For or the rest of the week's Potions lessons Harry continued to follow the Half-Blood Prince's instructions, with the result that by our fourth lesson Slughorn was raving about Harry's abilities, saying that he had rarely taught anyone so talented.
Neither Ron nor Hermione were delighted by this. I, frankly, could not care less. It didn't affect me, so why bother? It's just a bloody textbook.
Although Harry had offered to share his book with all of us, I declined, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did and could not keep asking Harry to read aloud or it might look suspicious, and Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely plowing on with what she called the "official" instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered as they yielded poorer results than the Prince's.
I had wondered very vaguely who the Half-Blood Prince had been. Although the amount of homework we had been given prevented me from giving it too much thought.
There was hardly a page that didn't have any of the Prince's writing on it. Here and there were directions for what looked like spells that the Prince had made up himself.
"Or herself!" said Hermione irritably, overhearing Harry pointing some of these out to Ron and I in the common room on Saturday evening. "It might have been a girl. I think the handwriting looks more like a girl's than a boy's."
Harry's hopes of keeping the whole 'Half-Blood Prince' thing had gone down the drain after Hermione had flipped through the book herself and seen the name.
"The Half-Blood Prince, he was called," Harry said. "How many girls have been Princes?"
Hermione seemed to have no answer to this. She merely scowled and twitched her essay on The Principles of Rematerialization away from Ron, who was trying to read it upside down.
Harry looked at his watch and hurriedly put the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making back into his bag.
"It's five to eight, I'd better go, I'll be late for Dumbledore," he said quickly and kissed the top of my head as he stood up.
"Ooooh!" gasped Hermione, looking up at once. "Good luck!"
I nodded, "Yeah, hope it goes okay."
"If it's anything like the Occlumency—" said Ron before Hermione whacked his arm, and the three of us watched Harry leave through the portrait hole.
After a few moments silence, Hermione asked, without having looked up from her essay, "Quidditch, Y/n?"
Ron laughed slightly as I groaned, "I really don't want to."
"I figured you only wanted to do it for him. He did seem pretty excited about it," Ron said.
"Yeah..." I sighed deeply. "He did."
"You still remember how to ride a broom?" he added, grinning.
"Surely," Hermione said, "it's like riding a bike. Can't forget how to even if you wanted to."
"I could give you pointers?" Ron said to me, ignoring Hermione, "I know I'm far from the best but it's something?"
I shook my head, "I'd rather not waste yours and my time. I most probably won't pitch to trials anyway."
"Well, best decide quickly... They're 'round the corner," Ron said as he stood up and stretched. Honey, who had been laying next to me on the couch, immediately jumped up and ran off.
"She's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Ron said.
"Well," Hermione chimes in, "considering you did turn her pink...?"
"Yeah, but she's acting like we bloody well skinned her alive."
"I think it was more the bathing that frightened her," I commented, laughing slightly.
•••••
The workload proved to be more than substantial almost immediately when I found myself in the library that night as opposed to socialising.
I sighed, and rested my head in my hands as I stared hopelessly at Snape's homework we had been assigned.
Where was Hermione when you needed her?
The library was unusually empty, even at this hour. Come to think of it, I hadn't even seen the librarian?
Very suddenly, I heard the sound of a pile of books falling and breaking the silence. Admittedly uncomfortable, I turned my body to look behind me.
Nobody.
I narrowed my eyes and scanned the three aisles of books I could see from my seat carefully.
Still, absolutely nothing.
A little freaked out, I slowly turn my body back to face the work in front of me and nearly had a heart attack.
"Cedric!" I gasped, "Don't do that!"
Laughing, he leaned against the side of the table I was working at, "My baaaad."
"Need a hand with that?" he added.
I sighed, moving my hair out of my face. "You any use at DADA?" I asked, "I feel like I'm drowning in Snape's assignments."
He laughed once more. That sweet, contagious laugh. "Snape's the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? You're bullshitting me."
Joining in on his laughter, I replied, "Swear."
I handed him my paper, "And knock yourself out."
His eyes scanned the paper, then he abruptly said, "You're a prefect?"
I raised an eyebrow and looked down at the badge pinned on my uniform that he'd noticed, "I've been a prefect."
"You never told me."
"Yeah well—" I blanked. Why hadn't I told my own brother I was a prefect? That was our whole goal? I had to have to told him? He had to have noticed?
"You should really speak to me more," he added. "I get lonely."
I sniggered. "Cedric Diggory? Lonely? Please."
"I'm being serious!" he smiled. "Number 7's answer is the Killing Curse by the way."
