass.

Harry started to help her. “No, he’s not,” agreed Harry, thinking about Ron’s disastrous performance. “And he seemed to be doing alright until the third shot and then he just fell to pieces.”

“What?”

“It’s like as soon as he missed the shot he just lost all his confidence,” continued Harry.

Katie twigged on. “You’re talking about Ron, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, why... Oh! You were talking about McLaggen, weren’t you?”

Katie nodded. “But I’m sure both of them will get over it. It’s only Quidditch, after all.”

“Blasphemy, Katie!” Harry exclaimed in mock horror. “Whatever would Oliver say if he could hear you now?”

They met each other’s eyes and started to laugh.

“Come on, you can help me put away these broomsticks,” said Katie and they made their way towards the storage cupboard.

“And Harry,” said Katie as they replaced all the school brooms. “Ron will get over it. Just give it some time.”