Chapter 8 (Book 2)

Harry exited the train in regular Muggle clothes, accompanied by his usual four companions. They stood in King's Cross station, preparing themselves for another summer. Harry wasn't sure how much he was looking forward to another summer in the Potter mansion, but if what that strange Gandalf guy said was true, then he could spend most of his time playing Quidditch. He wondered if he should visit Merlin, as the old man had informed Harry that there would be no training this year.

"See you around, Potter!" called a voice Harry did not recognize.

"Yeah, see you, Harry!"

"I'll see you next year, Harry!"

"Bye, Harry!"

He had been getting these frequent farewells once he exited the compartment. Various students had rushed over to say goodbye to him. Even the Li sisters and Clearwater had the audacity to bid him adieu. It was all Su Li, her face encompassed in red, could do to splutter a goodbye, wishing him well as she garbled. The funniest of all, however, was Barbara's sister, Blaise. She came, towed by her older sister, to say a rather shy goodbye to Harry. It took a lot of courage from her, as up until now she had merely been throwing Harry shy glances.

Though, it was so very Gryffindor of her to trip herself clumsily and coincidentally fell into Harry's arms. Not one to waste an opportunity, she was even so bold as to peck Harry's cheek, causing Barbara to curse her sister's luck, muttering unintelligibly about the sheer number of failed attempts to do so on her own part. Of course, Harry's four companions didn't find this to be amusing. Once it was Barbara's turn, the girl was barely able to say goodbye with a pretty blush, no chance of touching him in any intimate way, as the looks from Harry's four companions were aimed to kill.

"I never would have guessed you'd be this famous after the feast, Harry." Sheila grinned at his side.

"It can't be helped, Sheila. Harry has this kind of thing that attracts both people and attention." Callista tendered the perky girl a soft smile.

"I second that thought," Regine consented, unwrapping some chocolate and popping it in her mouth. Flapping its wings speedily, her red owl hooted in agreement, perched on Regine's head.

"Potter deserves it. It's who he is," Daphne commented absentmindedly. Lazily moving her eyes to Regine's owl, she glared daggers at the thing. "Regine, get that filthy beast off your head. Who knows what kinds of diseases it carries? And, it's messing up your hair too."

The red owl howled crossly, flailing its wings even more as it flew off Regine's head and into the air.

"Hey! Don't be cruel to her, Daph, and she was not!" Regine allowed the owl to settle comfortably in her arms. She stroked the owl's feathers to pacify it. "Don't worry, girl, she didn't mean it." The owl hooted indignantly, glowering at Daphne. Never fancy the idea of backing down, Daphne shot it with more of deadly result. Hooting timidly, it recoiled from her glare. "Stop it, Daphne, you're scaring her!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of Daphne's lips. Who did that owl think she was? No one could compete with her glare.

Sheila laughed at this. "You can always depend on Daphne to fright everything away with her intimidating looks." Sheila paused in contemplation as a thought trespassed her mind. "Hey, Daph. Did you take facial lessons or something?" Daphne glared furiously, envisioning Sheila to vaporize on the spot. "Yep, definitely lessons… Hey, can I join that class of yours? I need to look mean too!" Sheila grinned teasingly, triumphant with her small victory.

Callista and Regine giggled freely at their friends' interactions, while the owl croaked in what appeared to be laughter. Harry, on the other hand, just smiled in contentment. Yeah, there was no way he could refute the Mirror of Erised. This was what he wanted most, for the girls to not forsake him. Although more mature now, he was still not strong enough to endure the loneliness again. If someone were to ask what he wished for, in his wildest dreams, he would simply tell them that he already held it in the palm of his hand.

"Harry..." Callista touched his arm gently, fracturing his daydream. He looked up to find several pairs of concerned eyes focused on him. He shook his head, indicating that it was nothing. No words were needed and they smiled dazzlingly at him. Callista's reserve shattered the moment she blinked her eyes past Harry's shoulder. "Mum, Dad!" she squeaked uneasily.

"Callista!" Diana Campbell scuttled over to her daughter and enveloped her daughter in a warm embrace, ditching her husband and the rest of the Greengrass family without a moment's hesitation. Harry instinctively distanced himself from them, intent on giving them some space.

Callista pushed her mother away gently. "Mum, what are you doing here? How did you even get here in the first place?" Callista was in a panic.

"We ran into William and Elizabeth outside the platform. They assisted us."

"Really? I thought the portal would prevent Muggles from entering," Callista asked in confusion.

"William explained to us that the portal simply serves as an illusion to people...or Muggles, as you put it. And, young lady, you're mumbling to yourself again…" Callista laughed nervously, remembering how her mother disapproved of dubbing non-magical people 'Muggles.' "As I was saying, it's merely an illusion. It doesn't prevent people with no magical core from entering, as long as you have magical people at your side, that is."

"That explains it all."

