The next morning, unable to contain his excitement, Harry Apparated to the Cannons training facility half an hour early. He told himself he would just wait outside and enjoy the fresh air, even if no one else had arrived yet.
He jogged partway round the pitch before reversing course and heading towards the building in search of conversation. This was unprecedented behaviour on his part, he realised, as he normally avoided meeting new people. Further evidence, he supposed, that he was entering uncharted territory.
He was pleased to find Lara there, standing alone at the kettle. 'Good morning, Lara,' he said brightly, causing her to startle and turn around.
'Good morning … Harry,' she said, as if unsure whether to use his given name. 'Is there something I can help you with?'
'No, no. I was just keen to have a look around before getting started. How are you this morning?'
'I'm well, thanks. And you?'
'To be honest, I'm a bundle of nerves,' he confessed. 'I've never done anything quite this mad before.'
His candour had the desired effect, and she smiled. 'That's not what I've heard,' she said cheekily. 'I seem to recall something last year about you and your mates breaking into Gringotts.'
'Good point—I stand corrected,' he laughed.
'But really,' she said, 'you've nothing to be nervous about. It's all of us who are nervous.'
'Sorry about that. There's really no need—I'm just happy to be here, and to get back up on a broomstick.'
'I can see why!' she exclaimed. 'That was some brilliant flying yesterday. Darius couldn't stop talking about it afterwards. He wanted me to hunt down a Pensieve so he could show Tuttle, but I pointed out she'd see it for herself soon enough.'
'Who's Tuttle?' asked Harry.
'Marjorie Tuttle, the head coach. You'll meet her presently. She's … formidable. Played Beater for the Wasps in the early eighties, with Ludo Bagman. They say she's the one who kept him in line.'
'I'm impressed,' said Harry. 'And slightly alarmed."
Lara lowered her voice and leaned towards him. 'Last night, Ryan—one of the Chasers—told me she gave everyone a stern lecture on how to interact with you.'
'Oh dear, what did she say?'
'The phrase that stands out was, "He shits from his arse like the rest of us."'
Harry burst out laughing. 'Brilliant! I like her already.'
'I'll show you to your locker,' said Lara. 'You'll find your new broomstick there. But don't bring it to practice straight away—Tuttle always starts the session with running and calisthenics.'
'Sounds familiar,' he said, recalling his Auror training routine.
She led him to the men's changing area and pointed out his locker, where he placed his clean clothes for later. He was pleased to find his new Silver Arrow awaiting him there.
Next she handed him a fresh set of black robes. 'Whenever you're flying you'll need to wear robes, to simulate match conditions.'
Seeing their colour—or lack thereof—Harry felt slightly disappointed. 'Why aren't they orange?' he asked.
'These are just training robes—they're charmed to change colour depending on which team you're assigned to during practice.'
She showed him the weight room next. 'You probably won't spend much time in here, if any, since Seekers don't require as much upper body strength as Chasers and Beaters do. But not to worry, the trainers will keep you busy enough, even without weights.'
When they returned to the main entrance area, they found Darius chatting with a solidly-built middle-aged woman.
'There you are!' exclaimed Darius. 'Bright and early—splendid.' He turned to the woman and said, 'See, I told you he wasn't a prima donna.'
'I never claimed he was,' she said tartly before facing Harry. 'I'm Marjorie Tuttle, the head coach. You can call me Tuttle.'
'Nice to meet you, Tuttle. I'm Harry Potter.'
'Excellent, thanks for clearing up that mystery. I was ready to call in security.'
Darius laughed. 'Harry, I probably should have warned you about her, but I wanted to wait until after you'd signed the contract.'
'Welcome to the Cannons, Potter,' said Tuttle, extending her hand, which Harry shook. Merlin, she's strong!
'I'm thrilled to be here,' he replied.
As he spoke, the door opened and a well-built young man entered. His eyebrows rose slightly when he noticed Harry, but otherwise he seemed unperturbed.
'And here's Bellamy,' said Darius cheerfully. 'I won't bother introducing you right now—you'll meet him along with the others presently.'
Bellamy gave Harry a friendly nod before heading towards the changing area, and Lara resumed her tasks.
Tuttle eyed Harry appraisingly. 'You look athletic enough, but make no mistake, I'll put you through your paces just as I would any other recruit. That's the problem with wizards—as soon as they're cleared to Apparate they become downright flabby.'
