Chapter 10Chapter Text
Saturday morning was crisp and clear, perfect weather for Quidditch tryouts. Harry made his way into the Great Hall with Ginny, Hermione and Ron, feeling the familiar anticipation that came with Quidditch.
"Nervous?" Harry asked Ron, who couldn't seem to stay still.
Ron just stared at him and took a hasty gulp of pumpkin juice, his foot bouncing under the table.
"You'll be fine," Hermione said, looking amused by Ron's jitters.
"Apparently half of Gryffindor wants to try out this year," Ginny added. "Should make for quite a show."
When they left the Gryffindor table, they passed Susan and Hannah finishing their breakfast. Hannah spotted Harry first and quickly nudged Susan, whispering something that made Susan turn around with a bright smile.
"Harry! Heading to tryouts?" Susan asked, standing as they approached.
"Just leaving now," Harry replied.
"How are you feeling about it? Being captain must add extra pressure," Susan said, genuine concern in her voice.
Harry found himself appreciating her directness. "A bit, but I'm looking forward to it. Should be interesting to see what we're working with."
"You should come watch," Ginny suggested with casual enthusiasm. "I'm sure Harry could use some friendly faces in the crowd."
"I was hoping you'd ask," Susan said, falling into step beside them as they headed toward the doors. "I've been curious to see you in action as captain. The D.A. sessions have shown you're good at... leading."
Hannah waved them off with a knowing grin.
"Different kind of leadership," Harry said as they walked through the entrance hall. "Though I suppose some of the skills transfer."
"I'm sure they do," Susan agreed, and there was something in her tone that suggested she was looking forward to seeing this side of him.
As Harry had expected, the trials took most of the morning, almost thirty people having shown up just to try out, not to mention those who came to watch. There were everything from first years who could barely hold the rickety old school brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest, looking intimidating.
The latter including someone Harry recognized quite well from last night.
"Potter!" Cormac McLaggen said, clearing his throat and approaching him.
"Good to see you," He said, lowering his voice "How about we just put last night behind us eh? We both got a little carried away, but that's natural when you're talking about the important things in life!" Cormac laughed out arrogantly, patting Harry on the back.
Harry stared back with narrowed eyes.
"Tryouts should be interesting this year!" Cormac continued, seemingly ignoring Harry's hostile gaze.
"Of course, some positions are more crucial than others," McLaggen continued with a condescending tone. "Keeper, for instance. Really sets the tone for the whole team's confidence, you know." He said, shooting a glance toward Ron.
Ron's face began to redden, but Harry held up a hand.
"I'm sure the best candidate will prove themselves during tryouts," Harry said coolly. "Now why don't you wait over there with the others? I'll call you when it's time."
McLaggen's confident expression flickered slightly at the dismissal, but he walked toward the edge of the pitch with forced casualness,
"What a git!" Ron said, after McLaggen left. "Why even consider him for the team! Just tell him to go kick rocks."
"If I do that he'll just make more of a stink, I'm sure you'll do better than him Ron, after that he can't complain." Harry said, giving Ron an encouraging look.
Harry decided to start the tryouts off with a basic test, a lap around the pitch. This seemed to be a good idea as the first group of first years had seemingly never flown before. Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into a goal post.
The other groups did not prove much better, one had a massive pileup halfway around the pitch and one was seemingly comprised of Hufflepuffs.
"If there's anyone not from Gryffindor on the pitch, leave now!" Harry yelled out, somewhat annoyed.
There was a pause before a small handful of Ravenclaws scattered out while giggling.
After two hours, several complaints, crashes and tantrums, Harry had found himself three chasers. Ginny, of course, had outflown all the competition, even stopping to give him a smooch during her flight. Katie Bell returned to the team after an excellent trial, and a new find, called Demelza Robins, who was particularly good at dodging bludgers.
Unfortunately Harry had shouted himself hoarse during the Beater selection, finally managing to make a decision, and while neither had the brilliance of Fred and George, they would do.
Harry had left the Keepers for last, hoping that the crowds would decrease a bit and there would be less pressure overall, but quite the opposite had happened.
Harry decided to hold a five minute break, hoping that the crowds would relax slightly, and that his voice could recover.
He made his way behind one of the large audience boxes, before hearing a sweet and light voice from behind.
"Harry! You doing okay?" Lavender asked, moving to stand next to him.
"Yeah just needed a few minutes," He said, breathing out some tension he didn't realize he even had.