Diana transferred her attention from her daughter to her friend. "Harry, it's so good to see you again," she greeted him warmly.

"A pleasure to see you as well, Mrs. Campbell…" Harry returned with a stiff smile.

"Didn't I tell you to call me by my given name?"

"With Harry, it's pointless. He'll persist on being polite," a new voice cut in. "Didn't I warn you, Diana?"

"Yes," Diana laughed merrily. "Yes, you did."

Cheeks reddening, Harry turned his head to greet the new person. "Lady Greengrass."

"No matter how many times I ask you, you're still going to insist on being polite with us, aren't you, Harry?" the woman said in exasperation. Harry jumped a little at that, stuttering unintelligently. Elizabeth merely smiled at the boy she considered to be one of her own. She hugged him in a warm, loving style, similar to the way a mother embraces her children.

"Mother, it would seem you have entirely forgotten your own daughter...again..."

Breaking the hug hastily, she rushed to Daphne, who was clearly displeased. "Hello, Daphne, welcome back." Lady Greengrass emitted a few anxious giggles. Winking at Harry, Daphne stepped forward to hug her mother tightly, an act Elizabeth eagerly returned.

Scrutinizing Callista and Daphne, he sighed mutely, the child inside of him longing to be greeted by his own parents. Sheila quietly excused herself, leaving Harry with her trunks and the knowledge that she was searching for her parents. For some reason, Regine was adamant in staying with him, insisting that she could look for her family later on. Harry recognized this to be her Hufflepuff trait. A soft hand intertwined with his, and he looked to his side to stumble on Regine's smiling face.

"Hey, we won't leave you. You know that. They won't and I won't." Her owl once again perched on her left shoulder.

Harry smiled slightly, squeezing her hand. "I know, Regine." Despite her long hours spent in the greenhouse, her hands were always soft.

Someone called out Regine's name and she smiled at the familiar voices. Her twin brothers were waving their hands excitedly and grinning with identical boyish smiles. Regine unconsciously released Harry's hand, running to greet her family. Her owl pursued her in the air. Harry heaved a silent sigh, smiling sadly to himself. He couldn't blame them for that. How could he? A hand on his shoulder caused him to swing his body around, transforming the sad smile into a bright, albeit fake one for the stranger.

"Lord Greengrass."

"It's nice to see you, lad," the man chuckled.

Harry caught sight of Callista's father, David Campbell, eagerly greeting his daughter. Harry side-glanced and saw Astoria tackling her sister with such childish eagerness, Daphne smiling and hugging her all the while. "Good to see you as well, sir," Harry courteously answered.

"Harry, I do hope you forgive me for deceiving you. It's not something I took pleasure in doing."

"On, no, sir! It's fine! In fact, I should be thanking you, Lord Greengrass. You've given me a reason to step forward, and stop looking into the past… For that, I'm grateful… I truly am." Glancing back at the girls, he picked up Sheila and Regine's families participating in a big reunion. A genuine smile coiled across Harry's lips as his eyes landed on all four girls.

"I still have my promise to keep, Harry."

Curiosity swelled inside Harry as he gazed at the man.

"If you find yourself playing in one of the major matches in the upcoming Quidditch games of the British and Irish league... this time I'll be sure to come to those matches. That, I can promise you." William winked at the young lad in front of him. Harry snorted in amusement, shaking his head at what he had gotten himself into. Now he knew where Daphne got her shrewdness from. "Welcome home, lad..."

Harry's smile widened as he shook the great man's hand.

"You're inviting all of them to dinner, mother?" Daphne inquired slowly. "You mean the Campbells, Barberis and the Jonnets?"

Harry and Lord Greengrass were deep in discussion while the others were having a chat of their own. Astoria set off to talk with Noah, Regine's nine-year-old brother, who was the same age as Astoria. The boy was silent as a rock, but it looked as if he was doing his very best to be a companion to Astoria, albeit with tints of red marking his cheeks. Harry had a strange feeling tingling inside of him concerning what was going on with that small boy at the moment.

"Yes, of course! Isn't it marvelous to have dinner with your friends? It's simply delightful!" Elizabeth gushed, nearly floating away with enthusiasm. "Don't you agree, William?"

Coughing violently, William composed himself and sent his lovely wife an alluring smile, willing for her not to be angry at him. "Yes, marvelous, sweetheart..." And he really wasn't bothered by it. The more, the merrier. The mansion required large amounts of people in order to remain lively. It was much too forlorn and dark for his tastes.

"Yes, it is marvelous," Daphne consented, smiling slightly at the thought of spending even more time with her best friends.

Elizabeth beamed. "Harry, you'll be coming too, yes?"

"Of course. Without Potter, it's incomplete," Daphne scowled, intersecting both arms over her chest. "You are coming, right, Potter?"

"Yes, I am. It doesn't feel right to go home and not have a proper dinner with all of you after another year at Hogwarts. By now, I'm accustomed to it." The Greengrass family smiled at his positive reply.