Harry tried not to look overconfident, but he wasn't at all worried—a year of Auror training had got him into peak condition. It hadn't started that way, however. Months of meagre forest rations during the war had left him bordering on feeble, and even though he'd gained weight under Fleur's and Kreacher's care, he was in poor shape when Auror training commenced. The staff Healer had required him to take nutrition potions for several months until he'd gained sufficient muscle mass.
After his year of training he could best be described as wiry, which he knew was hereditary more than anything. His father had been skinny, and Harry was, after all, related to Aunt Petunia. But he was strong for his size and had exceptional stamina, which probably had its origin in all those stairs he'd climbed back at Hogwarts.
Harry looked back at Tuttle and said, 'I'll do my best.' Her reply was a curt nod.
By then, a number of his teammates had passed through on their way to the lockers. It was nearly nine o'clock.
'Harry, did you make a decision about that procedure we discussed?' asked Darius.
'Yes—I'd like to go ahead with it.'
'Splendid!' replied Darius. 'I'll contact the fellow straight away, and I might try pulling a string or two at the Ministry to hurry things along. Ideally we'll have you sorted by the end of the week.'
Tuttle suddenly barked, 'Right, that's enough standing about. Cannons, outside, all of you!'
Harry snapped to attention and trotted outside towards the pitch. He was followed by the other players who were still in the building.
Everyone gathered near the benches where Harry had unboxed his new broomstick the day before, but nobody sat down. It was a larger group than he'd anticipated, but then he realised it would include reserve players as well as the starters. They waited silently for Tuttle to address them.
'As all of you know, unless you've been living under a Hippogriff, we have a new player starting today.' She glanced towards Harry, who tried to keep his expression neutral. 'I suspect most of you grew up hearing bedtime stories about him.' Several players unconsciously nodded.
'Right, I want you all to forget that load of bollocks,' she stated bluntly. Harry's eyes widened slightly, and he suppressed the urge to smile. He couldn't wait to tell Ron about this.
'The only thing I want you to take from Potter's well-publicised life story is that he's shown he can get the job done. And that's what we're trying to do here. To do what the fans are paying us to do: to win the bloody game. You're all capable of doing it. You've just got to be single-minded about it, like this poor bastard was,' she said, indicating Harry.
'And Potter, if you're here for a holiday, think again. This isn't just a chance for you to muck about on a broomstick and get your wand polished. You're here to work your arse off and catch the bleeding Snitch, full stop.'
Harry reddened slightly. He wasn't just here for a holiday, was he? He uncomfortably recalled his conversation with Kingsley about 'pudding.'
'Right then, give me ten laps around the pitch!' she ordered, and everyone started running.
Harry was grateful for the activity, which spared him from having to look anyone in the eye. It also gave him time to reflect.
What's so wrong with wanting a holiday? He certainly intended to work hard—that was a given. And Ron would have his hide if he didn't take the game seriously.
But Tuttle was wrong—there was a vast gulf between giving your utmost to a team and sacrificing everything to fight Voldemort. It was the difference between Oliver Wood making them practise flying six days a week, versus pressing onward into the Chamber of Secrets and desperately thrusting Gryffindor's sword into a Basilisk's mouth. It was the difference between flying to catch a Snitch versus flying to rescue Malfoy and Goyle from Fiendfyre.
I'm going to have a holiday if I bloody well want one, thought Harry defiantly.
Deeper down, Harry's thoughts kept straying towards Tuttle's other remark—the one about his 'wand.' Apart from his brief flirtation with Cho Chang, he had only ever been with Ginny, and his heart still ached for her. He'd intended to marry her one day, but that future had been wiped from existence.
He knew that other girls at Hogwarts had fancied him, and he'd even been slipped a couple of Floo addresses by witches he'd encountered during the previous year. But he'd never considered them.
Now, however ... there was nothing to keep him from having fun. He grinned, recalling his recent conversation with George on the topic. Isn't this what we fought the war for?
He eventually completed his laps and stood to wait with the few others who had also finished. They each used their wand to conjure and fill a water bottle, and as Harry drank he relished the vibrant energy coursing through his body. He always felt wonderfully alive after a long run.