I furrowed my eyebrows and snatched the paper from him.
"Surely I'd have figured that one out." But no. There the question was, plain as day.
"Weird..." I added.
"Anywa—" I gasped and nearly fell back out of my chair as I looked up.
My brother who had looked normal a moment ago in front of me, was now that unforgettable blue fleshed colour. His eyes were nothing but whites and his mouth was slightly agape. His veins disturbingly visible.
Through the fear-born tears that had formed in my eyes, I whispered shakily, "Cedric...?"
No reply.
However, when he moved slightly, a high pitched screech immediately started blaring.
Now full on crying, I covered my ears and shut my eyes tightly. After what felt like forever, the noise finally stopped.
I slowly removed my hands from my ears.
"He's back! He's back!"
I opened one eye, then the other. The noise was now entirely that of a distraught crowd and an obnoxious band.
"He's back! Voldemort's back!"
In front of me was Harry, shouting those words at Dumbledore.
I started crying harder. This scene was all too familiar... And I hated that I knew what was lying beside me.
I cried harder and louder. I shut my eyes and refused to see it again. Once was enough. Once was too much.
I blocked my ears, though sounds of the crowd only seemed to be intensifying.
I cried harder and louder in an attempt to drown everything else out. So loud that it was the only thing I could hear.
"Diggory! The Diggory boy is dead!" Fudge shouted through my attempts.
My chest had started paining from the drawn out sobs. I brought my knees up to my mid section and rocked slightly,
"Please stop," I whispered to whatever was punishing me so much. "Please."
Eventually, all went quiet. Warily, I slowly opened my eyes, and all I saw was the light pouring through the window of my dark dorm room.
I sat up and saw the wet patch of sweat and tears on my pillow. I rubbed my eyes as I tried to collect my thoughts.
Why was this only happening now? Ced's been dead for over a year.
It took everything in me to not turn the light on, but I didn't want to wake Hermione.
I wouldn't be able to fall sleep again; that I had known for sure. As much as I hated to admit it, that had honestly scared me shitless.
Contemplating, I finally made a decision, and hoped that there were no teachers patrolling the common area. Or even worse, Peeves.
I swung my legs off of my bed and slid my slippers on, walking towards my door.
The clock in the common room read 1:37am, and I don't think I'd ever heard the castle this quiet. Each of my footsteps sounded like that of an elephant's.
I practically tip toed to the sixth year boy's dorms, up the stairs, and after a considerable amount of those stairs, turned the handle as quietly as I could on the second door on my left.
I entered and shut it behind me, analysing the 5 beds placed around the dorm.
I headed over to the farthest right hand corner and slid into Harry's bed.
He stirred and mumbled, "Hi angel, what's wrong?"
I froze in my tracks, "I'm sorry," I whisper, "I really didn't mean to wake you."
He turned his body around to face me and whispered back, "I don't mind if it's you. I'll be gone again in no time," He gave me a sleepy smile.
I smiled back, "You sure you can even tell it's me without those?" I teased and indicated to his glasses on his bedside table.
I heard him crack a soft laugh, "Just shut up and come here."
He lifted the duvet for me to climb under, then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. I laid and closed my eyes, listening to the calming sound of his heartbeat, still trying to relax myself.
I unclenched my jaw that I didn't know I'd been clenching, and manually un-tensed my muscles.
"You still didn't answer me," Harry added.
"About?" I mumbled into his shoulder.
"What's wrong?"
I moved my head to face up and look directly at him, "Nothing, just couldn't sleep is all," I threw in a weak smile to really try and sell it.
"Are you sure?" he asked, clearly unconvinced.
"Yeah."
"Really?"
I laughed softly, again, really trying to sell it, "Yes, Harry."
"Oh, alright..." He playfully frowned, "You know you can tell me if there is anything, right?"
"Of course I know that. It's nothing... And how was your lesson with Dumbledore?" I said, wanting to change the topic.
He took a deep breath and adjusted himself into a more comfortable laying position, "It was fine actually... don't worry about it."
I fiddled with the hem of his t shirt as I stared blankly past him, out the window.
"Was it a nightmare?" he whispered after a few moments silence; and my own silence spoke volumes. He held me tighter.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.
I fought off the strong urge to ask him, 'How the hell have you dealt with them for years?'
"Was it the same one?" he whispered into my ear, still holding me tightly. I nodded slightly.
"You know," he whispered, this time after a while's silence, his voice playful and in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, "if I had a galleon for every time you stole my bed in the middle of the night—"
"Okay, Potter," I smiled slightly.
