Harry's summer was filled with magical training at Sirius's house and Quidditch practice in a Protego Horribilis-warded space. He joined Hufflepuff players like Cedric Diggory and Zacharias Smith, alongside a few others like Cho Chang and Angelina Johnson, who were either Cedric's friends or lived nearby.
Harry hadn't planned to join them. He was supposed to train with Slytherins like Adrian Pucey, Draco, and Captain Flint, but Flint canceled, citing Lucius Malfoy's concerns. In a letter, Flint wrote:
"Read about Dolohov? Lucius prioritizes Draco's safety. Dolohov might target them. No joint practice, but don't slack. If you're rusty at Hogwarts, you're off the team."
Determined to keep his spot, Harry consulted Sirius, who arranged for him to join Cedric's group. Cedric, a skilled Hufflepuff Chaser, outmaneuvered Slytherin's Nimbuses on a slower Cleansweep. Harry suspected Cedric's invitation wasn't purely altruistic—both likely studied each other's techniques during practice.
Despite the risk of exposing his strategies, training with Cedric was worth it. Slytherin's Chaser tryouts loomed, pitting Harry against Flint, Pucey, Warrington, and other ambitious hopefuls. Honing his skills trumped worrying about Hufflepuffs learning his moves.
"Quidditch practice feels great," Harry said, grinning at Cedric.
Cedric, tall with glossy black hair and a kind smile, treated Harry like any Hufflepuff. "No one's around here. Potter, Zach, next is a mock game. Don't slack—it's hot, but win, and I'll treat you to Fortescue's ice cream."
"Yes!" Harry replied.
"…Sure," Zacharias muttered.
Hufflepuffs didn't fully embrace Harry. Zacharias, especially, avoided him. Harry didn't blame him—his rule-breaking reputation made him a delinquent to diligent students. Instead, he let his play speak. Zacharias, less skilled than he thought, telegraphed passes with big arm swings. Harry baited him, intercepted passes, and scored repeatedly.
"Potter…" Zacharias grumbled, finally acknowledging him.
"Dirty play, Harry. Bullying?" Blaise Zabini, a handsome Black boy and Harry's close friend, teased. Staying at Yurgen Smirnov's house, Zabini joined via Yurgen's son, Andrey, not Harry.
"Ref! That's offside!" Zacharias protested.
"No rule broken. Continue, Smith," Andrey, a Ravenclaw referee, ruled.
Harry and Zabini teamed up with Hufflepuffs for intense mock games. Harry caught a Quaffle from Zabini, dodged Cho Chang's defense, and scored, the ball grazing the hoop. Cho, a passionate Ravenclaw regular, grimaced. Her beauty was renowned, but Harry admired her Quidditch fire most. She fearlessly challenged boys, later scoring three goals against keeper Harry.
At a 3 p.m. break, Harry and Zabini sipped lemon tea under a tree. Zabini nodded at Cedric, surrounded by Cho and others. "Look, Cedric's a lady-killer."
"No one hates him," Harry said, hiding a pang. Cedric and Cho seemed perfect together, unlike Harry—shorter, bespectacled, younger, and barely acquainted with Cho.
"Meanwhile, it's just us. Feel the popularity gap?" Zabini said.
"Want to join them?" Harry asked.
"Nah. I'm here to gauge my place, not buddy up," Zabini replied.
"They're good people," Harry said, not fully meaning it. Zabini seemed uninterested in fitting in.
"They wouldn't want me. I'm bad news," Zabini said, clearly haunted by his mother's scandal.
"I want to be closer to you. You didn't abandon me in first year or the Chamber," Harry said, noting the Hufflepuffs' wariness of Zabini. Cedric was neutral, but others like Zacharias couldn't hide their unease.
"Didn't stick with you 'cause I liked you. Just roommates. Fighting's a hassle," Zabini said, arms crossed. "They're scared, fine. But you know hanging with me makes you look like trash too."
"Too late for that," Harry said.
Zabini frowned. "Cho might hate you. That okay?"
"Even so, you're more important," Harry said.
"You're an idiot. You were finally getting popular, and you're throwing it away. Know how lucky you are?" Zabini snapped.
Harry appreciated Zabini's concern for his reputation, but it was already gone. "I'm already done. I can't be popular," Harry said.
"Why assume that?" Zabini asked.
"Hermione and them found out about my family at the beach. My Muggle foster parents were there. They know how I was treated. I tried to cover it up, but it's no use. I wanted to stay their hero," Harry confessed.