After the entire group had gathered, one of the trainers began leading them through a series of calisthenics. The exercises were more strenuous than his Auror training had been, but at least nobody was hexing him. Afterwards they were excused for a short break, and Harry was told to return with his broomstick and robes.
Some of the other players chatted as they walked to the lockers, and the one Darius had called Bellamy approached Harry. 'Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Ryan Bellamy. Welcome to the team.'
'Thanks, it's great to be here,' replied Harry. 'What position do you play?'
'I'm a starting Chaser, along with Darren and Renée,' he said, indicating two of the others.
'Brilliant,' said Harry. 'I'm really looking forward to meeting the team. So far I've only talked to Darius, Tuttle, and Lara.'
'Lara's terrific,' said Ryan absently as they arrived in the changing room and parted ways.
Everyone soon returned the pitch, wearing robes and carrying broomsticks. Many of the other players looked admiringly at Harry's new Silver Arrow, and he felt a flash of discomfort, remembering how at Hogwarts his Nimbus and Firebolt had attracted envious stares from all sides. But then he noticed that the other players all had high-end broomsticks—reserve players included—and his discomfort vanished.
The assistant trainers divided the players into small groups and started running airborne drills, most of which were familiar to Harry from his Gryffindor days. Merlin, these people can fly! he thought. Harry had watched professional Quidditch players before, from the stands at least, but it was another thing entirely to be in the air alongside them.
Every one of his teammates was clearly a flying prodigy, just like Harry. It felt wonderful to move with them in synchronisation, as if their minds were somehow linked as well, and Harry felt buoyant in a way that surpassed mere flying. Was this what it was like for Fred and George when they'd played together as Beaters?
The time passed quickly, and even though they'd hardly spoken while flying their manoeuvres, Harry already felt a stronger bond with his teammates than he'd have believed possible with people he hadn't yet been introduced to.
Tuttle eventually blew a whistle—charmed for extra loudness—to draw them back to the benches. Some of the players made a game of descending extremely near to one another, pretending to battle over control of an invisible Quaffle. There was a lot of good-natured laughter as everyone landed.
'Good work, people,' said Tuttle, temporarily discarding her sarcasm. 'And that was decent flying, Potter. I'll have a closer look at you after lunch during the Seeker drills. Now, off to the showers, and see you all at half past one.'
Harry made his way towards Ryan, mostly because he was the only player whose name he knew for certain. 'May I join you for lunch?' he asked.
'Yes, of course. Normally the starters eat together in the village nearby and the reserves go elsewhere.'
Harry frowned, not approving of this apparent class system, until Ryan explained. 'It's because the reserves prefer wizarding restaurants, whereas we generally stick to Muggle settings, to keep a lower profile. Fewer interruptions that way.'
'Suits me fine,' said Harry, relieved. It was nice to meet people other than Ron and Hermione who understood his aversion to the public eye.
After everyone had showered and changed clothes, Harry and the other starters began walking towards Upper Codlington, the Muggle village just up the road. Harry was surprised by how near it was to the Cannons training facility, but Ryan explained that the team had a wards expert on retainer, who examined and reinforced the invisibility barriers and Muggle-repelling charms every week.
There seemed to be a tacit decision to postpone introductions until they reached the pub and ordered their lunch. The teammates sat around a circular table in a semi-private alcove and were greeted by an older Muggle waitress, who was clearly familiar with them.
'I see you've brought a new friend,' she said, indicating Harry. 'What's your name, love?'
'Harry,' he said, smiling. 'And yours?'
'I'm Candice,' she replied. 'Will you be joining us often, then?'
'I will,' said Harry, with a swell of pleasure. This was going to be his new life.
Nearly all the players ordered 'the usual,' and Candice obviously knew what they meant. When she finally came around to Harry, she asked, 'And Henry, what will you be having?'
One of the players coughed, her eyes bright with amusement, and the others were clearly smothering grins.
'I'll have the cottage pie and a glass of water, please,' he replied, noticing his teammates' reactions and anticipating what was to follow.
After Candice had gone, there was a shared burst of laughter. The witch who had coughed said, 'That was priceless. I can't wait to tell my nan—she's got commemorative fine china on the wall from when you received your Order of Merlin, First Class.'
Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled. Seized by a playful urge—and possibly channelling a Weasley twin—he looked around the table and said, 'Good afternoon, I'm Henry Punter, pleasure to meet you. And who are you lot?'