"Well you've been doing great, I don't know if you've seen but I've been watching the whole thing!" Lavender said with her usual bubbly tone.
Harry had indeed seen Lavender in the crowd, cheering and jumping around at every possible moment. She had even blown him a few kisses, when she didn't think anyone was watching.
"Thank you for the support Lav, I appreciate it" Harry said
"It's the least I can do… You know, after the last D.A. session, Ginny and I talked a little…"
This caught Harry's attention.
"And, well, she didn't really mention any specifics, but I kinda got the impression that she was, you know… not opposed to us getting to know each other?"
"I guess you could call it that…" Harry said, leveling his gaze at Lavender.
"That's good to know… You know Hogsmeade is coming up soon! Maybe we should do something then?" Lavender said with a dreamy smile on her face.
"Sounds great, Lav. I'd love to get to know you a bit more," Harry said, starting to hear people looking for him.
Ginny popped out from around the corner, spotting them and pausing. Harry could see her breathing slightly heavier, and Lav seemed to unconsciously get closer.
"Harry, they're looking for you." Ginny breathed out.
"I'm coming," Harry said. As he started to walk back, Lavender gave him a quick smile and headed back toward the stands.
"See you later, Harry," she called over her shoulder.
Ginny fell into step beside him, but instead of heading straight back to the pitch, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a shadowy alcove between two of the wooden stands.
"Ginny, what-" Harry started, but she silenced him by pressing her lips to his.
The kiss was hungry, urgent in a way that made Harry's pulse race. Her hands tangled in his hair as she pressed closer to him, and he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest.
"Merlin, Harry," she whispered against his lips when they broke apart, her eyes bright with something that looked almost like fever. "Watching you with her... the way she looked at you..."
"Did you like it?" Harry asked, his voice rougher than usual.
"More than I should," Ginny admitted, kissing him again, softer this time but no less intense. "You have no idea what it does to me..."
She pulled back slightly, studying his face. "How did it feel? Having her so interested?"
"Different," Harry said honestly. "Good, I think. Like you said it would."
Ginny's smile was slow and satisfied. "This is just the beginning, Harry."
In the distance, they could hear people calling Harry's name more insistently.
"You'd better get back," Ginny said, though she made no move to let go of him. "Your team needs their captain."
Harry kissed her once more, quick but thorough, before they emerged from the alcove. As they walked back toward the pitch together, Harry found himself thinking about how right Ginny had been.
After getting back and getting set up, the Keeper tryouts finally started. Surprisingly there were only two. Ron and McLaggen.
Harry glanced over at Ron, who had always had issues with his nerves. He had hoped winning their final match last term would have cured it, but apparently not. Ron looked to be a delicate shade of green.
To Harry's great disappointment, Cormac managed to save four goals out of five. On the last one however, he shot off in completely the wrong direction, causing the crowd to jeer and laugh. McLaggen returned to the ground, gnashing his teeth in frustration.
Ron looked like he was about to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven.
Despite Harry's worries, Ron managed to save all five penalties in a row. Delighted and managing to resist joining the cheers of the crowd, Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen's steaming red face inches from his.
"His sister was holding back," McLaggen said menacingly. There was a vein in his temple, which reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon. "She gave him an easy save."
"I'm afraid not, McLaggen," Harry said coolly.
"Give me another go!" McLaggen yelled out.
"No," said Harry "You had your go, and you lost. Ron saved five, you saved four. Ron's keeper. Now get out of my face before we have a repeat of last night." Harry said, with a serious voice.
He thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch him, but he only gave Harry an ugly grimace before storming away, growling what sounded like threats to empty ears.
Ron landed heavily, still looking somewhat green but grinning widely as the crowd erupted in cheers. "Well done, Ron," Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You earned that spot."
"I still can't believe I actually saved all five," Ron said, voice shaky with relief.
"Harry!" Susan's voice called out as she approached, slightly out of breath from hurrying over. "That was really something, watching you be captain."
"Thanks," Harry said. "Bit chaotic, wasn't it?"
"Well, yeah, but you handled it brilliantly," Susan said, then blushed slightly. "I mean, all those people trying out, and you kept everything organized. Even when that first year crashed into the goalpost." She giggled a bit at the memory.
"Poor kid," Harry said with a grin. "At least he stayed on his broom for a few seconds."
"And Ron was fantastic in the end, wasn't he?" Susan continued, then looked at Harry with genuine admiration. "You must be pleased with how it all worked out."