"—especially, in third year." he added, I felt his fingers lacing in mine, "Find it hard to believe you found Sirius that frightening."
I cracked a bigger smile and smacked his arm jokingly, "Everyone did, okay!" I whisper shouted.
"I blame Ron, actually," I continued, "After his claim that Sirius had been standing next to his bed with a knife — shhhh!" I said to Harry, who had started laughing notably loud, as I tried to fight back my own.
"You can't pretend you weren't also shitting your pants every night," I added.
"Oh piss off," he laughed, so much so that I covered his mouth with my hand. He licked my hand and we both burst out laughing.
"Shhhh!" he now said to me, wiping his teary eyes. I did the same, smiling more at the fact I was crying for this reason and not another.
"And it's not my fault your bed is comfier than mine," I added onto my initial point of sneaking into his dorm.
"You sure it's my bed and not me?"
"A thousand percent," I smiled.
"Keep telling yourself that, Diggory," he whispered as he pressed his forehead against mine, only making me giggle more as he held me tighter.
"Well, I bet Ron's bed is better than both of ours combined," I said, and right on cue, Ron gave an earth rumbling snore. He laid spread eagle on top of his duvet.
Harry covered his mouth to muffle his laugh, and moved his other to muffle mine. In that moment, we must have looked like two little first year girls giggling at bedtime.
As we began to calm down, we settled into a comfortable position. Harry's hands still wrapped tightly around my body and my face buried in his shoulder.
After a while he whispered while gently playing with the tips of my hair, "Imagine if we had this every day... no more sneaking around. Just one room, for the two of us."
I smiled softly, "One day."
"...One day," he murmured quietly. He sighed and pulled the duvet over us.
As sleep began to claim me once more, I held onto him tightly.
What did I do to deserve you?
•••••
As Hermione had predicted, our free periods as sixth years were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework we were being set.
Not only were we studying as though we had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before.
I hardly understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to us these days; even Hermione had had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice.
Incredibly, and to Hermione's increasing resentment, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to that Half-Blood Prince bloke.
Non-verbal spells were now expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too.
I frequently looked over at my classmates in the common room or at mealtimes to see them purple in the face and straining; but I knew that they were really struggling to make spells work without saying incantations aloud.
It was a relief to get outside into the greenhouses; we were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever in Herbology, but at least we were were still allowed to shout loudly if the Venomous Tentacula seized us unexpectedly from behind.
To make matters worse, the Quidditch trials were approaching. And fast.
"I always thought you to be above Quidditch, Diggory."
I rolled my eyes with a smile on my face, "Hello, Mattheo."
"I find it stupid," he added, falling into step beside me in the hallway. "Riding around on sticks... Chasing balls... People look like proper idiots."
"Bit harsh."
He shrugged, "Point still stands... Anyway, I only ever see you in Potions these days?"
"What shocked me most was that you even made N.E.W.T Potions," I laughed.
"Oh shut it, I'm smart," he replied.
"How'd you find out about me trying out?" I asked, to which Mattheo flailed his arms around dramatically.
"Diggory's saving Gryffindor! Diggory's saving Gryffindor!" he said in a mocking high pitched voice.
I rolled my eyes once more, "Now who's saying that?"
He shrugged again, "People talk... Didn't believe them though... wanted to hear for myself."
He sighed dramatically and added, "So it's true then?"
I drew breath to reply, but he spoke before me, "You doing it to please him?"
I gave Mattheo a very unimpressed look. "Don't say it like that. I have a choice... and that same 'him' would definitely have an issue with this little interaction of ours," I added, matter-of-factly.
Mattheo scoffed, "Why, exactly?"
"You forget we're exes, Mattheo?"
It was now his turn to give the unimpressed look, "Yeah. But we both know that was not serious."
"Still. I'd be quite pissed if Harry were to be this buddy buddy with Cho."
Mattheo laughed, "I don't miss that shit show."
"...You still friends with Draco?" I asked, for the question had been burning a hole in my brain.
"Better not be," a voice from behind us said. We turned around and saw Ginny, who'd caught up with us.
"Gemma!" Mattheo smiled. "You finally talking to me again?"
"I never wasn't. It's the Slytherins as a whole... turns out you're the exception," she said as she fell into step with us.
Before Mattheo could question, Ginny said, "So answer the question. You still friends with that platinum blonde cunt?"
"Nope," he replied. "I've found better company. Some that would ease your boyfriend's mind of that fact that I am over you," he said to me.
"You found a new fuck buddy?" I said, pretending to be shocked.
"More like seven," he smiled.