More laughter, and everyone introduced themselves. There were the three Chasers—Ryan, Darren, and Renée—and two burly young wizards, Gary and Suresh, who were the team Beaters. Harry was fleetingly reminded of Crabbe and Goyle, due to their size, but they were considerably less Neanderthal-looking. And the witch who had spoken earlier was called Janet and played Keeper.
Harry looked at them carefully a moment and asked, 'I'm sorry but ... why don't I know any of you from Hogwarts?'
The group burst out laughing yet again. 'Classic ...' murmured Suresh.
Harry frowned, but Ryan looked at him warmly. 'I'm glad you're sitting down, Harry, for I've some shocking news,' he said in a grave voice. 'There are wizarding schools in Great Britain other than Hogwarts. I realise no one ever talks about them, but they do exist, and in fact they're what most people attend. Most witches and wizards, that is.'
'I made the same mistake when I arrived,' commented Gary. 'I was in Hufflepuff, five years ahead of you. We faced each other once, in your first year, but I'd be surprised if you remembered me.'
'Oh right. My second year the match against Hufflepuff was cancelled due to the Basilisk attacks,' recalled Harry.
Suresh smirked. 'Basilisk attacks—yes, quite so. Nothing says "Top wizarding school in Great Britain" like a few petrifications.'
Harry reddened but couldn't deny his point. Looking around the table, he enquired, 'So tell me more about these other schools. How many are there? I'm sorry I've never heard of them before now—I was raised by Muggles and kept in the dark about all things wizarding.'
This time Renée spoke, 'There are several dozen wizarding schools in Great Britain, and more in Ireland besides. Ryan and I both attended Widgington Academy, and Darren attended Blockhurst.' She paused, looking at Janet and Suresh. 'Sorry, can't remember where you two went.'
'I attended North Squiffing Secondary,' said Janet. "And Suresh, you went to Binglingham, right?'
'That's correct,' he said. 'Basilisk-free since 1761.'
Janet looked at Harry and said, 'No offence, but I'm curious ... how did you think wizarding Britain functioned with only one school. Did you really think the population was that small?'
Harry supposed he had. Embarrassed, he nodded.
Suresh persisted. 'You've been to the Ministry—how did you think a tiny population supported such a huge government?'
'Er, magic?' replied Harry tentatively, and the others laughed.
'Go easy on him,' admonished Ryan. 'I think he was a bit preoccupied these last few years. But I'm sure you'll remember from now on, right Harry?'
'I will, definitely,' he replied. 'But hang on a moment ... where were all these invisible wizards when we were fighting Voldemort? There were only a handful of us in the Order of the Phoenix.'
'That was Albus Dumbledore's group, right?' said Suresh. 'I reckon he was part of the problem—apparently he didn't have a very high opinion of the wizarding hoi polloi.'
'Yeah,' added Renée. 'My parents sent him an owl asking to join the resistance, but they never heard back.' Darren nodded in confirmation.
Harry could no longer conceal his irritation. How many people had died because Dumbledore couldn't be arsed to reply to an owl?
Janet, looking more serious than she had earlier, turned towards Harry. 'We may not have been in the Order of the Phoenix, but we found other ways of resisting. My mum organised patrols to keep watch over residential neighbourhoods, and my uncles led an effort to ward a bunch of Muggle schools and hospitals.'
'I'm a half-blood,' said Renée. "Most of us are, in fact,' she said, looking around the table. 'My father and aunt had to go into hiding because of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. Same with Gary. And Ryan ...'
All eyes turned towards the Chaser. 'My father's a Muggle, which unfortunately was common knowledge. Apparently some of the Death Eaters weren't Cannons fans,' he added ruefully. 'They attacked my grandparents.'
Ryan looked down a moment before continuing.
'We had to hide my relations on that side of the family. Not very easy either, since we couldn't risk violating the Statute on Secrecy by explaining things properly. We devised a cock-and-bull story about my dad working on a top-secret project—he's an engineer—and that he'd been targeted by a terrorist organisation.
'To make matters worse, the team had to keep playing matches all the while. Not Gary, of course, and Suresh wasn't with us back then. But the Ministry demanded that the Quidditch leagues continue, "to maintain normalcy,"' he said officiously, reminding Harry of Percy.
