I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter franchise
The day after the tryouts, Harry awoke from just five hours of sleep, finding himself extremely grateful that such a short amount of rest was all he really needed now. Harry stayed up until well after midnight the night before, trading letters back and forth with Fleur, and it had been a fantastic time (Gods Harry loved that woman).
With a residual surge of positivity galvanizing his movements, he bounced happily out of bed, moved quickly into the bathroom, and then checked himself out for any remaining injury. He did feel just a tad bit sore in a couple different places, but as it turns out, there were no visible wounds remaining anywhere on his body.
As he walked down the various lawns towards the lake for his morning run, Harry noticed that the number of girls hanging around in the trees had actually grown by a significant margin. To be honest, he'd kind of been hoping that everyone would just assume he was far too injured to run today, but apparently all of these girls had far more faith in his toughness than he'd anticipated.
As Harry started stretching, he found himself relieved that no one was approaching him today. He wasn't chatty by nature, especially in the morning, so answering fifty questions with varying levels of honesty didn't sound appealing at the moment (or ever).
For the lion's share of the next hour, Harry threw everything that he could physically throw at his running route, while keeping Aethir's involvement to below twenty-five percent. He wanted to move fast today, but he had no interest in looking superhuman, so this was the best that he could do. He still finished the obstacle course in a completely astounding time, before sprinting up towards the castle at an even faster pace. Lately girls had been trying to follow him in the direction of the Room of Requirements, which of course Harry simply couldn't allow to happen... He simply refused to lose his last, best hiding spot from the persistent women following his every move…
When Harry met Neville in the RoR, the boy was already lifting weights, as had become the new norm. While Neville had tried the running, it ended up being far too early for him to pull off on a regular basis, so Harry had suggested the boy join in on the lifting he did afterwards instead. Neville had found the extra hour's sleep was all he really needed, and he quite liked lifting weights. As a result of this, the boy was already losing some of his baby fat as his stocky frame converted it all to muscle. He was never going to be lean like Harry however, because he was packing on muscle waaay too fast for that to be a possibility.
As Harry walked into the gym equipment filled room, Neville grinned in his direction and arched an eyebrow. "How many this morning?"
"Over twenty-five," Harry slowly replied with a sheepish expression on his face.
"Even today? Gods… If I didn't sleep in your dormitory even I wouldn't believe that you're up and moving today." Neville shook his head in disbelief, despite the fact he wasn't really surprised by any of it…
"There were more girls down there today than yesterday, truth be told," Harry admitted, after completing a set of bench presses and then collapsing back onto the bench with his arms hanging limply at his sides. "I suppose you already know that I have my eyes set on someone a little more... exotic."
"Yes Harry, it's not hard to imagine that you like the French girl. You only sent her like a thousand letters last night alone." Neville had approached Harry the night before, informing him that although he wasn't completely fluent, he could speak French and was looking forward to meeting his amour.
Harry knew that Neville wasn't taking the mickey out of him, but he almost blushed anyway at how completely transparent he was being. He finally turned to Neville, shrugged in defeat and admitted How he felt. "I am… in fact… deeply in love with her." Then Harry blanched at the import of his own words and began to look like he might have a panic attack. "Gods…"
"What's wrong Harry?" Neville never saw Harry with this much anxiety anymore and it was a little bit frightening when paired up with his new image.
Taking a deep breath, Harry stared up at the vaulted ceiling of the RoR and composed an answer to Neville's question. With Neville, prevarications and lies get you nowhere. Neville's a sensitive soul and he wants to help, but he can't do so if he doesn't know the absolute truth. With that in mind, Harry mustered up his will and just lay it all out there. "Fleur… the French woman... is almost eighteen and is… complicated in the extreme. I think I could confidently approach almost any girl in Hogwarts with romantic intentions, as long as she isn't a Slytherin or already romantically involved with someone. Hermione would be impossible too... She's awesome but... well you get it. The same thing can not be said in regards to Fleur Delacour. Having only lately realized how deeply I have fallen for her, I'm beginning to suffer an intense amount of anxiety."
"That tough huh? Harry… You're a decent bloke right?" Neville was giving Harry a very pointed look.
"Uhh sure..."
"Smart?"
"I am now with Occlumency and stuff..."
"Tall, Handsome?"
"Oh come onnnn Neville..."
"Answer the questions," Neville demanded seriously.
"Yes, yes, Neville, I am tall now, and I've been told that I'm handsome."
Neville's stare had never wavered the entire time he questioned Harry. "Do you by any chance have so much magic at your disposal, it breaks the world and all common sense?"
Harry didn't bother answering this question at all. Instead he just waved his hands in the air in defeat. "I get it Neville. I do get it, but you haven't met this woman. She knows that I have many redeemable qualities but there's this one big problem."
Neville preemptively sat down because Harry didn't do small in absolutely anything. If Harry Potter was saying a problem was big then the world might just be ending. "Okay Harry, now I'm curious. What's this big problem?"
Harry collapsed back against his workout bench and looked at the ceiling again. "Fleur Delacour is one of the two women that were teaching me how to tame my out of control magic this summer…"
"Oookay I... Oh!… Ohhhhhh… Veela Harry? Really?!" Neville was torn between laughing and double face palming in frustration. Harry Potter just cannot do normal. He would of course have to fall in love with a bonafide French Veela. "Am I safe in assuming that you're resistant to her allure then?"