"Yeah, I am," Harry said. "Should be a good team this year."
Susan smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. "I have to admit, I've never really paid much attention to Quidditch matches before. But I think I might actually come watch this year."
"Really?" Harry asked, surprised but pleased.
"Well," Susan said, her cheeks turning pink, "it might be nice to have a reason to care about the outcome for once."
There was something in the way she said it that made Harry very aware of how she was looking at him, and how Ginny was watching the exchange.
As the crowd began to disperse, Harry felt his stomach rumble loudly. They made their way back toward the castle, Ron still buzzing with excitement about his successful tryout.
The Great Hall was already filling with students for dinner when they arrived. As they settled at the Gryffindor table, Ginny sliding in beside Harry and absently beginning to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, Harry spotted a familiar massive figure at the far end of the hall - Hagrid, sitting alone and methodically working through what appeared to be an enormous portion of shepherd's pie.
"There's Hagrid," Harry said, nodding toward the gamekeeper.
"Should we go say hello?" Hermione asked, though she looked uncertain.
Harry caught Hagrid's eye across the hall and waved. Instead of his usual booming greeting and enthusiastic wave back, Hagrid merely glanced at them briefly before pointedly returning his attention to his meal.
"He's still upset about us not taking his NEWT class," Ron said quietly, helping himself to roast chicken.
"We should go talk to him," Hermione said, already starting to rise. "We can't leave things like this."
They made their way across the hall, weaving between the long tables until they reached where Hagrid sat. He continued to ignore their approach until Harry cleared his throat.
"Hello, Hagrid."
"Oh. You lot," Hagrid said without looking up, his voice notably cooler than usual. "Come ter enjoy yer dinner, have yeh? Don't let me keep yeh from yer important business."
"Hagrid, that's not fair," Hermione said gently, sliding onto the bench across from him. "We wanted to see you."
"Nothing ter see here," Hagrid said gruffly, finally looking up at them. His beetle-black eyes were hurt despite his attempt at indifference. "Just old Hagrid, not important enough fer yer fancy NEWT classes."
"That's not true," Harry said earnestly, sitting down beside Hermione. "We wanted to take Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid. It's just that for our career paths-"
"Career paths," Hagrid snorted. "Right. Too important now fer dangerous creatures that won't help yeh become Aurors or whatever it is yeh want ter do."
The pain in his voice was unmistakable, and Harry felt a stab of guilt. Ron shifted uncomfortably beside him.
"Hagrid," Hermione said softly, "your classes meant so much to us. Remember the hippogriffs? And the Thestrals - Harry's told us how much that helped him understand-"
"Really?" Hagrid's expression softened slightly, though he tried to maintain his stern demeanor.
"Of course," Harry said quickly. "Your lessons taught us more about magical creatures than anyone else could. Even the blast-ended skrewts… we learned so much from you."
Hagrid's lower lip began to tremble slightly. He looked around the Great Hall, then back at them, his composure starting to crumble.
"It's not just that," he said, his voice becoming thick with emotion. "It's... it's Aragog. He's... he's not well. Not well at all."
"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned despite his personal feelings about the massive spider.
"He's old, see," Hagrid said, his eyes filling with tears. "Very old for an Acromantula. Been with me since I was just a boy here at Hogwarts. And now he's... he can barely move. Can't hunt fer himself anymore. His children are having ter bring him food, and even then..." Hagrid's voice broke entirely.
"Oh, Hagrid," Hermione said, reaching across the table to pat his enormous hand.
"I don't think he's got much time left," Hagrid continued, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "And I don't know what I'll do without him. Raised him from an egg, I did. He's been with me longer than... longer than anyone."
The four friends sat in silence for a moment, all thoughts of academic disappointment forgotten in the face of Hagrid's genuine grief.
"I'm sorry, Hagrid," Harry said quietly. "I know how much he means to you."
"Is there anything we can do?" Hermione asked gently, though Harry noticed Ron looked rather alarmed at the prospect.
"I don't think so," Hagrid said, attempting to pull himself together. "The rest of his family... they're getting a bit restive with him being so ill. Bit dangerous fer anyone but me ter go near the colony right now."
"Well," Harry said, "if there's anything at all we can help with, you know we're here."
Hagrid looked at them with watery eyes, and slowly, his usual warm smile began to return.