'What a joke,' spat Ryan. 'The fans were too terrified to show up. The only people in attendance were Death Eaters and their collaborators—they'd magically shrunk the seating area so it wouldn't look too empty. I once had to restrain Andrew, one of the Beaters, from knocking a Bludger into the stands. They'd killed his cousin.'
Everyone was quiet for a short while, until Suresh spoke up. 'I wasn't in England then—my parents insisted my sisters and I stay with family in India. Two of my uncles had died in the first Wizarding War, and they couldn't bear losing anyone else. I played for a team in Bangalore.'
Their food finally arrived, and everyone seemed grateful to have a break from the conversation. Harry felt awful. This was his fault—he shouldn't have asked them whether they'd helped during the war. The group ate in silence.
Harry was surprised when Ryan looked up suddenly and said, 'Thank you, Harry. I can't even say how much I appreciate what you and your mates did for all of us. Bloody hell, breaking into Gringotts,' he said, shaking his head in amazement. The other players nodded.
'Right, about that,' said Suresh curiously. 'Nobody ever explained why you had to break into Gringotts—and half destroy it, mind you. As I recall, the Ministry just said it was "necessary for the final war effort." What was going on there?'
Harry swallowed. Kingsley, as Acting Minister, had issued orders never to speak publicly about the Horcruxes, which were considered dangerous knowledge. Harry agreed wholeheartedly, and for personal reasons besides. If everyone knew about Voldemort's Horcruxes, someone would surely deduce the significance of his own scar.
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'That's classified, and for good reason.'
His last words came out more sharply than he'd intended, causing everyone to freeze momentarily.
'Blimey,' exclaimed Janet. 'A bit intense, are we?'
Harry laughed. 'Sorry, Auror training habit. I'm trying to change my ways.' He was relieved to see the others had relaxed as well.
Darren said, 'I reckon Tuttle was off the mark when she said you'd better not slack off and take a holiday. It looks like you need a bloody holiday.'
'Thank you! She knocked me for a real loop there,' confessed Harry. 'Made me feel like I was some dilettante, just playing for my own amusement.'
'That's Tuttle for you,' Gary said. 'She's hard on all of us, though. You mustn't take it personally.'
'I thought she was brilliant,' said Renée. 'So, Harry, when are we getting your wand polished? Are you free tonight, or do we have to put it off till the weekend? And stop looking at me like that, you pervert—I'm gay.'
Harry was mortified but highly amused. This conversation was nothing like what he'd anticipated that morning.
'And you're too short for me,' chimed Janet, who was tall and long-limbed like most Keepers.
'And judging from that tasty redhead you've been photographed with, I don't think you swing Suresh's way,' added Renée. Harry reddened, thinking momentarily of Ginny.
'But it's team policy: no funny business between players, or staff for that matter. So if you're here to get a leg over, you'll have to look farther afield,' said Janet.
Darren smiled roguishly. 'You'll find that being a Cannon has its advantages. The team name alone is a conversation starter.'
'Merlin, I never thought of that,' admitted Harry.
'But seriously, are you actually looking for a partner? What about the above-mentioned redhead?' Renée asked.
Harry sighed. 'Out of the picture, I'm afraid.'
'And not your decision, I gather?'
'No, it wasn't.'
'I feel a project forming,' declared Janet. She glazed her eyes and ominously intoned, "The Saviour of the Wizarding World got dumped and is overdue for a good shag ... His flying teammates must assist him ... The Chosen One needs to get some, and often ... The future of all humanity depends on it."'
Harry burst into loud hysterics, to his teammates' amusement and mild alarm. Janet had unwittingly done a perfect impression of Professor Trelawney.
'Sorry,' he said after calming down. 'You've touched on a nerve, in a good way,' he explained.
'Well, that's the whole point, innit?' she replied, winking.
Their lunch break was reaching an end, and someone motioned to Candice for the bill. Fortunately Harry always carried Muggle currency, and he made a mental note to get more next time he was at Gringotts.
The group walked back towards the training facility. As Harry listened to their ongoing banter, he noted with amazement how close he already felt to his new teammates. It was very different to his experience in the Auror training programme. He'd got on well with the other participants, but with Ron for company he hadn't really made an effort to get to know them. By contrast, after a single lunch outing with the Cannons he already felt surrounded by mates.
Everyone went to the lockers to fetch their broomsticks and change back into robes, and soon they were all gathered again at the benches. The trainers divided them by position for targeted drills, and Tuttle shouted over to Harry.