Harry nodded immediately. "Yes, yes I am. I am in fact extremely resistant to her allure, but ironically that resistance is the big problem. I am perhaps the only man in all of Europe strong enough against her allure that we are very close friends. I am the very first boy to EVER hug her just because she needs a hug and for no other reason. So far she loves me for that more than anything. I want to take the time for her to want more from me in a natural progression. I don't want to spring romantic ideas on her when she relies on me for simple normalcy."
It couldn't be helped, so Neville didn't even try. He beamed a wide, approving and yet amused smile at his friend. While Harry was clearly in quite the difficult situation, it was also kind of cute. It also sounded like his friend needed some advice, so Neville waited for Harry's attention to return to him. "That's a very romantic story, Harry. Unfortunately it also sounds like it could end up being extremely painful for you. I seriously suggest that you don't torture yourself like that. Just let the girl know how you feel. I'm not saying one hundred roses, I'm saying tell her you care about her in a simple manner that she can handle. For Gods' sakes don't play the games that the other boys will try to coerce you into. Jealousy plays and the like are meant for poorly written books, not real life. If I'm picking up what I think I am from this Fleur woman, then she's proud. She'll never break down and jump you just because you have some random girl on your arm."
After nodding his understanding, Harry smiled gratefully at his friend. "I've had similar thoughts but I was in the middle of making the situation much, much more complicated than it really is. I'm glad I have someone to talk to about this stuff. Thanks Neville…"
Neville gave a very polished courtly bow before turning back to the weight rack.
An hour later, Harry and Neville drank one of Dobby's incredible smoothies and made their way down to the Great Hall.
As they walked through the Entry Hall on the way to the Great Hall, there was a massive gathering of students milling about and talking loudly over each other. Harry and Neville walked up behind the mass of people with the intention of investigating all of the commotion. Of course they both suspected what they'd find, but they couldn't be sure until they moved closer. Thankfully, after he was noticed, Harry didn't find it hard to advance forward. The students who saw him seemed to melt to the side when he approached. Then, Harry was standing in front of the reason for everyone's excitement, and he felt goosebumps growing along his arms in his anticipation. The final roster for the Hogwarts quidditch Team was posted on the notice board, and it had the following names on it:
Hogwarts quidditch Team Final Roster
Keeper: Roger Davies
Alternate Keeper: Herbert Fleet
Chaser: Katie Bell
Chaser: Angelina Johnson. (C)
Chaser: Alicia Spinnet
Alternate Chaser: Su Li
Beater: Fred Weasley
Beater: George Weasley
Alternate Beater: Anthony Rickett
Seeker: Harry Potter. (A)
Alternate Seeker: Cedric Diggory
The (C) symbolizes Team Captain and the (A) Assistant Captain
If your name is on this sheet please meet Madam Hooch at the quidditch fields Saturday September 29th for orientation and training schedule.
"That's right Harrykins," Gred yelled, from behind Him.
"It's a Gryffindor led team," Forge Added, loudly.
Angelina Johnson approached next, bouncing right through the press of bodies in her excitement. "We've got this Harry."
Both Katie and Alicia were walking up behind Angelina, with big fat smiles on their faces.
Harry couldn't even believe it. While he was of the opinion that they were the clear best that the school had to offer, he still hadn't pictured Hooch allowing a single house like Gryffindor to take over the majority of the school team. Harry still wasn't a huge fan of Hooch, but he was gratified that the tryouts ended up being as impartial as they were intended to be. "Captain my captain," Harry said while saluting Angelina.
Angeline swatted Harry lightly on the shoulder before declaring "fine then, my first order... Let's go eat!"
When the six Gryffindor quidditch players entered the Great Hall, they were chattering away with barely contained, manic energy. They sat together in a large group, with Harry collecting Hermione and Neville on his right side.
All of the sudden, a scornful voice called out from down the table. "How could they make you the Assistant Captain? You physically took out over half of your competition, like a complete lunatic!"
Harry, Gred, Forge, Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Neville and even Hermione, looked over at Ron with overt animosity on their faces.
"If Harry were any position other than Seeker he would be team Captain," announced Angelina with extreme certainty in her voice. "Seekers are almost never in leadership roles because they aren't as involved in team plays. Harry's the heart of the team and that's why he's our Assistant!"
"Yeah," Gred seconded, loudly. "Just having Harry in the air means that literally anything is possible!"
While everyone else was defending Harry as Assistant Captain, Forge was giving his brother a very serious and intimidating look. It was quite obvious to everyone that he was losing his cool with his youngest brother. Then, very suddenly, he snapped and yelled down the table for the entire Great Hall to hear. "Harry's also the man who saved your sister's life AGAIN yesterday, you muppet! This goes way beyond simple jealousy! What the hell is wrong with you Ron?!"
As everyone in the Great Hall turned to look at him, Ron turned a bright red, scowled angrily at his brother, stood up and marched out of the Great Hall.
Hermione sighed as she watched the sulky redhead storm out of the room. "Was he always like this or is it getting worse?"
While Gred and Forge nodded in perfect sync, it was Gred who ended up speaking for the both of them. "To be honest, we've never been impressed with Ron's loyalty."
"Or lack thereof," Forge added, with perfect timing.
"We noticed it especially this summer when Harry couldn't come to the Burrow," Gred continued. "Ron seemed to take it personally and was bad mouthing Harry by the end of the first day."