"Well, let us all leave then and postpone the conversations until dinner," William proposed as he and his wife went off to inform the adults of their departure.

Daphne gestured her head after them. "What are we waiting for? Might as well go with them."

Bobbing his head in agreement, Harry seized the handle of his trunk and tagged along after the group. His tracks were halted when someone clutched at his free arm, compelling his body to stiffen in alarm. Only one or two people could make him feel like this. He rotated his head and repressed his emotions slowly. There, standing in front of him, were his parents. Lily held his arm tightly, refusing to let him free. James stood behind her. Both bore a smile on their face, prompting Harry to conceal his deep frown somewhat successfully.

"We've been looking for you, Harry," Lily said, annihilating the awkward silence between the three. "We were getting worried, so we went searching for you."

Worried? Since when did she every worry about him? As far as he was concerned, none of them particularly paid any attention to him.

"Here, let me get your trunk for you and welcome you home. It's no fun not being able to use magic outside Hogwarts' walls, huh?" James commented cheerily, grinning at him. "Come on, let's not keep everyone waiting for us. We have to celebrate you and Daniel's return from Hogwarts. The Weasley's, Sirius, and Remus are up ahead waiting for us with your brother and sister."

Now, Harry was terribly confused. Was this some kind of freak show that Muggles usually put up with? He couldn't even remember the last time he had conversed with them in a friendly manner. And now, they acted as if he had been getting along with them all this time. He watched as James snatched his trunk handle from him and Lily tugged his arm in the direction of the red heads. He was so shocked trying to comprehend all of this that he didn't even had the chance to provide an answer for either of them. Fortunately, Daphne came to his rescue, furiously grabbing his arm and stopping the three of them.

"I'm very sorry to say this, but Harry has been invited to have dinner with our family. He won't be joining you after all. Perhaps, another year." Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, eyes glinting maliciously. Mere moments ago, she had told her parents that she'd handle this herself.

Lily bit her lips, not forgetting this girl at all. "Yes, but he'll be declining the offer now. I believe it's best for Harry to spend time with his family, though thank you for your offer." She was just as stubborn as Daphne.

"That's not for you to answer. Harry responded to us rather positively earlier on," Daphne hissed, gripping Harry's arm. "He'll be the judge of that."

"Ms. Greengrass, is it?" James intercepted, adjusting his glasses in irritation. Lily had notified him earlier of this young girl and their son's other companions. Harry's group, suffice to say, was unusual in James' view and he was greatly disgruntled to discover that his son was so close to a Slytherin, not to mention the fact that she stemmed from a notoriously dark family. "We know what Harry wants," he finished simply.

This only served to make Daphne angrier. "How do you know what he wants? You don't even know him to begin with!" she snarled, creating a scene.

Both adults took these harsh words in a painful way. They submerged into their thoughts, inducing their memories of Harry. Seeing Lily slackening her grip on her son's arm, Daphne wasted no time in yanking Harry away from them. Feeling him disconnected from her hands, Lily instinctively flung herself at him once more. Daphne growled menacingly as she pulled Harry's other arm more forcefully, desperate for the woman to yield.

Finally snapping out of his daze, Harry silently conveyed a message to Daphne with the look on his face. Reading this message, Daphne tentatively liberated his arm from her grip while remaining in her spot, determined to take him away from his family. Harry wheeled his head in the direction of his parents, smiling a bogus smile. Lily saw this and her heart clenched, though she managed to refrain from mentioning this to him.

"I'm sorry, but it would be vulgar for me to reject their invitation now," Harry proceeded. "I'll go with them and be home late. You two don't have to wait for me."

"But wouldn't you rather be with your family?" James asked impetuously, furrowing his eyebrows. Harry's smile faltered a tad and both adults caught on to it. They exchanged glances, both thinking the same thing. Next time, never mention the family thing in front of Harry.

"You're having a celebration with the Weasley's, right?" Harry asked.

James smiled, thinking this was a good sign. "Yes, if we can just be on our way-"

"Then all the more reason not to celebrate with you," Harry replied. He smiled stiffly afterwards. "You see, there was an... event... that happened during the feast that caused an... awkward moment... between their kids and I. Ask the brat-" Harry cleared his throat deliberately. "I mean, my baby brother, and he can tell you the whole story. I was the reason Gryffindor didn't win the house cup."

"Wait... you're not in Gryffindor?" The temperature around them sunk cold, drowning out all the warmth. That had been a stupid thing to say. Rashly, Harry grabbed Daphne's hand, squeezing it for comfort in an effort to contain his emotions. All this tension and he still managed to maintain a tight smile. Lily glared at James, both knowing they would now lose him to the Greengrass clan.

"I have to go now," Harry chocked out. "No need to keep people waiting for me. Rosaline might be searching for the two of you."