Can't believe I''d kissed that mouth before.
"We should hang out more, though," Mattheo added. "You lot were nice company."
I pulled a face, "I don't know how Harry would—"
They both groaned.
"Guys I have to—!"
"I'll talk to him if he has that much of a problem with it," Mattheo cut me off.
"I don't think he'd appreciate my ex approaching him. It's not so much 'having a problem' than it is respect—"
"I'll keep a metres distance away from you at all times."
"Mattheo—"
"And only hang out in the day."
"Mattheo—!"
"Okay fine," he said. "I'll make both you and him a deal. We'll only hang out when Jenna—" "—Ginny," Ginny corrected — "is present. Never ever alone."
I was still not comfortable.
"That's if we even have time," I decide to say, "sixth year's doing a number."
Ginny sniggered, "Yeah, you lot work until what time every night—"
The bell rang, cutting her off.
"I hope to be seeing you around, Diggory. And good luck with your Quidditch," Mattheo said as he strutted to his next lesson. "Might stop by!" he announced as he walked off.
I signed deeply.
"Be a Chaser with me!" Ginny said excitedly, "It's easiest, I swear!"
"Ginny I ca—"
"Class, ladies!" a seventh year prefect told us, and earned quite a dirty look from Ginny.
Reluctantly, we separate and headed off to our respective classes.
••••••
One result of our enormous workload and the frantic hours of practicing nonverbal spells was that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had so far been unable to find time to go and visit Hagrid.
He had stopped coming to meals at the staff table, and on the few occasions when we had passed him in the corridors or out in the grounds, he had mysteriously failed to notice us or hear our greetings.
"We've got to go and explain," said Hermione, looking up at Hagrid's huge empty chair at the staff table the following Saturday at breakfast.
"We've got Quidditch tryouts this morning!" said Ron.
I sunk further into my seat.
Yes, I'd been too pussy to back out.
"And," Ron continued, "we're supposed to be practicing that Aguamenti Charm from Flitwick! Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?"
"We didn't hate it!" said Hermione.
"Speak for yourself!" Ron spat "I haven't forgotten the skrewts," he added darkly. "And I'm telling you now, we've had a narrow escape. You didn't hear him going on about his gormless brother we'd have been teaching Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we'd stayed."
"I hate not talking to Hagrid," I said, looking upset.
"We'll go down after Quidditch," Harry assured me. "You excited?"
"Not in the slightest. And the weather isn't helping," I complained and looked out of the window in the Great Hall. Grey skies. Wonderful.
Harry nudged me with his shoulder, smiling, "Don't worry. You'll be a natural."
"Don't hold your breath..." I mumbled.
"Back to the Hagrid thing," Harry said, "trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied... so we can go around lunch maybe? I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."
"Oh, come on, Harry," said Hermione, suddenly impatient. "It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."
I raised an eyebrow at her blanket statement.
Ron gagged on a large piece of bacon. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.
"Objectively, of course," she added.
"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One' — well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"
"And you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway..."
"You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look," said Ron, shaking back his sleeves, trying to regain Hermione's attention.
"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either," Katie Bell, who'd been eavesdropping, chimed in as she walked past. I scoffed.
Hermione nodded in agreement with Katie.
"I'm tall," said Ron inconsequentially.
"See you lot on the pitch. Weather wasn't on our side but hey, the show must go on," Katie said and continued walking.
The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water.
Most people were receiving more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home.
Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed.
He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and gray owls. She landed in front of him carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.
"Ha!" said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts.
"Oh good," said Hermione, delighted. "Now you can give that graffitied copy back."
"Are you mad?" said Harry. "I'm keeping it! Look, I've thought it out —"
He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, "Diffindo!"
The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand-new book (Hermione looked scandalized). He then swapped the covers, tapped each, and said, "Reparo!"
"Harry," I sighed, giving him an unimpressed look.
There sat the Prince's copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly secondhand.
"I'll give Slughorn back the new one, he can't complain, it cost nine Galleons."
Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of her carrying that day's copy of the Daily Prophet. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page.
"Anyone we know dead?" I asked in a determinedly casual voice; it was the same question posed every time Hermione opened her paper.
"Nope... not today."
"People are terrified though," Hermione began as she flipped through the paper. "— you know the Patil twins' parents want them to go home? And Eloise Midgen has already been withdrawn. Her father picked her up last night."
"What!" said Ron, goggling at Hermione. "But Hogwarts is safer than their homes, bound to be! We've got Aurors, and all those extra protective spells, and we've got Dumbledore!"