Harry just shook his head as he doled himself out some of Dobby's healthier food options. "Well beginning today, I'm going to be training like a lunatic for the quidditch team, during most evenings. I'm going to be far too busy to play endless games of chess…"
Everyone laughed but Harry could tell it was mostly for his benefit…
Gabrielle was startled by a POP, as she slogged through the endless amounts of boring homework that her mother had assigned. Dobby was suddenly standing just a few meters away from her with a box of chocolates and two odd vials in hand.
Dobby smiled at the girl as he completed a very smooth courtly bow. "Your sister has tasked me with delivering a few things to your household, young Lady. First, I believe Fleur wanted you to have these chocolates."
Squealing in joy, Gabrielle jumped to her feet, scooping Dobby into a tight hug in her enthusiasm (choking the life out of him in the process). "Oh thank you, thank you Dobby. These are my favorites! What are in the vials though?" Gabby had the cutest, confused expression on her face.
"These are some memories that your sister has decided your parents should see," Dobby began...
"Oh really?" Appoline was walking into the room and at Dobby's words she looked extremely curious. "Fleur's not in the habit of doing that… Do you know what the memories contain?"
Dobby looked at his feet briefly before looking up into Appoline's eyes. "My master had quite a busy day yesterday, with the Hogwarts quidditch team tryouts. It was too long a story to write it all down in a letter, so he decided to send Fleur these memories instead. Once Fleur watched them, she decided to forward them along, so that you may also understand her frustration with him."
Appoline didn't know what to say about what she'd heard so far, but she hurried to gather both her husband and the Pensieve.
Adrien and Appoline finally sat down in the living room, where they added the memories to the Delacour Pensieve.
Looking over at his wife, Adrien's face split into a wry grin. "At least two."
"Two what?" Appoline's head was canted to the side in her confusion.
Adrien continued to grin at his wife as he gestured down at the Pensieve. "Harry did at least two impossible things in these memories, I'd wager."
Appoline laughed and smiled adoringly at her husband. "These things come in threes dear, so I'll up your wager."
They entered the memory and were in there for a very long time.
Finally Adrien and Appoline exited the Pensieve and collapsed back onto the couch.
"That boy..." Appoline gasped for breath, slouching into the couch in a boneless heap. "I
"He is a maelstrom... He's a force of nature," Adrien responded, while looking at the ceiling. "We've seen it at least twice now, not including this (he gestured at the Pensieve). He reacts so fast and he does impossible things."
"He obviously doesn't lack for enemies at that school of his either. Look how determined those bullies were to keep him small." Appoline wiped some sweat from her brow. "'Arry needs allies, Adrien. He is rash and perhaps even a bit unhinged, but 'Arry Potter is good. We need to keep him close, Adrien. He is special…"
Adrien nodded and held his wife's hand. I know that we're Harry's friends, but if we push too hard to be involved I fear we'll look like we just want to ingratiate ourselves to him. I fear he'll think he's being manipulated again because he's so damn powerful. The question we need to ask ourselves is... What do we have to offer that boy that makes us any better than Dumbledore? Dumbledore keeps Harry ignorant and unsupported, while erecting a facade of paternal affection. We must be different."
While biting her lip, Appoline gave her husband a sidelong look. "'Arry's magic knows better than that, Adrien. He'll not be manipulated anymore because his instincts are far, far too sharp for that. Even if that weren't true however… There is something we have that he needs above all else. You don't see it because you fear it but... 'Arry's almost certainly in love with our eldest daughter..."
During the next few moments, Adrien's mouth bobbed open and closed several times, as he took his wife's words like a thunderbolt. Yes. He was surprised. He was really, really surprised. One of the things about Harry that had always impressed Adrien was his extreme resistance towards the compulsions of Veela allure. For the first time since before Fleur was Gabby's age, Adrien had enjoyed some peace of mind while having a boy around. It was a situation that only improved for Adrien when, like a miracle, Harry and Fleur had become very close friends, a commodity his daughter had precious few of. Now he was being informed that the boy had been making moves on his baby all this time in secret...
When Adrien turned back towards Appoline, his face looked deadly serious all of the sudden. "Are you sure?"
"'Arry is in control of both his body and his mind like no one I have ever seen, so no... I am not a hundred percent certain, because I have no concrete proof…" At this point, Appoline was trying to dial back the intensity of the conversation and save 'Arry's life. She was also trying to lay out a foundation for the boy, and as she'd expected, it was a tightrope walk. Before she continued, Appoline leaned her body against her husband and hugged his waist affectionately. "Adrien… My instincts tell me that 'Arry loves our daughter very, very much and for all of the right reasons. He is not merely lusting over your daughter. He cherishes her… You may not trust 'Arry's motives because he's a boy, but you'll just have to trust me in this."
"But you never saw anything to base your suspicions on?" Adrien was desperately trying to convince himself that his wife was wrong.
