The Hogwarts Lonely Hearts Club

Quidditch and Quill Nibs

The news that Harry Potter was going to be playing Seeker for the upcoming Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match caused both surprise and excited interest to run along the corridors of Hogwarts over the next few days. Rumours and questions spread like wildfire, igniting a feverish attention that few Quidditch matches in the history of the school could have scarce boasted before.

The net upshot of this was that Harry hardly set foot outside of the Ravenclaw Common Room for the rest of the week, leaving only for lessons - which he was escorted to and from by a brigade of eager Ravenclaws keen to protect him from the extra attention - and even having meals brought up to him from the Great Hall. This was all at the behest of the rejuvenated Roger Davies, who wanted to keep his secret weapon as keen and sharp-willed as possible, just in case he suddenly changed his mind about playing at all.

The only place this new excitement wasn't felt was across the castle in Gryffindor Tower. The uncertainty surrounding Harry Potter and his hitherto unknown Quidditch skills greatly unsettled the members of that House. They speculated, they debated, they plotted ways to injured Harry before the day of the match, such was the level of disquiet caused by this enigmatic persona suddenly emerging from his own imperious shadow to range himself against them.

Indeed, Oliver Wood, the Quidditch Captain, was busy trying to find a loophole that would stop Harry from playing in the first place, on the grounds of not being registered as part of the squad. He didn't want to take the risk that Ravenclaw House was in possession of a hidden Quidditch superstar that it was about to unleash upon the unsuspecting Gryffindors. It was only when George Weasley pointed out that no member, of any House squad, was formally registered to play that finally led Wood to concede and go back to his restless pacing.

The only person who was cheered by this curious development was one Hermione Granger. She could be found idling around Gryffindor Tower with a blatant smile on her face more often than not, which was a sight as unsettling to the Gryffindors as the one of Harry Potter lining up against them on the Quidditch pitch would be in a few days time. For a happy Hermione Granger was something they weren't quite sure what to do with, an anomaly that they didn't how to act around ... like a chirpy Professor Snape dressed in a fluffy pink cardigan with a matching bonnet or something.

It was simply that weird.

But Hermione was happy alright, almost to the point of being fit to burst with it. For this was all her doing, and she knew that down to the marrow of her bones. It didn't even matter that Gryffindor might suffer a sporting defeat on account of her actions, she'd just have to make up any lost points through her academic performance, if only to appease her House-proud conscience.

No, the only thing that mattered was that Harry Potter was going to play Quidditch, in front of the whole school ... and the only reason for that was because he wanted just one person to see him do it.

"This is all for me ... he wants me to watch him play," Hermione had muttered to herself in something like amazement, when the news was first splashed around a horrified Gryffindor Common Room. "Maybe I've irritated him, which I hope I haven't, or maybe I've spurred him on ... but this is all for my benefit, he's doing this all for me. He's going to go out there and try to impress me!"

And, for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger knew what it was to feel that somebody actually liked her ... that someone felt she was worthy of such an act as this. Harry Potter wanted her good opinion, he wanted Hermione to think well of him ... and the sensation filled her to the brim with something hot and joyous ... and she knew she could easily get addicted to it if she wasn't careful.

So while everyone else around her was antsy and concerned, Hermione found herself unseasonally chipper, though she had to try very hard to hide it, lest she antagonise everyone by being happy for the very same reason that all the others were feeling so morose.