"Why don't you go say hello to your sister first? She probably wants her big brother to greet her," Lily said hastily, desperate for Harry to go with them.

"No, it's fine," Harry answered, preparing to exit. "She can see me tomorrow, she'll understand. Rosaline is a brilliant girl. As for the celebration, it will certainly go well without me and I really don't feel comfortable leaving the Greengrass family. I've been accepting their invitation ever since my first year at Hogwarts." Harry made a move to seize his trunk.

"If it's all the same to you, Harry, I'll be bringing your trunk home with us. That way, you don't have to carry it everywhere you go. It is pretty heavy," James protested. Harry finally relented, merely desiring to get away from them as soon as possible. This time, Harry strongly released his arm from Lily's.

"Come on, Pot - Harry... Let's not keep everyone waiting for us." Sending one final glare at the Potter parents, Daphne hauled her friend from them and toward her own parents.

James held Lily steadily in place, urging her to let go of Harry this time. The situation didn't bode well for either of them, and Harry clearly favored the Greengrass family more than his own. James' whispered in Lily's ear that if she made things worse now, it would only be harder to reach out to Harry later. And so they examined their eldest son's back, noting he bade them mere glances as he walked toward the other group. Also hard to ignore were the three girls glaring viciously at them across the distance as they towed Harry away.

The Greengrass matriarch was glowering at them more heatedly, repugnance shimmering in her eyes at the Potter adults. The head of the Greengrass family merely nodded his head at them, though distinctly missing was the friendly expression that should have accompanied the acknowledgement. The other three families were bewildered by this spectacle, even more confused when their daughters rushed to keep Harry away from his parents. The Potters' eyes loitered on the spot the section of the crowd their son had occupied, despite his having vanished away with another family long ago.

It was late at night, nearly eleven, when green fire burst from the fireplace of the Potter mansion. This time, Harry landed on both feet, smirking smugly at his success. Who was the boss now? That is, before he lost his balance, wobbling violently on the spot and falling to his butt. Cursing irritably, he mumbled incoherently to himself. What was wrong with him and magical transportation? Damn it, even the Campbell adults were having more achievement than him and they were both Muggles! Harry was mortified at this realization.

He hated the way the girls giggled at his turbulent voyages through the world of magical transportation.

No matter how much instruction he received, he just couldn't seem to get it right. Grumbling stridently, he rose to his feet, not bothering to sweep the dust off his attire. Exhaling noisily, Harry pulled his hat back, mending his ruffled hair. Late nights really exhausted him, and the gathering in Greengrass Manor had been nothing like the previous years. It was much merrier than usual. He raked a hand through his hair in frustration before dragging his feet in the direction of his room. Sensing someone in the room, he was suddenly on guard.

"Harry..."

He flinched for the second time that day, his right hand gripped tightly on his hat while the other clenched into a fist in his coat's pocket. Bottling his emotions, he looked at the person over his shoulder.

Lily Potter had fallen asleep waiting for Harry to come home. She was awoken by a persistent grumbling, but she couldn't imagine her son coming home this late. But surely that was to be expected after years of not knowing how he was, what he did, or where he was for long stretches of time. Lily was about to say something when she saw Harry yawn unconvincingly. It didn't fool her. She wasn't called the brightest witch of her generation for nothing.

"I think we all need to go to bed. I'm tired as hell." He gazed upfront, refusing to look at Lily. "Well, um... Goodnight."

He hastened his pace and strode to his room. Jogging to catch up to her son, Lily still lagged behind him. Harry was too fast. Her heart tore to see her son avoiding her so purposefully. But suddenly he froze. Curiosity splashed across her features as she watched him. The source of his pause was her three-year-old daughter, standing in front of her brother with a doll in her arms. Huge eyes, Lily rushed to her daughter, who was clearly very sleepy.

"Rosy, what are you doing out here? You should've been sleeping in your room."

"Rosy is weting for Hawwy to cme home," the girl smiled groggily.

Harry's eyes twitched at the way his sister addressed him, though he managed to give her a small smile, still entirely overlooking his mother. Lily glanced up, aware of the genuine smile on her son's lips. She bit her own lips, tears manifesting themselves in her eyes. It had been a long time since she'd witnessed him smiling that happily. Her gaze dropped to the floor, arms still holding her daughter. She wished so badly for her son to direct that smile at her.

For a moment, Harry's eyes flickered to Lily, causing him to frown. "Rosaline, next time you don't have to wait up. You can see me the next morning, alright?" Eyes sleepy, the girl merely smiled innocently, stepping out of her mother's hold and raising both of her tiny hands, begging Harry to take her. Harry glanced at Lily's shocked face, and then his eyes returned to his little sister. Pursing his lips and scowling, he walked straight past their stunned and confused faces.