Originally Appoline had intended to omit this next part from her explanation, because it was in dangerous territory. Now she didn't think she had a choice in the matter. "Well… I did find 'Arry and Fleur napping together on a couch one time, near the end of the summer. It was innocent enough. Fleur had just slumped onto him in a doze while they were sitting around talking, and he'd followed suit when he became a captive under her body. However… 'Arry was smiling even in his sleep like I've never seen from him at any other time. He was sound asleep at the time and yet the way he was cradling Fleur in his arms… Adrien... 'Arry cares about both of our daughters, but he's deeply in love with Fleur. She has no idea of course. She's a teenager as well as a Veela, thus she is a special brand of dense rarely ever seen in this world…"
At the mere mention of sleeping together, even in a platonic fashion, Adrien looked like he was barely holding it together. He was taking deep breaths as he visibly worked at maintaining his cool. Finally, it appeared he won a mental victory of some kind, as he was suddenly capable of speech again. "I will admit that I feel extremely conflicted at the moment," he admitted slowly and carefully. "A large part of me desires that Harry die in a convenient accident now. I can also clearly see that no one else would be better suited for my daughter. Before our bonding, I was nowhere near as capable of functioning around you as he is with Fleur. Harry has many strengths and an excellent character... I can only promise I will think upon it."
Appoline could only nod at that because Adrien's reaction was exactly as she'd suspected it'd be. Appoline knew just how protective Adrien was of his daughters, and she also knew why. Her husband had suffered some close calls in his time, regarding enthralled men approaching his daughters, and he'd become hyper vigilant as a result. Leaning close, Appoline placed a hand on her husband's chest, with a serious look upon her face. "'Arry would quite literally take on a killing curse for either one of our daughters and we both know it, my husband. Keep that in mind as you let these ideas settle."
Dear Fleur
I am writing this at lunch time so it might not be a long letter.
I'm a new member of the Hogwarts quidditch team, along with every other current Gryffindor starter. We completely took over the school team and Hogwarts is almost entirely represented by us. The only exception is the keeper who is a boy named Roger Davies, a Ravenclaw and quite good. The school has reacted to the news in several different ways. Most are resigned to our placement because the test results during the tryouts were very telling. My friends were by far the most talented players present. There are a few (the Slytherins, the haters and the GIT) who believe we have been shown favoritism, and I am a dangerous lunatic on the pitch. These people are quick to point out that there are still four people in the Hospital Wing because of me. The rest of the students are either happy or resentful for their own reasons and I shall not worry about it.
Ginny Weasley is the name of the injured redhead girl in the memory and she was released from the Hospital wing earlier this morning. She has always had a love affair in her head with the infamous Boy-Who-Lived (whoever that is). As if her crush wasn't strong enough before, now the mere sight of me knocks her unconscious. From what I've been told, I gather she's the creator and organizer of the newly formed 'Harry Potter fan club.' I'm not telling you this to brag, but rather I'm forewarning you and taking the opportunity to explain that I am in no way shape or form affiliated with this club. If anything, I find it a nuisance, because of my friends' over the top reactions. The twins especially have been having a great time laughing at me for all of the lightning bolts we've begun seeing embroidered on girls' clothing.
I was made the Assistant Captain of the quidditch team under team Captain Angelina Johnson. She's an excellent choice for Captain, because she's the driving force of the chasers and designs all of their plays. I was a more controversial choice. Seekers normally have no business in positions of leadership. They play a very different game than the rest of the team and for the most part are uninvolved in the plays taking place. Several different people have explained to me that I only have the position because Madam Hooch is frightened of me, and although they laugh, I can tell that they're all at least partially serious.
Our team is to meet in a few days to be given our uniforms/protective gear and to be introduced to our new coach. I will be sending you my extra jersey soon. I asked to be number 07. My new Arithmancy knowledge tells me that it's a magically significant number.
If you were a Hogwarts student what house do you think you would be? Gryffindor (brave), Hufflepuff (loyal/hard working), Ravenclaw (intelligent), or Slytherin (cunning)
So much for the short letter huh?
I am becoming extremely impatient to see you.
Yours Truly
Harry Potter
While sitting quietly in Transfiguration, Harry daydreamed about random nonsense, because at this point he was very far ahead in the material. Transfiguration is all intent and focus plus power. Harry could Transfigure the entire school into a pillow at this point if he really desired to (huge exaggeration obviously). About a week and a half ago he'd been approached by Mrs McGonagall and they'd discussed his excellent grades and lack of attentiveness in class. She'd proposed some extracurricular work, so now he was working on material several grades higher and with a major focus on Conjuration.
Conjuration is quite a bit more tiring magically than Transfiguration, because you're creating something from nothing using magical power as the base material. Harry had found it quite difficult at first, but he was now completing very advanced work because of all his surplus magical power. Conjuration is hard because you must be able to picture every conceivable aspect of the item you desire. Even a block of wood has hundreds of different characteristics that comprise it such as type of wood, age, density, grain, color, texture, smell, bark thickness, cell composition, atomic weight, etc. If you don't think of the little things the picture of the item as a whole is less developed and more magic is needed to compensate. The better you get the less magic you need to use and the longer the Conjuration will last.
At first, Harry hadn't been all that worried about magical exhaustion, so he hadn't paid much heed to his mental imagery during Conjuration. That is, until McGonagall decided to strap him to a magic meter to gauge how much power he was using for every conjuration. Long story short, Harry had been using magic of several magnitudes higher than normal during every conjure. Harry's Conjuration skills had in fact been extremely poor, he just happened to have massive stores of magic.