Zabini nearly said, "Why care now?" but stopped. He realized Harry's pain mirrored his own—both unable to fit into "normal." No matter how hard they tried, they stumbled, always outsiders. Slytherins like them, valuing cunning, sought shortcuts to become "special" when "normal" failed.
"Please, stay my friend. Not for you—for me," Harry pleaded.
Zabini gave an exasperated look, finished his tea, leaned against the tree, and covered his face with a towel, feigning sleep. Harry sipped tea beside him, recovering.
Zabini struggled in practice, missing shots even against non-keepers—a fatal flaw for a Chaser hopeful. Harry wouldn't yield his spot, even to a friend, but showcased Cedric's techniques to help Zabini improve.
After three days, both felt sharper. Post-camp, Zabini said, "Summer's halfway done. Got anything fun? I'm bored to death."
Harry and Zabini spent the remaining summer together, alternating between Sirius's and Yurgen's homes, occasionally golfing with Azrael or practicing Quidditch with Farkas. Harry envied Ron's Egypt photos and laughed at Luna's Nessie-riding pictures. He, Hermione, and Zabini researched at the wizarding library. Hermione memorized Felix Felicis and Polyjuice Potion from Most Potent Potions, while Harry spent three days studying potion theory.
Peace ended abruptly.
"Why've you got dark magic notes?!" Zabini shouted, finding Harry's hidden formulas.
"I kept my mom's stuff secret, but that balances with your past? And new dark magic? Not just Protego?" Zabini raged.
"Just for self-defense…" Harry mumbled.
"Manipulating corpses? That's not defense. This shouldn't exist. I'm burning it," Zabini said.
"Wait, Zabini!" Harry protested.
Zabini's fury over the unethical corpse-control magic nearly sparked their first real fight. Harry, repulsed by burning books but unable to deny the magic's wrongness, let Zabini torch the formulas.
"You can be normal now. Stop studying this garbage unless you want to end up like my mom," Zabini said, invoking his mother.
As the formulas burned, Harry muttered, "I learned how to counter Inferi—use fire or control them back."
"Incendio works fine. Using dark magic to counter Inferi? Zero points on a DADA test," Zabini scoffed.
"Still protects me," Harry said.
Zabini didn't argue. "No one meets Inferi, and better not. Knowing that magic lets you neutralize corpses without damage, but still…"
"You'd argue anything," Zabini sighed. "Should've gone to Durmstrang."
"Durmstrang?" Harry asked.
"Yurgen said they teach dark magic like it's normal. But you're Slytherin—act like it. Farkas is trying to fix our house's rep, and you're ruining it."
Inferi magic was ethically horrific, but Incendio sufficed. Harry's curiosity and fear of Dolohov led him to learn unnecessary dark magic. He'd already mastered three dark spells—an alarming feat for a third-year.
"You're right. Burning it was good. Thanks," Harry said, relieved despite the formulas lingering in his mind and shared with Farkas, whom he didn't mention to Zabini. Some things were better left unsaid.
Zabini, satisfied, grinned at the ashes. "I'm beat. Heading home. No gaming mood."
"Tomorrow? TRPG?" Harry asked.
"Nah, something outside."
"Quidditch needs more people. Library?" Harry suggested.
Zabini glanced at the notebook's remnants. "Not shady stuff like dark magic. Something… wholesome. Righteous. Not easy to find."
"Sirius told me something…" Harry said, sharing a story that lit Zabini's eyes with enthusiasm.
Next day, at Yurgen's, Harry and Zabini stood before the fireplace. Harry held an Invisibility Cloak; Zabini held a cooling charm for comfort under it in August heat. Harry, blue-eyed and glasses-free, and Zabini, with dreadlocks from a hair-lengthening potion, carried disguise gear.
"Let's do something righteous," Zabini said.
"Rare enthusiasm, Zabini. Good luck, boys," Anneliese, Yurgen's non-magical daughter, said. Uninterested in magic, she treated them like younger friends.
"Find her, introduce us. I'll have tea ready," Anneliese teased.
"Not like that…" Zabini mumbled.
"We'll introduce her if we succeed. Let's go," Harry said, tossing Floo Powder into the fire.
"Knockturn Alley!" they shouted, vanishing into the flames.
Anneliese, stroking her platinum-blonde hair, muttered, "Why travel like that? Aren't they scared?"
Lacking her wizard father's nerve, she lounged on the sofa, awaiting her friend, and turned on the TV.
Here comes adventure.
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