"You should take her to bed... I'm going to sleep for the night," Harry muttered to Lily, evidently not in the mood to put up a shield beneath his true colors. He ignored Lily's attempt to discuss his behavior and instead slammed the door to his room in her face. He cast a powerful locking charm on the door, growling at the weird day he was having.

Lily stared at the place Harry had disappeared from, sighing miserably to herself. There was a small tug on the hem of her gown. She looked down and saw her daughter raising her hands once more. Smiling a little, Lily lifted Rosaline from the ground and glided into her daughter's room. She tucked her daughter, already fast asleep, into her bed. Engulfing her daugher's form in a warm blanket, she cast a warming charm to keep Rosy warm through the night. Lily extracted herself from the room, eyes saddened, and lingered instead outside Harry's door. Heaving a sad sigh, she decided to retire for the day. Opening the door to the master bedroom, she was surprised to find her husband still awake, sitting on the bed. He smiled rather desolately at her.

"How was it?" he asked softly. "Did you get a chance to talk to him?" Lily shook her head, eyes shimmering with fresh tears. "I-I see..."

21 June 1992.

A loud knock sounded from Harry's door, followed by a whine.

Shifting irritably, Harry threw a pillow over his head to block out the noise. More banging followed, and the whining grew louder. He sat upright, tossing the pillow to the ground in aggravation and shielding his eyes from the light seeping through the curtains. Grumbling in fury, he rumpled his hair to give it even more of a tousled look. Harry glared at the door, fully aware who was waking him this early in the morning. Waving his hand, he elevated the locking charm. Within seconds, the door was opened by a small girl, tiptoeing in with two hands still on the door knob. Rosaline grinned at her brother's angry looks, unaware of what they meant. Shrieking gleefully, her tiny legs scurried to climb Harry's bed.

"Ooof..." And just like that, he was being tackled by a small body. Harry growled at this, gently removing his sister from him. "You're heavy, you know that?"

They girl pouted crossly, huffing. "Rosy is not fat!"

Rosaline puckered her lips and folded her arms over her chest. The pose made her look all the cuter, and Harry rolled his eyes playfully before stalking away from his bed. He began rummaging through his trunk for a small, stupid-looking troll, which he handed it to his sister. Rosaline inspected the doll.

"Rosy is not a troll! Rosy is a princess!" the girl roared, throwing her tiny arms in the air, exasperated.

Harry chuckled lowly, causing the scowl and anger in the girl's face to vanish. She had never seen her big brother smile so frequently, and his chuckle was a thrilling sound that melted all of the anger out of her. Rosaline watched in delight as Harry waved his hand, changing the doll from a troll into a princess, just like his sister dreamed of. Another wave and it grew to the size of Rosaline. Seeing this, Rosy exploded in delight, hugging the doll tightly.

"Oho, I get you a troll and you're all sulky, but I change it to a princess and you love it, huh? I always thought the troll suited you."

Rosaline poked her tongue out at Harry's teasing, liking this new brother of hers. She had never seen this side of him before. Shuffling over to him, she pulled his arm to her height and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. A tint of red developed on both of his cheeks, Harry being unused to such affection. She squealed at her brother's charming expression, causing Harry to scowl. With one final squeal, she dashed off to wherever she intended to go, dragging the doll along with her. Harry cast a weightless charm on the doll, just to make sure his sister wouldn't struggle to bring the doll with her. Harry had a feeling the doll would be her new favorite. Amused, he flicked his door shut and summoned a towel.

Sighing tiredly, he retired to his bathroom to prepare for the day ahead of him. Suddenly remembering there was something he had to do that day, he gazed at the lone parchment on his desk. A contract of his entry to Puddlemere United, which he'd signed last night after discussing it with William. Now he just needed to bring himself to Greengrass Manor today, along with the contract. There he will meet Mr. Gandalf, and the freaky guy would take him to the training field. Lifting the contract, Harry pondered this more carefully.

If he did this, there was a strong chance it would change his life. He grunted, placing the contract on the desk once more. Why was he exerting his brain energy on something like this? He usually went along with whatever surprises his life brought him, regardless of the changes they brought with them. Harry shrugged his shoulders and glided into the bathroom.

Grabbing his brown coat that reached to his knees, he stuffed the contract into one of the pockets while simultaneously reaching for his Ascot hat. Exiting the room, he closed the door securely before sauntering down the stairs. All of a sudden, his foot froze in mid-air. All eyes were on him, and he felt uncomfortable. His entire family sat eating breakfast. Was it just him, or did they seem like they were expecting him to join them?

"Harry," Lily greeted her son warmly. Harry scowled a little, trying to hide it from them. Why they were suddenly being so friendly to him was beyond him. In fact, he would prefer it if they would just leave him alone for the rest of the summer, like usual. "We've been waiting for you. Come and have a seat -"

"I have to go," he cut her off briskly, already walking to the fireplace, ignoring all of their looks.

"Wait, where are you going, Harry?" James demanded, standing up from his seat with concern.