Since that day, Harry had slowly but surely decreased his magic expenditure while conjuring items over time and was now only using three times more than was normally needed. Harry's class was currently trying to do a normal transfiguration teapot to turtle and Harry wasn't the least bit interested in doing something so simple. He was actually in danger of nodding off, when with a small, almost inaudible POP, a letter was sitting in front of him. Harry smiled a wide and happy smile as he pulled open the letter. He smoothed it out on the desk inside of his text book and was miles away just a few moments later.
.
Dear 'Arry
I was slogging through some rather tedious History of Magic homework with Selene, when your letter arrived. Now I find myself with a very suspicious friend, who firmly believes that I have a foreign lover. It only became worse when I finally caved and told her exactly who you are.
Selene is a subscriber to a French newspaper that I do not read. She informed me this morning that you featured in their articles not just once, but twice. The first time was after the Quidditch Cup. Apparently some enterprising amateur photographer managed to get your picture after he overheard who you were. The photo is of you handing over two bound men to Aurors and you apparently look quite dashing. The paper describes you as a humble hero, who disappears back into the crowd, as soon as the damsel was saved.
The second article was in regards to the trial of the Black Band. The paper discussed the trial of the group and their accounts of what happened. The interviewer was quick to point out the discrepancies between your oversimplified testimony and the truth potioned mercenaries' version of the same events. The newspaper claims that you massively underplayed your role, as well as the difficulty level that you faced in subduing the Black Band. You ended up looking very humble, discrete and mysterious which of course is a flattering image and has caught the attentions of the female French population.
Long story short the French are currently building up your name almost as much as it is in England. You somehow achieved the complete opposite of what you intended.
Selene was very surprised to find out that you summered with us. She was even further surprised that both of those events happened while you were saving us from danger. I have tried in vain to describe you as a person who exists on earth, rather than some mythical hero, but I can clearly see that it hasn't worked. She thinks of course that I am madly in love with you and has already promised not to hit on you. I think she might be teasing me, 'Arry, but this friendship thing is new to me...
I am very happy if not surprised to hear you made the team. It is a good time to be a Gryffindor, no? I am also gratified to hear this Madam Hooch gave you a position of authority, as she sure as Hell made you earn it. What other people think on the matter is of little importance. Your team loves you and that is all that matters.
So we actually have confirmation now. You are a male Veela so powerful you can render girls unconscious with your allure alone! I shall approach the French papers and alert the world! Okay maybe I won't do that, but I might begin wearing a lightning bolt on my sleeve instead. Best to join in this fan club now, rather than have to ask for membership later. Both Selene and I will do it and then laugh when we arrive in England and the other Beauxbatton girls finally catch on... Okay, all joking aside, I understand your point and I will try not to give you a hard time about the fan club. No promises of course, but I will try. Sorry... This might be a little difficult. It sounds amusing…
If I were a Hogwarts student I would be on loan on a time share basis between all four different houses, for I am all of those character attributes and the hat wouldn't DARE typecast me to just one. I dislike the very idea of a school polarized to such an extreme. It seems like the school is trying to put their students on watch lists. Slytherins being the people most likely to commit crimes being a good example.
I smiled happily for perhaps the first time ever in History of Magic today because of your letter. If you keep this up, I may even forgive you by the time I arrive at Hogwarts... maybe.
Sincerely Yours
Fleur Delacour
.
As he pulled away from the letter, Harry was poked from the side by Hermione, who started making kissy faces at him relentlessly. Neville was also smiling knowingly from his spot on her other shoulder. Even as he nodded happily, Harry slammed on his Occlumency controls to stave off a blush.
Harry, Gred, Forge, Angelina, Katie and Alicia walked into the quidditch pitch the next Saturday morning, in order to meet their new coach. They were all bouncing around in their excitement and finding it hard to be mature. Cedric, Su Li and the rest of the team were already standing around and waiting when they arrived.
Gred ran over to a long, jagged, furrow, in the sand of the field and gestured at it excitedly. "Hey everyone, look! It's the Harry Potter crash landing crater!"
While everyone else laughed, Forge began shaking his head instead. "That can't be the one silly! It has no scorch marks or blood in it."
Roger Davies approached while the twins were bantering, looking like he was enjoying it immensely.
"That's because of his fan club, or the lightning Bolts as I have dubbed them. They must have come in later to collect any physical evidence! I imagine all of the burned rocks and blood are in their shrines," Gred called out, with his very own brand of mad enthusiasm.
Harry and the girls present all shivered together with perfect timing. They were all creeped out by just the thought of a Harry Potter shrine in some Hufflepuff female dorm closet. Hair, blood, nails and skin can in fact be used in very real magic tied to their owner after all. It was a sobering thought and it left Harry determined to do a better job of cleaning up after himself in the future. Despite his real concerns, Harry laughed casually and then attempted to change the subject. "Does anyone have any clue as to who will be the coach?"
"I can answer that question," announced a very guarded looking Madam Hooch, as she walked up towards their group. "This morning I have the great pleasure of introducing your coach for this tournament. Your coach will be none other than the Team Captain of the Holyhead Harpies herself, Miss Gwenog Jones!" Now that her primary responsibility for this afternoon was accomplished, Madam Hooch had no desire to be present in the boy's line of sight anymore. She took just one more quick look in Harry's direction and then walked/jogged out of the pitch with as much dignity as possible.
The world famous quidditch player Gwenog Jones marched out of the entrance to the stands, with a large and friendly smile upon her face. The Holyhead Harpies Captain scanned the Hogwarts team as she approached, which caused everyone in the group to straighten as if they were at parade rest.
