Chapter Three: Trip Like I Do
"Oy! Harry! Get up!"
Ron had never been a morning person. That is, until he'd become Captain of the house team. Every morning for the last two and a half weeks, Harry had regretted all over again that he'd turned down the position when McGonagall had offered it. He hoped Ron would never find out he wasn't the top choice, but Harry also didn't want him to find out that only reason he'd turned it down in the first place was because he'd known his studies with Dumbledore and his Head Boy duties would leave him with barely enough time to practice, let alone plan and strategize and everything else a Quidditch Captain does.
"Sod off Ron," Harry grumbled. "It's still dark out."
"It's Scotland, Harry!" Ron replied, entirely too chipper considering the hour. "It could be noon for all you know."
"Mrrrraaaaaggh." Harry yawned and stretched. "All right, all right, I'm awake, you git." Harry sat up and Ron shoved a mug of tea into Harry's hands.
"Hurry up, mate, the Slytherin's get the pitch in a bit over an hour and a half, and I still have to get the girls up."
"Yeah, yeah, just go away. I'll be out in ten."
Actually, he was out in five, but it took another fifteen to get Ginny and the other female Gryffindor into the common room. The second girl, a fourth year named Margot, was actually the reserve Seeker. Since Keeper and Seeker were the only specialized positions on the team, Ron had decided that he'd take it upon himself to train the next generation of Gryffindors. "After all," he'd said at the time, "we don't want Slytherin to have a chance after we leave, either."
Early morning practice was always simple drills. The chasers and keepers played with a Quaffle that had been shrunk to two-thirds of its normal size, making it harder for the keeper to block and for the Chasers to catch. Meanwhile, there were four Bludgers in play, bespelled to aggressively attack any player above the pitch. On top of all of that, there were three snitches in the air. Harry, as the best spell-caster on the team, was in charge of modifying the balls for practice.
It was pandemonium, but it worked. Already, Margot was at least as good as Malfoy at catching the snitch, and the Beaters, who'd already been on the team for a year, were almost as good as Fred and George.
As far as Harry could see, the weakest players on the team were, sadly, Ron and Ginny, but only because they weren't confident in their abilities. Harry hoped that would go away after their first win.
The sun was coming out now and, against their nature, so were the Slytherins. Goyle and Crabbe both looked like they would spontaneously combust and Malfoy, the most vampiric appearing of them all, seemed to pale even further as the rosy morning light shined down upon him.
"Well look at that," Draco called out as he stepped onto the pitch, broom in hand. "Stupid Weasels on both sides of the Quaffle!"
He stage-whispered, his voice carrying all the way to the Gryffindors above. "That's the only reason they ever win, you know. When those Muggle-lovers get hit in the head with a bludger, there's nothing to get hurt!"
Ginny studiously ignored the lot of them, and Ron had matured to the point that he didn't respond, other than to turn beet red and nearly lose control of his broom.
Harry decided it was time to test some of the things Dumbledore had been teaching him. The headmaster had taught him the basics of wandless magic, and Harry had been practicing summoning his wand. Unfortunately, his wand was in his locker in the Gryffindor supply room, well beyond the point he felt he could reach.
Instead, he picked one of the bludgers and tried to modify the attack spell on it to, instead of going after the players above the pitch, to chase the players ON the pitch.
Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, focusing all his magic and sending it to the- "Harry, watch out!" Ginny yelled.
Harry opened his eyes and ducked just in time to avoid hitting one of the hoops. Below him, he heard the Slytherins laugh and jeer.
"Look at Potter!" Draco yelled. "Bloody Gryffindor can't even AHHHHH!"
Harry slowed his broom and looked down. The scene below him was astounding.
Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and the other Syltherin players were being attacked by all FOUR practice bludgers, the Quaffle, as well as all three snitches. The Slytherins screamed as they were pelted and tried to run back inside, but all the balls gave chase. As soon as they all stepped off the pitch, the balls dropped to the ground.
Harry touched ground just as Mayfoy slammed the door shut behind him. By the time Ron realized his seeker was on the ground, Harry was already falling down in a dead faint.
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Notes: I know these chapters are short. I'm used to writing vignettes, so bear with me here, it's my first long fic - ever. I'm used to being able to just write from point A to point B - I don't know how I'm going to be able to fill all this space! Hopefully the chapters will grow as I get more comfortable with the format. I've got the story plotted out (mostly), but feedback is gonna determine how much and how fast I write. If readers don't like it, I'll go back to what I know... not that I've gotten many reviews for my two short fics on PK, mind. : )