"I don't think we've got him all the time," I said, glancing toward the staff table over the top of the Prophet. "Haven't you noticed? His seat's been empty as often as Hagrid's this past week."
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up at the staff table. The headmaster's chair was indeed empty.
"I think he's left the school to do something with the Order," Hermione commented in a low voice. "I mean... it's all looking serious, isn't it?"
Harry, Ron and I did not answer, but we all knew that we were thinking the same thing.
There had been a horrible incident the day before, when Hannah Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be told her mother had been found dead. Nobody had seen Hannah since.
••••••
As Harry had expected, the trials took most of the morning.
Half of Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, from first years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest, looking coolly intimidating.
"The weather's shit," I say, looking up at the daunting sky.
"Wont be a bother though," Harry said, nonetheless. He was currently very focused on tying my hair into a ponytail as we all prepared to begin by the stands.
As I stood, deep in thought while my hair was mutilated, it hit me.
"Harry! I don't have a broom!" and I couldn't hide the massive smile on my face. There it was! The perfect excuse!
"You think I hadn't thought that far ahead?" he laughed, still trying to gather my hair, "You can borrow mine. And when you make the team, your parents have no problem affording a broom."
"...Yay," I mumble. My spirits having dropped just as quickly as they'd soared.
One of the seventh years who'd showed up included wiry-haired boy Harry recognized immediately from the Hogwarts Express.
"We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment," he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry's hand. "Cormac McLaggen, Keeper."
Harry nodded, "Yeah, I remember you mate. I'm a little busy now though," he said light heartedly in reply to the handshake.
I sighed, "Are you almost—?"
"—Done!" he smiled. I turned around.
"And? How does it look?"
"Hot," Harry grinned stupidly.
Cormac cleared his throat, and Harry returned his attention to him.
"Oh yes... Uh, you didn't try out last year, did you?" asked Harry.
I took note of the breadth of McLaggen and thinking that he would probably block all three goal hoops without even moving.
"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials," said McLaggen, with something of a gloat. "Ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet."
"People still do that?" I pulled a face, recalling the numerous times when Cedric and I were kids where he'd been rushed to the hospital on account of that.
Cormac looked me up and down with a smirk, "Indeed they do..." he then blinked a few times and turned to Harry smiling, "Damn, Potter, didn't know you had it in you."
Harry drew a lot of breath to reply to this, to which I butted in.
"Well uh..." I say, "Everyone's waiting over there."
Harry, very thankfully, bit his tongue. "Yeah," he smiled forcefully, "everyone's over there."
He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Hermione was sitting.
Cormac nodded and walked off.
"You ready?" Harry asked as he reached for his broom and placed it beside me.
"Answer's still no," I complained as I look at the broom as if it were poison.
I got onto the broom and the stick was already digging into my backside.
"Alright... well seeing as we have first years here," Harry looked wearily at the stands, "I think we can start with a basic test... and you can get the feel of the broom too."
I'd wanted to object, but Harry had already turned around to address the crowd.
Harry, indeed, had decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch.
I was with Ginny and a bunch of other people we didn't know.
"Don't embarrass yourself, Diggory," Ginny teased as she flew past my effortlessly,
"Not. Helping."
"I'm just fucking with you," Ginny laughed and flew beside me. "See! Already a natural."
Hermione had been right: Riding a broom was like riding a bike, you can't forget how to. After the better part of a minute I'd completely felt comfortable on the broomstick... More than a portion of the attendees could say.
The group of the first ten was made up of first years, and it could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before.
Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goal posts.
The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another.
Romilda Vane was amongst them. When he told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.
The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks. The fifth group were Hufflepuffs.
"If there's anyone else here who's not from Gryffindor," shouted Harry, who was evidently starting to get seriously annoyed, "leave now, please!
There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.
After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial; and Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot, and well...
"You made it!" Ginny exclaimed as our feet touched the ground. She threw her arms around me, nearly knocking me to the ground.
"We told you you'd be a natural and what were you!? A natural!"
Overwhelmed, and rather shocked, I hugged her back, smiling.
Harry had shouted himself hoarse at the many complainers and was now enduring a similar battle with the rejected Beaters.
"That's my final decision and if you don't get out of the way of the Keepers I'll hex you," he bellowed.
Neither of his chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of Fred and George, according to Ginny, but Harry still looked to be reasonably pleased with them: Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year boy who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry's head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well.
They now joined Katie, Ginny and I on the edge of the pitch, waiting for the Keeper trials to start.
"Where exactly were you the last five years, Diggory?" Katie asked as she sat down on my other side, looking quite impressed.
