Chapter 7: Gryffindor Rulz
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Draco had no idea why he'd come to watch the match. Merlin, he despised both teams. As if Hufflepuff wasn't laughable enough, drifting around up there with their pleasantly dazed expressions, they were facing off against Gryffindor, for crying out loud! What a mockery of a game…
Well, maybe he might get the odd laugh out of it. It'd be vaguely amusing to see Potter fall off his broom.
He sat back in his seat sullenly and waited for it to begin in earnest. The annoying Irish accent of Finnegan rang out from the commentator's box – convenient, how yet another Gryffindor had been given that role – as he called off the names in each team.
"And secondly, playing for my very own House, we have captain Katie Bell playing as Chaser, alongside Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley. Beaters, with the unfortunate loss of our infamous Weasley twins, are now Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke. Ron Weasley playing Keeper, and of course, Harry Potter as Seeker!"
Draco miserably pressed his hands over his ears in an attempt to muffle the ensuing round of applause. Oh, there was no way he was going to enjoy this…
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The sharp burst of the whistle split the crisp, cold air, and Harry kicked off cleanly, shooting into the sky atop the Firebolt. He twisted in midair and sped off to the north side of the pitch, darting easily around other players. He maintained the high speed for a few minutes, just trying to get the rush of flying out of his blood before he set about methodically searching for the Snitch.
"And Hufflepuff's Cadwallader passes the Quaffle to Smith, who passes it back, and – oh! Stolen by Miss Ginerva Weasley! On to Thomas, on to Bell – and Gryffindor scores first goal of the match! Never in doubt, never in doubt…"
Harry smiled at the Irish boy's commentary. Seamus wasn't quite as blatant in his support for his House as Lee Jordan had been, but anyone listening could tell who he fully expected to win.
Harry turned his eyes downwards, searching for the glint of gold he was supposed to be hunting. Cedric's replacement, Summerby, hovered at the other end of the pitch opposite Harry. The two Seekers drifted slowly, gazes darting continuously.
"And Weasley blocks another Hufflepuff goal! Getting good at that, he is. Girl Weasley in possession of the Quaffle, heading for – Oh! She's hit by a Bludger! Both Kirke and Sloper failing to deflect, there!"
The Gryffindor Seeker spun in midair, his eyes searching for Ginny now. She was still on her broom, with a hand pressed to her side while she threw vicious glares at the two Beaters meant to protect her. Least she was okay, he thought with relief.
"Harry, mate! What are you doing?"
He turned at the sound of Ron's voice, only to see the redhead pointing urgently behind him. Following the indicated direction, Harry was met with the sight of Summerby heading into a full on dive, a determined look on his face.
"Hufflepuff's Seeker's seen something! He's after the Snitch! But where's Potter? If he doesn't catch this one, Hefflepuff'll be off to a head start early in the– Oh! Wait! Here we go, Potter's seen it too! He's after Summerby and gaining distance… Put that Firebolt to work, man!"
Harry flattened himself against the broom handle, his eyes trying to follow the other Seeker's line of flight. But he couldn't see whatever had attracted Summerby's attention, though. There was nothing–
A glint of gold, but not in the direction he was heading. Harry whipped his head around, searching for the sight again, finally finding it hovering to his right near the edge of the pitch. Realising his near mistake in allowing the other Seeker to fool him into following a feign, he jerked harshly on the broom handle and shot off after his target.
"What? Where's Potter going? And now Summerby's following him! It seems we had a bluff! Ah, but Hufflepuff's Seeker ain't got a chance of keeping pace with a broom like that. Look at it go! Work of art, that, work of art…"
Harry braced his ankles around the Firebolt firmly and leaned forward, extending an arm. He could feel the frantic flutters of air from the Snitch's wings tickling the tips of his fingers, the golden object just out of reach by a few centimetres.