Recomposing himself, Harry spun around to confront James, smiling tightly. "It's just something I promised Lord Greengrass. It's not like me to break promises, so I should go. Don't mind me, I'll be gone for most of the day. I can take care of myself." And without leaving them the opportunity to reply, he swept into the living room.

"Harry, wait!" Lily scuttled to him. Stopping, he looked at her, tilting his head as if to say, 'yes?' Lily smiled awkwardly at him. "Lord Greengrass won't be angry if he has to wait a little while. Have breakfast before you go. It's the most important meal of the day."

Harry stiffly returned her smile. "No, it's fine. I had breakfast already-" His words were cut off by the audible sound of his stomach growling. His eyes twitched, though he managed to preserve his smile. Why in God's name was his stomach betraying him? It was part of his own body, damn it!

Frowning, Lily's smile dropped momentarily, only to light back up again quickly. "A little breakfast won't do any harm-"

"If you'll excuse me, I really need to go," Harry interrupted abruptly, already grabbing a handful of glittering powder from the flowerpot and throwing it into the fireplace. "Greengrass Manor!" Before anyone else could breathe a word, he had stepped directly into the green flames. The last word he heard was Lily shouting out his name before the green fire swarmed his sight.

Harry's feet slammed on the ground, and just like some miniature devil was pulling pranks behind his back, Harry again tripped ineptly on his own feet, falling to the ground with a heavy thud. Looking up, he came across a grinning Peter Gandalf, who was struggling ineffectively to contain his laughter. Gandalf offered his hand and pulled Harry up from the floor. More out of habit than necessity, Harry brushed at the specks of dirt on his coat and adjusted his hat. Next time, it might be better to walk to his destination, no matter how long it might take him.

"Not good with Portkeys, are you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry grumbled affirmatively in response as he surveyed his surroundings. He had to conceal his amazement at how large the place was. There was a large building, beside which rested a field, opposite which was another field. Both fields were astonishingly larger than their Hogwarts counterparts. One field was currently occupied by seven players training rather aggressively. Presuming they were the main players, Harry watched as people, mainly players and employees, crowded all over the place. Harry simply couldn't believe Lord Greengrass owned this place, although he supposed that was to be expected from such a wealthy man.

"Gandalf, you're late," complained a gruff voice. Harry and his companion whirled around to see an aged man with tremendous height, broad shoulders, a peculiar mix of white-blond hair, and arresting blue eyes.

Gandalf elicited a bright smile. "Ah, Philbert, it's wonderful for you to greet us yourself. I would've thought you'd be far too busy with the players, or all those pesky papers in your office!"

"They're not worth my time. Bunch of sissies, those lads are," Philbert arrogantly spoke. "Why on earth are you late, Gandalf?"

"My apologies, Lady Greengrass insisted I join them for breakfast before I left. Lord Greengrass was also curious about our main players' development. He wants them in the best condition for the upcoming British and Irish league."

Philbert's eyes shined with curiosity. "And? Is he pleased?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes. Yes, quite pleased, if I do say so myself."

"Good." Philbert nodded in relief before switching his attention to Harry. "Is this the kid you were prattling about?"

"Yes! May I present to you a remarkably talented young man, Harry Potter!" Philbert's eyes narrowed at Harry. "Harry, this is the Puddlemere United coach, Philbert Deverill."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Harry politely acknowledged.

The man eyed him up and down, making Harry increasingly uncomfortable. "Are you sure he's up for it, Gandalf? This kid is what…thirteen?"

"Fourteen," Harry answered with a scowl. He didn't like this man at all. Deverill arched an eyebrow at the way Harry had blatantly talked back to him.

"Now, now, let's drop these unfavorable pleasantries," Gandalf fumbled in his robes and brought Harry's contract out, handing it to Deverill.

After checking the contract over and over again, Deverill grumbled, finally accepting it. Why Lord Greengrass had approved this contract was beyond him. The boy was too young for his taste. After all, he was still a student! Oh, well. He'd just have to go along with the procedure accordingly.

"Since you're close to Gandalf, he can give you a tour of our training facilities. After that, suit up in your gear, kid. You can join the others in the second pitch and we'll see what you're made of. If I don't take a liking to you, you'll be dropped out and never to step a foot in here again. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry visibly scowled at the man, glaring directly into his eyes. Deverill was slightly taken aback, no one had ever disrespected him so blatantly before. Thankfully, Gandalf steered the kid away from him after only a moment of unwanted confrontation. Deverill watched the boy's retreating figure with increasing interest. Well, he had some guts, Deverill would give him that much. But the kid's performance was all that mattered.

"I'm telling you, Philbert, Mr. Potter is very talented on a broom! The way I saw him play was beyond my wildest imagination! You know Hooch, don't you? I had a talk with her, and she praised Mr. Potter again and again for his talent."