I smiled, "The Hufflepuff stands."
Harry had deliberately left the trial of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned.
Unfortunately, however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now, so that it was larger than ever.
Hermione moved down from where she had been sitting to join us. She, in a similar way to Ginny, threw her arms around me to congratulate me.
"How'd it go?" Mattheo appeared out of nowhere and said to Ginny and I. Katie gave him, a Slytherin, a scathing look before moving away to her friends who'd also come out after breakfast. Hermione shuffled uncomfortably but ultimately stayed.
I opened my mouth but Ginny spoke first, "Amazing! She's amazing! We both made it!"
Mattheo laughed, "Cant possibly be seen in public with Quidditch players. Damages my image."
Looking to the other side of the pitch at Harry who was preparing with the Keepers, I commented, "I can think of another reason too."
"What image?" Ginny sniggered at Mattheo's previous remark. "You're the guy girls go to when they need an ego boost."
"Okay, I'm not that easy," he complained. "I do have standards."
"That being?" Hermione added, getting a surprised look from Mattheo.
"Anything that moves," I said, and Ginny laughed.
"She speaks?" Mattheo said to Hermione, ignoring my words. She, in turn, ignored his.
"You know, Granger," he said, "soon you'll see that out of all the Slytherins, I should be the least of your problems."
As each Keeper flew up to the goal hoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. I glanced over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves.
Everyone had hoped that winning their final match last term might have cured it, but apparently not: Ron was a delicate shade of green.
Each Chaser and Beater had to shoot one goal for the Keeper to defend. The Beaters, not ever shooting goals in their position, shot the first two, and were honestly easy saves.
Still, none of the first five applicants saved more than two goals in total apiece.
To Harry's great disappointment, Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five, including my own. On the last one, however, I'd returned to the stands briefly and heard a whisper beside me. With that, Cormac shot off in completely the wrong direction; the crowd laughed and booed and him returned to the ground grinding his teeth.
"Hermion—?"
"Hm?" she said very quickly, sitting up straight.
I had a speculation, but decided to drop it for now because I'd quite liked the outcome. "Nevermind."
Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven. "Good luck!" cried a voice from the stands. I'd been expecting it to be Hermione, but no. It had been Lavender Brown.
Ron saved the first two attempts shot by the Beaters, and thankfully so, because if he hadn't there would really be no hope for the rest of the trial.
I gave him a smile before I shot my own. He defended it with no problem.
Turns out, we need not have worried: Ron saved all five penalties with ease.
Delighted, and resisting joining in the cheers of the crowd with difficulty, Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen's red face inches from his own.
As we, the rest of the team, had run down to congratulate Ron, I'd overheard the Cormac and Harry interaction.
"His sister didn't really try," said McLaggen menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one I had noticed on Uncle Vernon's. "She gave him an easy save."
"Rubbish," said Harry coldly. "That was the one he nearly missed."
"Might as well throw in Diggory as well. Obviously, the Captain would let his friends and girlfriend on the team."
McLaggen took a step nearer Harry.
"Give me another go."
"No," said Harry, evidently trying to keep his temper in check. "You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keeper, he won it fair. Get out of my way."
It looked for a moment that McLaggen might punch him, but he contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling what sounded like threats to thin air.
Harry turned around to find us, his new team, beaming at him. His eyes lingered notably long on me. I had been unable to contain my smile
"Well done," he said to us all. "You all flew really well —"
"You did brilliantly, Ron!"
This time it really was Hermione running toward us from the stands; I saw Lavender walking off the pitch, arm in arm with Parvati, a rather grumpy expression on her face.
Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the team and at Hermione.
After fixing the time of our first full practice for the following Thursday, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I bade goodbye to the rest of the team and headed off toward Hagrid's, where Harry had done the thing he'd obviously been waiting for.
"I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!" he yelled, loud enough to make us all flinch, as I received a third bone crushing, able to knock me off my feet, hug.
"You made it! That was amazing!" he added as he jumped and spun with me in his arms.
"You were amazing!" he continued as he kissed my face all over through my laughter, "I love you so much right now! This season is gonna be—"
"—amazing?" Ron and Hermione said in unison. Harry put me down, flushed in the face from excitement.
"Yes, yes precisely."
A watery sun was trying to break through the clouds now and it had stopped drizzling at last.
I'd felt extremely hungry; and hoped there would be something to eat at Hagrid's.
"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Ron was saying happily. "Tricky shot from you, Y/n, did you see, had a bit of spin on it —"
"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," said Hermione, looking amused.