"Yeh know what?" he said, voice still rough but considerably warmer. "I reckon I was being a bit unfair. Course yeh had ter make the right choices fer yer futures. I understand that, really I do."
"We'll still visit," Ginny promised. "And we want to hear about all your creatures."
"Aye, well," Hagrid said, looking considerably cheered. "I suppose I can forgive yeh this once. Now then, yeh'd better get back ter yer dinners before they get cold."
As they made their way back to the Gryffindor table, Harry felt relieved that they'd cleared the air with Hagrid, though his heart ached for the gamekeeper's obvious pain about Aragog.
"Poor Hagrid," Hermione murmured as they sat back down.
After dinner they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The common room was crowded, as most people had finished eating by now, but they managed to find a free table and sat down. Ron, who had been in a good mood since making the team, was still recounting his saves to anyone who would listen.
As Harry spotted Cormac McLaggen entering through the portrait hole, something about his movement caught his attention. McLaggen seemed to be walking strangely, almost stumbling, shaking his head as if trying to clear fog from his mind. It took him two attempts to navigate around a chair.
"Look at McLaggen," Harry said quietly to Hermione. "He's walking like he's been hit with a Confundus Charm."
Hermione's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, and she suddenly became very interested in arranging her quill case.
"What?" she said defensively when Harry continued to stare at her.
"If you ask me," Harry said quietly, "McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was flying right in front of where you were sitting."
Hermione blushed even deeper. "Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and the team! And that's not to mention how he behaved yesterday!."
"Wasn't that dishonest, Hermione?" Harry asked, though he was smirking slightly. "I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you?"
"Oh, be quiet," she snapped.
Before Harry could respond further, Hermione reached for a copy of the Prophet that someone had left abandoned on a nearby chair.
"Anything new?" Harry asked, settling back in his seat.
"Not really..." Hermione said, scanning the pages. Then she paused, her expression growing troubled. "Oh, look at this."
She folded the paper and pointed to a headline: "KNIGHT BUS CONDUCTOR ARRESTED: Stanley Shunpike Held on Suspicion of Death Eater Activity."
"Stan Shunpike?" Harry said incredulously, leaning forward to read over her shoulder. "That's ridiculous."
"It says here he was arrested based on 'overheard conversations of a suspicious nature' and 'association with known Dark wizards,'" Hermione read aloud.
"That's mad," Ron said, looking up from his conversation with some second-years. "Stan's about as dangerous as a flobberworm. I've ridden the Knight Bus loads of times - the man can barely remember which end of his wand to hold."
"Exactly," Harry said grimly. "This is just the Ministry trying to look like they're doing something. Arresting someone harmless like Stan is easy - makes it seem like they're making progress against Voldemort."
Hermione nodded, her expression troubled. "While the real Death Eaters go free. How many other innocent people do you think are sitting in Azkaban right now?"
The thought sent a chill down Harry's spine. If the Ministry was this desperate to appear effective, who else might they have wrongfully imprisoned?
"It's getting worse out there," Ginny said quietly, having overheard their conversation. "Mum's letters have been... different lately. More worried."
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, the reality of the world outside Hogwarts pressing down on them.
Before they could discuss it further, Demelza Robins appeared at Harry's shoulder, looking nervous but determined.
"Harry?" she said quietly. "I've got a message for you."
"From who?" Harry asked, though he had a sinking feeling he already knew.
"Professor Snape," Demelza replied, confirming his fears. "He says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight for your detention. And he says..." she paused, looking uncomfortable, "he says there's no need to bring protective gloves, because you'll be sorting through rotten flobberworms with your bare hands."
Harry grimaced. "Right. Thanks, Demelza."
As she hurried away, Harry checked his watch. Quarter past eight now - which gave him exactly fifteen minutes before what promised to be a thoroughly unpleasant evening with Severus Snape.
At half past eight precisely, Harry stood outside Snape's office door, steeling himself for whatever unpleasantness awaited him inside. He knocked once and heard Snape's cold voice bid him enter.
The office was as dimly lit as always, candles casting long shadows across shelves lined with pickled specimens and strange tomes. Snape sat behind his desk, a quill in his hand and a stack of essays before him. He didn't look up as Harry entered.
"You're late, Potter," Snape said without raising his eyes from the parchment he was marking.
"Actually, sir, it's exactly half past eight," Harry replied, checking his watch.
"I said we would start at half past eight, which means you should have been here before half past eight," Snape said silkily, finally looking up with his usual sneer. "But I suppose punctuality, like so many other virtues, is beyond your capabilities."