"And I'm telling you, Gandalf, he's not that good compared to the other players here. Hogwarts must be losing its Quidditch reputation. Rubbish, that kid! Hooch has been losing her touch ever since she left the professional field," Deverill countered grumpily. Both men stood on the pitch watching twenty players gathering in the distance. Their eyes lingered on Harry, who was overlooking his surroundings. "Look at him, he's already the laughing stock of the team. He makes me want to weep! Every player here is over the age of twenty and he's just a kid! This is early for him… too early, in fact. He's what? Thirteen?"

"Fourteen, and nearly fifteen, I'll have you know."

"Of course, of course. Whatever you say."

Gandalf gazed at the other players as they laughingly mocked Harry. Harry, discounting his environments, looked bored rather than nervous. "You're being arrogant, Philbert, and you're going to swallow your words, as will the other players when Mr. Potter completes his training. Mr. Potter is special. I just know it."

"We'll see about that. Though I do have to admit, he's got quite a fit body for a kid." Deverill took note of the way the training robes hugged Harry's body. "Looks like he's been preparing for this for years."

"See!" Gandalf exclaimed excitedly.

"He can only impress me through performance, not appearance, Gandalf." Deverill stared at the team's trainers, barking orders sternly, "Give them eight laps around the field to warm-up first!"

The six trainers nodded their heads in unison and immediately carried out their boss's orders.

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh? He's still new to all this."

"I intended it to be harsh."

"Philbert, he's just a boy. I can understand eight laps for the others, but him?"

"His being here means it's his responsibility to do whatever the hell I want his arse to do," Deverill argued. "What? Unsure of your talented boy?"

"I didn't say that. I have the utmost confidence in Mr. Potter's abilities."

A smirk appeared on Deverill's gruff face. "We'll see..."

The last of the training ended with many players exhausted from the running, heaving heavy breaths. Harry, on the other hand, seemed only slightly fatigued, impressing everyone on the field. The coach and financial manager of the team took special notice of the fact that Harry was always at the front of the line, first to start and first to finish. Harry had trained in the ways of Muggle martial arts, having wanted to protect himself before he had learned of his magical heritage. So it was no surprise to him that he had quite the endurance.

"He's got enough stamina to impress me quite a bit, I'll give him that," Deverill calmly claimed.

"And it would seem he still has plenty left," Gandalf said in awe. Deverill scowled at that.

Shifting to one of the trainers, he sternly commanded him. "Alright, I want to get on with the training regimen. Let them fly for a few minutes before going through the usual." The trainer nodded his head, intimidated by the man's presence. It was well known how stern the coach was. "Well, get on with it!" Deverill watched in satisfaction as the trainer scurried away from him and asked the players to mount their brooms.

There were a number of heavy, wooden dolls hovering in the air, set in various positions in order to force players to evade.

The purpose of the first training exercise was to fly from one goal post to the other, one at a time, as the trainers timed and reviewed their performances. Of the twenty players, Harry was the sixth fastest. This was largely due to the fact that he had decided to ram through the last three dolls blocking his way, rather than evading them like the other players. He had been surprised by the heavy weight of the dolls, but managed to pass through them all the less. The others were very impressed at his display of power and the excellent way with which he handled the broom. The general feeling among them was that Harry Potter was a natural in broom.

"Who's the kid, coach?" a new voice interjected. Jocelind Wadcock, the captain of Puddlemere United, was amazed at Harry's talent. At times, it seemed as though Harry and the broom were one single being.

"Wadcock, this field is for reserve players only. Go back to your teammates and wait for me there, like the captain is supposed to do."

"Lighten up, coach. I just want to familiarize myself with the reserve players this year. Why can't we just have permanent reserve players, anyway? Heck of a lot easier than changing them every year,"

"It's because we'd like to give the opportunity to those who show great potential," Gandalf answered enthusiastically.

"Ah, Mr. Gandalf, sir. Good to see you again."

"Good to see you as well, Mr. Wadcock."

Wadcock nodded his head. "So, who's the kid, coach? I've never seen him around. He a fresh player?"

"Yes, a student from Hogwarts, recommended by Gandalf here. Only thirteen years old."

"Philbert, he's fourteen, and even you have to admit his performance is extraordinary for a young fellow," Gandalf admonished.

"I agree, coach," Wadcock commented, his eyes on Harry.

"This is just the first obstacle. He'll break down at the next stage, just wait and see," Deverill muttered grumpily. Turning his attention back to the trainers, he barked, "Get on with the next stage!"

The dolls were brought down as the trainers charmed several bludgers to chase the players. This exercise was simple. All the players had to do was evade the furious bludgers for as long as possible. However, these bludgers were nothing like Harry had ever faced at Hogwarts. Every player was forced to participate, and the last one standing would stand the highest chance of becoming a reserve player. Not only were the players required to evade the bludgers, but also their teammates flying amidst the chaos.