"I was better than that McLaggen anyway," said Ron in a highly satisfied voice. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded..."
As expected, Hermione turned a very deep shade of pink at these words. Ron noticed nothing; he was too busy describing each of his other penalties in loving detail.
I took ahold of Hermione's wrist and lagged behind the two boys.
"You—?"
"Fine fine!" she confessed without any pressure to do so, "I did it! I hexed Cormac so he'd miss the final goal! I know. It was dishonest and- and unfair—!"
But I simply laughed, and Hermione's expressed relaxed slightly.
"I figured," I said, "and I think you did everybody a favour... You saw the cunt Cormac is."
Unconvinced that she'd made a good decision, she nodded nonetheless.
The great gray hippogriff, Buckbeak, was tethered in front of Hagrid's cabin. He clicked his razor-sharp beak at their approach and turned his huge head toward them.
"Oh dear," said Hermione nervously. "He's still a bit scary, isn't he?"
"Come off it, you've ridden him, haven't you?" said Ron. Harry stepped forward and bowed low to the hippogriff without breaking eye contact or blinking. After a few seconds, Buckbeak sank into a bow too.
"How are you?" Harry asked him in a low voice, moving forward to stroke the feathery head. "Missing him? But you're okay here with Hagrid, aren't you?"
"Oy!" said a loud voice.
Hagrid had come striding around the corner of his cabin wearing a large flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes. His enormous boarhound, Fang, was at his heels; Fang gave a booming bark and bounded forward.
"Git away from him! He'll have yer fingers — oh. It's yeh lot."
Fang was jumping up at Ron and I, trying to lick our ears. Hagrid stood and looked at us all for a split second, then turned and strode into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.
"Oh no!" said Hermione, looking stricken.
"Don't worry about it," said Harry grimly. He walked over to the door and knocked loudly.
"Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!"
There was no sound from within.
"If you don't open the door, we'll blast it open!" Harry said, pulling out his wand.
"Harry!" said Hermione, sounding shocked. "You can't possibly —"
"Yeah, I can!" said Harry. "Stand back —"
But before he could say anything else, the door flew open again as Harry had known it would, and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at him and looking, despite the flowery apron, positively alarming.
"I'm a teacher!" he roared at Harry. "A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!"
"I'm sorry, sir," said Harry, emphasizing the last word as he stowed his wand inside his robes.
Hagrid looked stunned. "Since when have yeh called me 'sir'?"
"Since when have you called me 'Potter'?"
"Oh, very clever," growled Hagrid. "Very amusin'. That's me outsmarted, innit? All righ', come in then, yeh ungrateful little..."
Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass. Hermione scurried in after Harry, looking rather frightened.
"Well?" said Hagrid grumpily, as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I sat down around his enormous wooden table, Fang laying his head immediately upon Harry's knee and drooling all over his robes. "What's this? Feelin' sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?"
"No," said Harry at once. "We wanted to see you."
"We've missed you!" I said tremulously.
"Missed me, have yeh?" snorted Hagrid. "Yeah. Righ'."
He stomped around, brewing up tea in his enormous copper kettle, muttering all the while.
Finally he slammed down three bucket-sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front of us and a plate of his rock cakes. I was hungry enough even for Hagrid's cooking, and took one at once.
"Hagrid," said Hermione timidly, when he joined us at the table and started peeling his potatoes with a brutality that suggested that each tuber had done him a great personal wrong, "we really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know."
Hagrid gave another great snort. I rather thought some snot landed on the potatoes, and was inwardly thankful that we were not staying for dinner.
"We did!" said Hermione. "But none of us could fit it into our schedules!"
"Yeah. Righ'," said Hagrid again.
It had taken quite a lot of small talk, but Hagrid had eventually caved and forgave us. And we had immediately been sucked back into the world that is Hagrid. He told us all about his worries of Aragog, his gigantic talking spider, and how he thinks it might be dying.
All about how Buckbeak was doing... How Grawp was doing...
"Ar, I always knew yeh'd find it hard ter squeeze me inter yer timetables," Hagrid said gruffly, pouring us more tea. "Even if yeh applied fer Time-Turners —"
"We couldn't have done," I said. "We smashed the entire stock of Ministry Time-Turners when we were there last summer. It was in the Daily Prophet."
"Ar, well then," said Hagrid. "There's no way yeh could've done it... I'm sorry I've bin — yeh know — I've jus' bin really worried about Aragog... an I did wonder whether, if Professor Grubbly-Plank had bin teachin' yeh —"
At which all four of us stated categorically and untruthfully that Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had substituted for Hagrid a few times, was a dreadful teacher, with the result that by the time Hagrid waved them off the premises at dusk, he looked quite cheerful.