Harry scanned the team and grinned when he saw that everyone was very visibly trying not to gawk at their new coach.
"Hello everybody," Gwenog called out cheerfully. "I have been contracted by the British Ministry of Magic, to help the United Kingdom's representative school show its superiority to the rest of the world on the pitch. I will be getting to know you all as the day goes by, but first I'll begin by describing the truly horrendous things that I'm going to do to you all in training."
Gwenog continued by describing a very strenuous physical training regimen both on and off their brooms. Harry was unconcerned. It didn't sound all that hard considering his own routine.
"I've already been informed that one among us has been diligently taking part in a physical conditioning routine every morning." All of the sudden, Gwenog turned to and was smiling at Harry (he was forced to Occlude an immediate bashful reaction). "I imagine the workouts were supposed to be discrete since they happen at five-thirty in the morning, but several young ladies have claimed that you're very fit Harry."
Harry slowly nodded and then shrugged. "I had a rather dramatic growth spurt this summer and started running an obstacle course to keep my balance intact."
Gwenog smiled eagerly and looked thrilled. "Very good! I assume you stretch and lift weights as well?"
Harry just nodded.
At this point everyone looked at Harry in surprise, because they hadn't heard about any weight lifting until just now.
When Gwenog looked between Angelina and Harry, she was visibly brimming over with enthusiasm. "Okay then Harry. I will have you, in your role as the Assistant Captain, leading the physical conditioning portion of practices, while I organize the plays with our Captain. This will optimize our time so that we can achieve the most."
Harry smiled and nodded at Angelina who beamed a smile in return.
Gwenog appeared to be enjoying herself as she took in the team and their excitement. "There will be several renovations to the pitch this year, including a Hogwarts team dressing room that will be separate from the other two available. It will have some very special facilities and a weight room that Harry will show you how to use. In the meantime, can anyone conjure heavy items?"
Unthinkingly, Harry immediately lifted his hand, but then, when he looked around, he saw that he was alone in this regard. Well… shucks...
"That's perfect," Gwenog exclaimed, while looking increasingly pleased with Harry. "This way you won't have to explain to the conjurer what we need! If you please, I'd like you to conjure a rudimentary weight set, as complete as possible for all of the major muscle groups. Just put them down on the far right side of the pitch near the pitch's entry gate, so that they're not a hazard."
Nodding his understanding, Harry loped off to the farthest area of the pitch, and then focused all of his attention on the equipment that they'd need. Over the next two or three minutes, he created three reclinable bench press benches, three straight backed curling chairs and three pull up and squat towers.
Once that was done, Harry walked back to the benches, where he created the heavy bars. Belatedly, Harry created a weight rack to hold the different weights, and then sat down, as one by one, he created a wide variety of weighted plates from ten pounds to over a dozen forty-five pound plates. Rising to his feet, Harry recreated this effort with another rack, but this time he conjured sets of curling weights from ten to fifty pounds. If anyone needed heavier than that, they'd need to tell him.
As Harry turned and started walking back towards his team, what he saw almost had him rubbing his neck in chagrin. The entire team, as well as Gwenog, had begun to stare at him as if he was a zoo animal again.
"Harry..." Gwenog shook her head, even as she quietly laughed. "I didn't expect professional quality cast iron weights, stainless steel bars, adjustable equipment or anywhere near that much variety from you just now. I only expected a few of the right approximate weights and shapes. How long will all of those extremely complicated Conjurations last?"
Harry hadn't even thought about it because it hadn't seemed important at the time. Now he was forced to adopt a thinker's pose as he thought up a quick response. "Ummm. Well... Since I'm very familiar with what makes up a weight set, it wasn't all that hard to picture what we needed. I applied enough magic for them to last a week or until we have the necessary equipment delivered. I thought it was better to do the Conjuration once, rather than once a day."
Shaking her head again, Gwenog stared at Harry for several more moments. "The most mysterious and enigmatic Harry Potter huh? You know… I have a younger sister who goes to this school, and she tells me the wildest stories about you..."
Everyone in the pitch just nodded at Gwenog, in a moment of eerie unison.
"This is fantastic though," Gwenog exclaimed, rallying her mental faculties. "We can get started using equipment of professional quality and the wonderkid over there can show you how to use it all... but first, stretching. Harry, can you get everyone sorted out? I have some people to talk to and then introduce."
Over the next five to ten minutes, Harry gathered everyone into a circle, where he began a full stretching routine. There were a few people who didn't seem to understand what they were doing or why they were doing it. While they moved, Harry explained how necessary stretching is, and how as he grew this past summer he'd been extremely worried about losing flexibility. By the end of the stretching, everyone was sorted out and seemed to understand the import of what they'd just done.
Once they were done, Gwenog gestured that she was still busy with the people she was talking to and for Harry to continue with the weights.
Harry took everyone through a simple weight lifting routine while explaining the pitfalls of using weights for the very first time. "Listen everyone… If you use too much weight today, you won't even know you've done so." Harry picked up a curling weight and held it in front of him. "Lifting weights is inherently uncomfortable, so at first it's hard to tell if you're pushing too hard and hurting yourself. You won't even know that you've strained yourself when you finish the workout, because by then it'll feel natural that your muscles are sore. It's tomorrow that you'll find out for sure that you've done yourself real damage, when you wake up and are incapable of moving without debilitating pain. I'd suggest you all aim for moderate difficulty for today, while focusing on using perfect form. I really do want you all to focus on controlling your enthusiasm today. You're all the best that we have, so losing any of you for even a day to a strained or torn muscle would be a disaster."