'Stay right there, Potter. I'm taking charge of Seeker training today—I want to see what you've got,' she said, before heading over to the supply shed.
While waiting, Harry was joined by a player he hadn't yet met. The wizard, who was somewhat older than Harry, introduced himself.
'I'm Owen Barrowmaker, reserve Seeker. Nice to meet you, Potter.'
'Call me Harry, and nice to meet you too.' Harry felt a little awkward meeting the reserve Seeker, who had presumably been next in line for the job.
Wishing to clear the air, Harry said, 'I apologise if I've taken your spot as starter. All of this came about very quickly.'
Owen waved his hand as if to banish Harry's concerns. 'Don't give it a second thought. I was starter before Spencer, bless him, but I've had trouble with injuries and had to step down. Our Beaters weren't very good at keeping the Bludgers away, I'm afraid.'
Seeing Harry's sudden look of alarm, Owen added, 'No, no ... not to worry. Suresh and Gary are rather more proactive than their predecessors—you're in good hands.'
'That's a relief,' said Harry, not specifying whether he was referring to the improved Beaters or the news that Owen didn't want his job. A bit of both, he supposed.
Tuttle arrived and started setting up the Snitch launcher Lara had deployed the day before. She pulled a large blue crystal out of a pouch and slid it into a receptacle on the Launcher. Harry peered at the crystal and saw that it was covered with runes.
'Potter, I want to test both your flying and your Snitch-spotting ability. The Launcher will deploy dummy Snitches at random locations above the pitch, and it'll be your job to catch them,' said Tuttle. 'Barrowmaker, you can sit this part out.'
Harry nodded, very curious to see how the device worked. At Tuttle's cue, he lifted off and began circling, automatically softening his gaze and opening up his peripheral vision.
After a moment, a dummy Snitch appeared mid-air about twenty yards from Harry. He rushed over and grabbed it, and then let it drop to the ground. About ten seconds later another Snitch appeared, a good deal higher up than the first. Harry zoomed towards it and caught it.
It was maybe thirty seconds before he spotted the next one, but by the time he arrived it had vanished, causing Harry to realise there was a time limit on how long they stayed visible. He kept his eyes peeled for the next Snitch to appear.
This continued for about ten minutes, until Tuttle blew her whistle again. None of the other players reacted, which suggested to Harry that the whistle was charmed so only he could hear it, and he made a mental note to tell Hermione about it.
He flew to where Tuttle was standing, near the Launcher. He saw that there were about a dozen black-coloured dummy Snitches on the ground near her feet—presumably the ones he'd failed to catch.
'That was decent work, Potter,' she said. 'I'll be curious to see whether your percentage improves once you get your eyesight fixed.'
Next she pulled a Snitch from her pocket and shouted towards Owen. 'Enough lying about, Barrowmaker!'
Harry found this a bit unjust, considering she'd told Owen to sit down in the first place, but Owen didn't seem to mind. Apparently that was just Tuttle's style.
She held up the Snitch, which was struggling in her hand. 'I'd like to see you both chase after this one. It's charmed not to vanish nearly as often as a regulation Snitch, so we won't have to wait hours for it to turn up.'
Harry and Owen both took off and started circling, ignoring the other players who were performing their own drills. After a minute, Owen accelerated rapidly towards something he'd seen, and Harry, spying the Snitch, took off in the same direction.
They both had to dodge some of the other players, as the Snitch was fairly low to the ground, so it was a good test of their flying. Owen hesitated at the wrong moment, however, nearly colliding with a pair of Chasers—a mistake that allowed Harry to grab the Snitch.
Tuttle blew her whistle again, and both Owen and Harry flew towards her.
'We'll go a few more rounds, but so far it's as I suspected. Barrowmaker's the better spotter while Potter's the better flyer.' She looked at Owen and added, 'I might have you train him up a bit.'
She released the Snitch again and they repeated the exercise multiple times. In the end, Harry had caught the Snitch more often than Owen had, but he'd only once been first to spot it. Clearly he had a lot to learn from the more experienced player.
Tuttle pulled out her wand and tapped the whistle, and then blew it again. This time the sound was clearly audible to everyone, and all the players gathered near the benches.