Quite suddenly, it zipped upwards into the open air and he followed it. It dropped again almost instantly, and in pursuit of the thing he found himself practically in the midst of the spectators. Trying to ignore the rise in screams as he skimmed over their heads, he threw himself forward in a final burst of speed and felt his fingers close over the elusive little ball.
"Did he just…? He did! Potter caught the Snitch! GRYFFINDOR WIN! 180-20!"
Smiling to himself, Harry descended swiftly to join the rest of his team.
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That night, the Gryffindor common room was as loud and boisterous as it had ever been in the wake of a Quiddich victory, but for once Harry was content to remain in the company of his friends. He listened and laughed as Ron retold tales of how the Slytherins had shrieked when Harry had flown over their heads, and how Snape had looked about to curse him when he'd been forced the throw himself into Trelawny to avoid getting clipped by the Firebolt's tail. Harry grinned idiotically through most of the evening, as relieved as anyone by his own good mood.
Hermione, ecstatic to see him acting like the Harry she was used to, fully intended to take advantage of the rare phase of happiness to broach her idea.
She waited until Harry was done listening to Ron's wild and amusing stories – during which he'd snorted inelegantly into his bottle of Butterbeer when the redhead surprised him into laughing, resulting in the rather sticky stains which were currently covering his robes. When the two finally separated, Harry caught sight of her and grinned, coming to join her by the fire.
She smiled at him easily. "Having fun?"
He nodded. "Course. Are you?"
"Yes. Harry, I wanted to ask you something." Why not launch straight into it, before he got distracted again?
He blinked. "Uhm, sure. What is it?"
"I've been thinking…" she began, turning to look at him fully. "At least ten people have asked me if we're going to be continuing the DA this year. I guess I was wondering if that would be… well, okay? I think it'd be good for you, to have something to concentrate on."
He looked surprised for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, that's fine Hermione. I didn't know people even wanted to do it again."
Taken aback by his quick agreement, she took a moment to respond. She'd been expecting some sort of protest, considering the fight he'd put up against it in the first place.
"Uhm, yes. I mean, they do. It was helpful, Harry, and fun. Almost everyone who was a member last time wants to stay a part of it."
He turned green eyes on her that were, for once, alight. "I'd like that. Haven't really thought about it, but I guess… I missed it. Will you sort out the first meeting?"
She rolled her eyes at that. "You can never organise anything…" But she was smiling, and happy to sort out the details.
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When he returned to his room that night, the letter was waiting for him, as was the well known owl perched upon the coffee table. It turned cold eyes upon him when he entered.
Dear Draco,
At sixteen years of age, you are by now ready to begin following in my footsteps. In light of this, I've begun making preparations that will enable you to do just that.
In just less than a month from now, during the Hogsmeade weekend, instead of remaining in the castle for those two days, you will be returning home for a visit at Malfoy Manor. It is time you were introduced to the real aspects of life, and I expect you to handle them in an adult fashion. I suggest you spend the next few weeks considering your priorities.
I am, however, confident that you will make me proud, Draco. You have been prepared for this turning point, which is why I know you'll take the correct path.
Your Father,
Lucius A. Malfoy
Draco stared at the letter for long minutes, reading fragments of it over and over again. He knew perfectly well what his father was referring to, though the wording was ambiguous enough. And it scared him, certainly, but what scared him more was one tiny phrasing.
In just less than a month…
The words practically screamed at him, and he knew, he just knew…
Grabbing at his schoolbag, he emptied the contents onto the floor in front of him, scrabbling through the mess that fell out. He tossed aside books and bits of parchment until he found what he was looking for.
Opening out the large chart used in Astrology, he lay it out in front of him. It showed the lunar cycle imprinted across a calendar, showing which date coincided with certain cycles of the moon. He traced a finger down it, searching for the right date.
Sure enough, as he'd known it would, his second full moon matched up exactly with the Hogsmeade weekend – the weekend his father wanted him to spend at home.
The weekend he would be Marked.