Over the next hour, Harry mostly watched as the team went through their workouts. He was quick to adjust equipment, weights and posture so that no one would hurt themselves in avoidable ways.
When the workouts were wrapping up, Harry looked over at Gwenog. The woman looked frustrated that she wasn't able to be involved, but she gestured for him to complete a running circuit around the pitch.
Harry gestured how many laps?
Gwenog held up ten fingers then another five.
"Okay... If you caught that little bit of nonverbal communication, then you may already know that we're going for a run." Harry clapped his hands together cheerfully. "Fifteen laps around the pitch is a good level of difficulty to start with, but I hope to improve all of your stamina over time."
Everyone looked just a little bit intimidated at the prospect of taking part in a Harry Potter style training regimen, but they were all extremely dedicated, so they didn't complain.
Harry started them out at a moderate pace and then jogged to the side, critiquing form and making suggestions. Many of the players were very fit and weren't having any trouble. Roger Davies was in last as he had a particularly bad running form. He actually appeared as if he was trying to sprint in slow motion when Harry first took a look at him. Once Harry lengthened the boy's stride and had him meet the ground with his heels instead of his toes he quickly improved.
When they were finished Gwenog was finally free of her business associates and waiting for them. "Okay team," she began excitedly. "It's time for you to meet the sponsor for the quidditch Tournament, Mr. Augustine from Nimbus Broom Company. He will be donating all of the brooms used by all the teams during the tournament."
Mr. Augustine moved forward and gave them all a jaunty wave. "Hello there! I am excited to introduce to you today Nimbus's newest most top of the line broom, the revolutionary Nimbus Alpha. It's the first in our letter series of brooms and our very best yet. It has the best turning available to date from any broom, and a top speed rivaling that of the vaunted Firebolt. It's a versatile broom used for many different positions and I'm sure you'll all love it. From today onwards these brooms are yours to keep!"
As Mr. Augustine spoke, the man's assistant started handing out the new, sleek looking brooms and many people on the team were over the moon with excitement. Harry loved his Firebolt, but he did have to admit that he loved trying out new brooms, so he was pretty jazzed about it as well.
"Next up is your jerseys and equipment," Gwenog explained, happily. "You shall all be wearing exercise equipment and jerseys from Wilke's perfect protection. They haven't failed to notice the growing sophistication of sportswear in the muggle world, so it'll all look quite a bit like Under Armour or Nike." When Gwenog waved her wand, three large crates floated out to the pitch. "When I call your name, please come forward to receive your jerseys, protective equipment and practice apparel."
Harry watched as his teammate's names were called and everyone received a black jersey with the Hogwarts crest on it. Everyone's jersey had their school house on the right sleeve as well as their name and number on the back. What that meant was that there were a lot of Gryffindor crests milling around the room.
Finally, Harry's name was called, and he rose to his feet with a massive smile on his face. After approaching Gwenog and her crate of equipment, he received a bag full of protective gear, practice clothing and two brand new Hogwarts team jerseys. He held one of them out in front of him so that he could study the emblems, the name POTTER and the large 07 on the back. Then on the front he saw a medium sized letter "A" under his left shoulder. Harry felt like he'd shiver with excitement.
"Okay everyone. If you all have your gear, then it's time to try it on. The renovations to the pitch will be done by tomorrow night but for today we will use the closer of the two old dressing rooms." Gwenog held her hand up as Harry was walking by, to stop him. "I want to thank you for all the work you did this morning Harry. We would've wasted a lot of time if you weren't so capable. I'm currently being harassed by both prospective sponsors and talent scouts that are trying to mob the field. For that reason, I feel that I should warn you of something. You will be approached by talent scouts for various teams over the next few weeks. A Pensieve memory reached a lot of different offices, to the point that even I saw one. You're lucky I play for an all-women's team or I'd be harassing you for a sign up as well. Your 'tryout,'" Gwenog drawled with bunny fingers... was some of the most violently beautiful flying, I have ever seen."
When Harry grinned, Gwenog looked at him funny, and he apologized. "Ah sorry, It's just you're the second person to use those words violent and beautiful. I didn't want to do any of that, but I did want to be on the team, so I was forced to… show my determination."
Gwenog nodded even as she rubbed her face in frustration. "Well it has been noticed, and I have been having to bar the field of interested parties all day. I know that you're muggle raised so I suggest you get some representation before you allow any of those people to approach you. They'll literally own your body for five sickles a year if you aren't careful. I want you to relay my advice to everyone else in the dressing room as well."
Harry nodded slowly. "Do you have any suggestions?"
"I personally use Andromeda Tonks and have always been very happy with her." Gwenog smiled because it appeared Harry was taking her advice seriously. "Tonks works both sides of the magical divide and she really knows her stuff."
"Thank you for the warning and the advice. I'll forward your words to the rest of the team and push for them all to get representation." With that Harry ran into the locker room to get changed.
Forge began the catcalling just as soon as Harry entered the locker room. "Harry James Potter, did you just get the Gwenog Jones as a fan club member? When we leave this dressing room, are we going to find an embroidered lightning bolt on her clothing?