'Take a ten-minute break,' she ordered, 'and then come back for a practice match. You can leave your broomstick here,' she added, for Harry's benefit.
Harry and Owen walked towards the building together. 'That was great flying,' said Owen. 'You'll be a real step up from Spencer.'
'Thanks,' replied Harry. 'But you've shown me I could really stand to improve my spotting skills. Could you help me with that?'
'Yes, definitely. I learnt a lot of good tricks from the flying instructor at Blockhurst.'
'That's one of the other schools, right?' said Harry. 'I'm mortified to admit that I only first heard of them today at lunch.'
Owen laughed. 'Hogwarts syndrome strikes again! I've sometimes wondered if the place is warded to make people forget any other schools exist.'
'That wouldn't surprise me in the least,' replied Harry, before heading towards the lockers.
After their break, the group clustered near the benches, and Tuttle said, 'Right then, time for a practice match. We'll play starters against reserves. Starters in orange.'
Two sides formed from the assembled group, and Renée taught Harry how to change the colour on his robes. Apparently the Cannons' uniquely blinding shade of orange required an incantation and special wand movement.
He took out his wand and followed her instructions, successfully turning his robes the desired hue. From the corner of his eye he noticed Janet nudging Darren and gesturing towards Harry's wand.
Janet asked, 'Is that the wand you used? To kill You-Know-Who?'
'No, but I used it once in a duel with him. It sort of backfired, allowing me to escape,' he said, surprised at his own response. He didn't normally encourage this type of conversation.
'Unbelievable,' she murmured as she pulled out her own wand to charm her robes. 'That was the one in the graveyard, right?'
He nodded.
'And you were what, fourteen?'
'Yeah.'
She shook her head and then grabbed her broomstick. 'Have fun up there,' she said. 'And catch the bleeding Snitch, full stop!' she barked, before kicking off the ground and speeding towards the rings.
Harry kicked off as well, and the four balls were released soon after. He'd decided his best chance to win would be to track Owen rather than trying to locate the Snitch himself. He normally scorned that approach, but it was clear that Owen was the better spotter.
'I see what you're doing, Potter,' taunted Owen.
'I'm not proud, you know,' smirked Harry.
'Team player ... excellent. There's hope for you yet, Chosen One.'
Harry laughed, enjoying Owen's irreverence, which reminded him of the Weasley twins. 'I reckon it's the lame leading the blind,' he taunted in return.
They continued exchanging friendly jibes for a while, as the match unfolded below. It was hard to keep track without an announcer, but it appeared the starters had pulled several goals ahead of the reserves.
There was no need to dodge Bludgers, as neither pair of Beaters wanted to aim at their own Seeker. Harry enjoyed how peaceful it was to just fly without having to worry about getting clobbered.
At one point, Owen took off into a sharp dive. Harry reflexively followed him but perceived no Snitch ahead, and so he left off. Owen felt it when Harry turned away, prompting him to give up the feint and rejoin Harry above.
'Nice try, gramps,' said Harry.
'Thought I'd mix things up a bit,' replied Owen.
'Anything to pass the time, I suppose.'
They flew around a while longer before Owen shot sharply towards the left. Harry knew this was the real thing and accelerated after him before spotting the Snitch himself, about twenty yards away.
He'd never beat Owen in a straight run, but luckily for Harry the Snitch changed direction, heading towards a cluster of Chasers. Harry shifted into automatic, trusting the broomstick and his instincts to steer him around the other players.
Owen was less fortunate—he was forced to alter course and give up the chase, allowing Harry to easily capture the Snitch. Without an announcer, most of the other players didn't even notice until Tuttle blew her whistle.
Her voice amplified, she bellowed, 'Potter's caught the Snitch. Starters win, 240-40.'
Harry's teammates flew towards him, cheering and raising their arms in triumph. 'Nice work,' shouted Gary, and the others congratulated him as well, including some of the reserves, which heartened Harry. Owen gave him a thumbs up.
They all flew down to the benches, energy still high from the match. The players sat down together for the first time all day—Harry supposed this was the time for post-game notes.
'Well done, Potter,' shouted Tuttle. 'I was glad to see you didn't attempt to find the Snitch yourself—I'd have wanted you off the team if you'd tried that.'
She continued for a while, critiquing the different players. She seemed pleased overall with the starting Chasers but admonished them for not varying their manoeuvres enough. 'That's a perfect recipe for losing the Quaffle,' she scolded.