Harry bit back his retort and remained silent.
Snape set down his quill and gestured toward a table in the corner of the room. Upon it sat several large jars filled with what appeared to be dead flobberworms in various stages of decay.
"Your task tonight, Potter, is simple even by your standards," Snape said, rising from his chair. "You will sort through these flobberworms, separating those that are merely dead from those that are rotting. The dead ones can still be used in certain potions. The rotting ones are useless and will be disposed of."
Harry approached the table and immediately regretted it. The smell was overwhelming - a mixture of rotting fish and something far worse.
"As I mentioned," Snape continued with obvious satisfaction, "you will be doing this with your bare hands. The oils on your skin will help determine which specimens are still usable."
"Right," Harry said through gritted teeth, rolling up his sleeves.
For the next hour, Harry worked in silence, trying to breathe through his mouth as he sorted through the disgusting creatures. Snape continued marking essays, occasionally looking up to watch Harry's progress with evident enjoyment.
It was during one of these glances that Snape spoke again.
"Tell me, Potter," he said casually, "how are you finding your new role as Quidditch captain?"
Harry looked up suspiciously. Snape rarely made conversation during detentions, and never about Quidditch.
"Fine," Harry said cautiously.
"Leadership," Snape said, his quill scratching harshly across parchment, "separates the wheat from the chaff. Some rise to it. Others..." He looked pointedly at Harry. "Others let it go to their heads."
Harry said nothing, sensing a trap.
"Your father was Quidditch captain," Snape continued, his voice taking on its familiar edge of contempt. "Strutted around the castle thinking himself above everyone else. Used every opportunity to show off."
"You always say that about him," Harry said, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.
"Because it was true," Snape replied coldly. "James Potter was an arrogant show-off who never met a rule he wouldn't break if it suited his purposes." His dark eyes fixed on Harry. "The question is whether his son has learned anything from his failures."
"What failures?" Harry demanded.
Snape's smile was thin and cruel. "Dead at twenty-one, Potter. That's quite a failure, wouldn't you say?"
Harry felt his anger flare. "He died fighting Voldemort!"
"He died because he was reckless," Snape snapped. "Because he believed his own legend. Because he thought being brave was the same as being smart."
The room fell into tense silence. Snape returned to his marking, but Harry could sense the professor's attention was still focused on him.
"The Dark Lord has returned," Snape said quietly, not looking up. "This war will not be won by heroes charging blindly into battle. It will be won by those who can think, who can make hard choices, who can see beyond their own righteousness."
Harry watched Snape's face carefully, trying to read the expression there. "Is that what you do? Make hard choices?"
Something flickered across Snape's features - so quickly Harry almost missed it. "Every day, Potter. Every single day."
For a moment, Harry caught a glimpse of something in Snape's eyes - not hatred, but something deeper. Weariness, perhaps. Or pain.
"Why do you care what happens to me?" Harry asked suddenly.
Snape's quill stilled. When he looked up, his expression was carefully blank. "I don't. But I have... obligations. Debts that must be repaid."
"What kind of debts?"
"The kind that are none of your business," Snape said sharply, returning to his marking with unnecessary force.
They worked in silence for the remaining twenty minutes. When the detention ended, Harry's hands were raw and reeking despite multiple washings.
"Potter," Snape called as Harry gathered his things.
Harry turned back.
"Your mother had a rare gift," Snape said quietly, his voice unreadable. "Try not to squander yours."
Before Harry could respond, Snape had turned away, effectively dismissing him.
As Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower, he found himself thinking about the strange sadness he'd glimpsed in Snape's eyes, and wondering what debts could possibly drive a man to such bitterness.
Stepping through the portrait and into the common room, Harry rubbed his still-aching hands against his robes. The flobberworm stench seemed to cling to him despite his attempts to wash it off.
A few younger students were still up, huddled around a Transfiguration textbook and looking miserable.
He climbed the stairs to his dormitory, where Ron was already snoring loudly. Harry changed into his pajamas quietly, but sleep didn't come easily. His mind drifted to thoughts of Ginny, Lavender, Susan… and even Hermione.
And underneath it all, Snape's words echoed: "Your mother had a rare gift," Snape said quietly, his voice unreadable. "Try not to squander yours."
Harry stared at the ceiling of his four-poster bed, wondering what his mother would think of the choices he was making.