"I'm starving," said Harry, once the door had closed behind us and we were hurrying through the dark and deserted grounds; I, personally, had abandoned the rock cake after an ominous cracking noise from one of my back teeth. "And I've got that detention with Snape tonight, I haven't got much time for dinner," he added.
As we came into the castle we spotted Cormac McLaggen entering the Great Hall.
It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him, but Harry caught both mine and Hermione's arm and held her back.
"What were you two talking about earlier on the way to Hagrid?"
"What?" said Hermione defensively.
"Nevermind, actually. You talk very loud, and I heard something about the trials," he said quietly. "If you ask me, McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting."
Hermione blushed.
"Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he has got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn't get in — you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team."
"No," said Harry. "No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that unfair, Hermione? I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you?"
"Oh, be quiet, Potter," both her and I chorused, as he smirked.
"What are you three doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.
"Nothing," said Harry, Hermione, and I together, and we hurried after Ron.
The smell of roast beef made my stomach ache with hunger, but we had barely taken three steps toward the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of us, blocking their path.
"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!" he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly, "I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars, I've got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin — I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries — and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Diggory and Miss Granger will favour me by coming too."
Slughorn gave Hermione and I a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.
"I can't come, Professor," said Harry at once. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."
"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. "Dear, dear, I was counting on you, Harry! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you both later!" He bustled away out of the Hall.
"He's got no chance of persuading Snape," said Harry, the moment Slughorn was out of earshot. "This detention's already been postponed once; Snape did it for Dumbledore, but he won't do it for anyone else."
"Oh, I wish you could come, you know Slughorn better than Y/n and I!" said Hermione anxiously; I knew that she was thinking about McLaggen.
"It'll be spectacular, I'm sure," snapped Ron, who did not seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn.
After dinner we made our way back to Gryffindor Tower.
The common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner by now, but we managed to find a free table and sat down; Ron, who had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded his arms and frowned at the ceiling.
Hermione reached out for a copy of the Evening Prophet, which somebody had left abandoned on a chair.
"Anything new?" said Harry.
"Not really..." Hermione had opened the newspaper and was scanning the inside pages. "Oh, look, your dad's in here, Ron — he's all right!" she added quickly, for Ron had looked around in alarm. "It just says he's been to visit the Malfoys' house. 'This second search of the Death Eaters residence does not seem to have yielded any results. Arthur Weasley of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects said that his team had been acting upon a confidential tip-off.'"
"Yeah, mine!" said Harry. "I told him at Kings Cross about Malfoy and that thing he was trying to get Borgin to fix! Well, if it's not at their house, he must have brought whatever it is to Hogwarts with him —"
"But how can he have done, Harry?" I said as Hermione put down the newspaper with a surprised look. "We were all searched when we arrived, weren't we?"
"Were you?" said Harry, taken aback. "I wasn't!"
"Oh no," Hermione said, "of course you weren't, I forgot you were late. Well, Filch ran over all of us with Secrecy Sensors when we got into the entrance hall. Any Dark object would have been found, I know for a fact Crabbe had a shrunken head confiscated. So you see, Malfoy can't have brought in anything dangerous!"
"Someone's sent it to him by owl, then," Harry said. "His mother or someone."
"All the owls are being checked too," I added. "Filch told us so when he was jabbing those Secrecy Sensors everywhere he could reach."
Really stumped this time, Harry found nothing else to say. There did not seem to be any way Malfoy could have brought a dangerous or Dark object into the school.
He looked hopefully at Ron, who was sitting with his arms folded, staring over at Lavender Brown.
"Can you think of any way Malfoy —?"
"Oh, drop it, Harry," said Ron.
"Listen, it's not my fault Slughorn invited Y/n, Hermione and me to his stupid party, none of us wanted to go, you know!" said Harry, firing up.
"Well, as I'm not invited to any parties," said Ron, getting to his feet again, "I think I'll go to bed."
He stomped off toward the door to the boys' dormitories, leaving us staring after him.
"Harry?" said Katie Bell, appearing suddenly at his shoulder. "I've got a message for you."
"From Professor Slughorn?" asked Harry, sitting up hopefully.
"No... from Professor Snape," said Katie. Harry's heart visibly sank. "He says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight to do your detention— er— no matter how many party invitations you've received. And he wanted you to know you'll be sorting out rotten flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions and — and he says there's no need to bring protective gloves."
"Right," said Harry grimly. "Thanks a lot, Katie."
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