Gred laughed hard and slapped Harry on the back in his amusement. "Sure, Gwenog, let me just conjure over a thousand pounds of cast iron for you, and then run the practice... kissy faces."
Slowly but surely, the entire locker room unraveled into some extremely childish laughter.
While Harry did end up blushing, he also beamed at his two most hilarious friends. "Gwenog did thank me, but she also let me know that she did us all a favor today, which was why she was so preoccupied. We all better find out what representation we can get and soon. She was busy all morning keeping away some very pushy talent scouts until we're all better informed. She implied the scouts are right scary and high pressure."
The locker room descended into shocked silence.
"Talent scouts," Gred slowly choked out.
"Seriously," Forge added, equally out of breath.
"Yes, I'm serious. They apparently received a Pensieve memory of our tryouts and are sending some people already." Harry gave both of the twins a serious look before he scanned everyone else in the room. "I was unbelievably impressed with your tryouts, so I can believe it."
"Yeah and your flying was nothing," Cedric interjected, with a grin. "I'm not buying it, Harry. I saw a black contrail behind your screaming broom, and I knew you were doing the impossible with it again."
"HARRY POTTER," the twins said in unison again, causing several people to nod. It appeared the twins were developing a new running joke and it was rapidly gaining popularity.
Harry shrugged as once again he tried to look confident and self-assured. "Yes, I'm probably going to be approached by talent scouts, but so will everyone else present in this room. At the moment, the people in this room represent the best that the United Kingdom has to offer in our age group… or… haven't you guys realized that yet?"
The fact seemed to settle in everyone's minds over the next few moments, and then they all started smiling wide, wide smiles.
"Yesss," Angelina crowed, loudly! "Holyhead Harpies, here I come!"
As soon as Angelina broke the silence, the rest of the locker room descended into chaos.
Forge was the one who found the team jackets and t-shirts and suggested that they should all wear them to dinner.
There was unanimous approval of this idea and they started getting dressed for practice.
It was a very tired Quidditch team that walked back up the lawns towards the castle. Gwenog had taken them through a full professional practice without either mercy or restraint. Harry was still feeling pretty good but he was catching several evil looks from his teammates for it. "Give it a week," he assured them all, in an exasperated voice. "You'll all feel right as rain."
"Ugh," was the only reply Gred and Forge had the energy to give (somehow still in perfect unison).
As the team marched into the Great Hall, conversations stopped everywhere. Harry had to admit that they all looked pretty damned sharp in their jacket, t-shirt, track pants combo. Harry was afraid to look at the girls' reaction to him in uniform, but he still caught sight of several bright red faces anyway. As he sat down with Nev, Mione and the Gryffindor members of the team, Ron suddenly shot to his feet and stormed out of the room.
"Was that an improvement or is it getting worse?" Harry didn't really expect an answer, he was just speaking his thoughts out loud.
The twins just shrugged, as they were becoming increasingly ambivalent towards their brother's so-called 'suffering.' Every day they tried to convince Ron to pull his head out of his ass, and every day the boy claimed Harry was ruining his life somehow. It was as ridiculous as it was sad, but Fred and George were officially done trying to fix the situation.
Turning back towards Harry, Gred threw his hands up in a defeated gesture. "It is indeed getting worse. My brother and I have repeatedly tried to talk to him about it, but no amount of logic is enough to pierce his thick skull. I think the saddest part is that he seriously thinks he's hurting you with his silent treatment, when the only person he's making miserable is himself. Do you even miss him at this point?"
Harry didn't answer the question. As it turns out he didn't have to. His friends got the point anyway.
"Ron's not doing anything productive with his time nowadays," Forge added, with yet another shrug of defeat. He's not contributing to the school or studying or playing or training or... ANYTHING... with the possible exception of chess. Don't get me wrong, I'm not strict about what Ron should be passionate about, just that he actually care about SOMETHING. Right now, he's just drifting along, enjoying his absurdly high expectations.
One of Forge's comments had just reminded Harry about something, which was causing a sly smile to form on his face. Without saying a word, Harry gestured for his newly curious friends to look across the Great Hall, to where a Mr. Draco Malfoy was sitting. "Speaking of contributing..."
Everyone at the table managed to turn in their seats just in time to see Malfoy's hair turn a bright hot pink, exactly the same as his tryout color. The boy hadn't noticed the color change yet, so he just continued eating with an extremely arrogant expression upon his face.
No one in the Great Hall even laughed at Draco this time, because at this point they were all extremely used to the boy having weird and embarrassing things happen to him. Draco Malfoy was the target of magical pranks from hundreds of students, from three different houses. That's why it was important to Harry that this time, Draco know for certain that it was him who was pranking him. He'd been far more subtle the other five times that he'd been the culprit.
"See," said Forge, as if this were all the proof he needed. "You're doing good deeds and giving back to the school and we… are... proud of you."
The highly amused group of Gryffindors, finished their dinner and then scattered to finish their assorted homework.
Author's Note:
Nothing too dramatic this chapter, but a lot of the developments that this chapter contains are worth experiencing rather than being fed in an info dump. I also like any opportunity to showcase the exchange of letters between Harry and Fleur, as they're both cute and they portray the fact that the two of them really do enjoy each other.
To Be Continued
Author's Note:
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