After Tuttle's lecture, one of the trainers led the players through a series of post-game stretches, which Harry appreciated after the long day of physical activity. He was fatigued, in spite of his Auror training, and in retrospect he realised that his old job had involved a lot of sedentary classroom time as well.
They were dismissed and everyone returned to the building, but Darius intercepted Harry before he could head towards the lockers.
'Terrific flying out there today,' he exclaimed happily. 'Just what I was hoping to see from you.'
'Thanks,' replied Harry, who appreciated the praise but was also ready for a shower.
'Anyway,' continued Darius, 'I've some good news—you're cleared for the vision ritual tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. It appears your name opens a lot of doors,' he added with a laugh.
Ignoring Darius's last comment, Harry asked, 'How long will it take? Will I make it to practice on time?'
'Not a chance. They'll want you to take it easy all day and then have a good night's sleep.' At Harry's obvious disappointment he added, 'But I commend your enthusiasm. Can't get enough of that Silver Arrow, eh?'
'And the other players,' replied Harry sincerely. 'Everyone I've met has been great so far.'
'Excellent. It's a good group we've got together. Now there's one more thing, Harry,' he said. 'With your leave, I'd like to invite some reporters on Friday just before lunch. We'll break early, which will give you time to answer questions while they take photographs. Are you all right with that?'
'Yes, go ahead,' he said, sounding more positive than he felt.
'Splendid, I'll set that right up. Anyway, off with you—I'm sure you're ready to call it a day.'
Harry took his leave and headed for the showers, which were nearly all engaged. He found an empty one, suspecting the room was charmed to provide new stalls as needed, and was soon rewarded with a welcome cascade of hot water.
Exhausted, he lost track of time in the shower, and when he emerged wearing a towel, only a few of his teammates still remained.
'There you are,' said Ryan. 'I'm glad I caught you.'
'Oh?' said Harry, as he walked over to his locker to get into some clean clothes.
'Yes, I just wanted to tell you how glad I am you're on the team. You've never flown with us before today, so you wouldn't have noticed it, but there was some real alchemy up there that we've not experienced before. I can't help feeling hopeful that things are finally going to change for the Cannons.'
Harry wasn't entirely sure how to respond. He appreciated the kind words but also felt a familiar—and unpleasant—sense of responsibility.
'That's kind of you to say, Ryan,' he started. 'But you're all terrific flyers, every one of you.'
Ryan interrupted before Harry could continue. 'I don't think you're catching my point. I know we fly well—that's why we're on the team. But there's more to a team than flying ability, and I think that's what the Cannons have been lacking.
'Today we had more ... unity of purpose, for want of a better description. During those drills in particular, it felt like more than just individual players up there. It felt like something bigger. And you weren't able to watch the rest of us during the match, but Darren and Renée and I were on a whole new level. Even Tuttle acknowledged it—she just threw in that dig about our manoeuvres for appearances' sake.
'That's all I wanted to say, really. It's just good to have you with us, and I know we'll have a lot of fun up there. And please, don't feel any more pressure than the usual outsized Seeker burden,' he added, smiling.
Janet walked in. 'Did someone say, "Outsized Seeker burden?"' she asked. 'That should definitely help with the project we were discussing earlier.'
Harry laughed, grateful for her interruption. 'Don't let Tuttle hear you, or she'll lock me in a monastery.'
'I'm sure you could have fun in a monastery if you try hard enough. Just requires a bit more ingenuity,' she replied.
Ryan chimed in. 'Janet, he attended a boarding school. I'm sure he learnt plenty about male ingenuity.'
'Excuse me, I was busy fighting a war!' protested Harry, who was having trouble believing he'd only met these people a few hours prior.
They were all laughing by then, and Harry began walking out of the locker room.
'Excellent,' said Janet, following him. 'Now I can tick 'Making homoerotic insinuations about the Boy Who Lived' off my to-do list for the day. See you tomorrow then?'
'No, I'm scheduled to have Dark rituals performed on my eyeballs. I expect they'll be red like Voldemort's by the time you see me again on Thursday.'
'Sounds good—I hear he was an excellent flyer.'
Harry laughed again and Disapparated, holding a strong intention to land on his favourite sofa at Grimmauld Place and stay there. Merlin, what a day!