Harry emerged victoriously, his knack for evading bludgers and uncoordinated players tremendously impressive. At one point he'd even attempted, to no avail, to out-fly the bludgers, who consequently proved themselves to be faster than his broom, however, he was nonetheless praised for his brave attempt. Harry had managed to remain the only player not knocked off his broom because of his reflexes and innate sense for incoming attacks. Apparently his tough training with Merlin had paid off.

"Something tells me he's a natural flier," Wadcock observed, already picturing the boy as the brilliant player he would be in the years to come.

"Yes, he does, doesn't he? The way he played the last game at Hogwarts was most spectacular! I felt compelled to propose the training offer to him immediately!" Gandalf exclaimed.

"Well I, for one, think you did a great job in bringing him here, Mr. Gandalf, sir."

Gandalf beamed at the compliment.

"There are still many more obstacles left for him to overcome. Don't get your hopes up on this kid," Deverill said brusquely.

"Just don't be disappointed if he passes them all, coach."

"Wadcock!" Deverill snapped. "Get back to your post and practice! I don't seem to recall giving you permission to come here! The league is just around the corner, so you'd best be sharpening up the team. With that attitude of yours, we'll be knocked out in our first match!" Wadcock stood up straighter in response to the stern voice and swiftly jumped to accomplish the task.

"The kid will break down after this session," Deverill continued as if Wadcock had never interrupted him.

"You need to give the boy a chance, my friend. I know he's young, but perhaps that's just what need to win the league. But for now, you must excuse me, as I have papers waiting in my office to attend to. I'll check on his progress later on." Gandalf shook his head at his friend. "And for the record, I always follow protocol when inviting a new player to join Puddlemere. I didn't play favorites with this boy. He was talented, so I signed him on. You're just lucky I found him before one of the opposing teams did." He turned away from the players and sauntered over to the large building, stopping once more only to shoot another comment at Deverill. "Oh, and Philbert? If it weren't for our owner suggesting I check in with the boy at his last match, I would never have found him in the first place."

The bold statement swept Deverill off his feet and he found himself looking at his colleague in shock. "You're saying Lord Greengrass recommended him to you? But that's never happened before…"

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"What on earth could the boy have done to pique the owner's interest?"

"I have no idea. I was merely informed of his connection to the Greengrass family - apparently the eldest daughter is quite close to Mr. Potter."

"So, what? The kid requested for the eldest daughter to get him onto the team?" Deverill asked in outrage.

"You misunderstand me, Philbert. Lord Greengrass had to trick the boy into playing his best at the Hogwarts games. That way I could use my position as scout."

Deverill's eyebrow rose up at this strange occurrence. Never before had the owner acted so strangely toward a person, maybe the kid did have something special in him. Deverill turned away from Gandalf's retreating figure and roved the field with his eyes. Just because the owner wished it so did not mean he had to let the kid on the team. He was thirteen, for Merlin's sake! Err, fourteen… The boy's inexperience in real matches and his inability to work together with his teammates would be his downfall.

"Divide them into positions - chasers, beaters, seekers, or keepers. We'll judge their performance that way, from here on out," Deverill roared, watching in satisfaction as the trainers scurried off to do as he ordered. Resting his eyes once more on the boy, he realized with a strange curiosity that Harry would be playing chaser.

Harry sighed in exhaustion. He was completely worn out from training, a fact that made him realize just how different the professional level was from Quidditch at Hogwarts. But thankfully, due to his training with the greatest bastard on earth, his body could handle anything the Puddlemere trainers threw at him. After all, it had only been one day and people were already in awe at him.

Stretching his strained neck, he winced. Getting hit by those bludgers was not something he looked forward to going through again. Compared to the beaters here, bludgers thrown by Hogwarts' beaters were like getting punched by a baby. He shook his head, clearing it of bludger fantasies. Analyzing his surroundings, he sighed in frustration. He was standing in the coach's office, having previously changed out of his training gear and back into the attire he'd been wearing when he arrived. His brown coat hung loosely across his left forearm as he stood in the room, waiting for the coach.

"Good, you're here," came the gruff voice. Harry glanced over his shoulder to see the coach enter, shutting the door behind him. Harry's eyes followed the coach's movements as the man took a seat behind his desk. "I don't have a whole lot to say to you, kid, but let's get to the point. I summoned you here after the training session for a reason." Harry nodded his head. "Tough training, huh?"

Confused, Harry nevertheless answered politely. "Yes. Hogwarts is nothing compared to this."

"At the professional level, we push our players to the height of their potential and beyond. Professional Quidditch is demanding, kid. Very demanding. Winning a cup is imperative to us, cups are our golden tickets to better lives. I mean, we thrill at the taste of total and complete victory. Do you get what I'm saying, kid?"

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation. "You're saying it's as though your very life depends on winning this cup."

"Precisely. You know, Potter, you're beginning to grow on me. The other players here, they don't have the brains to understand me, but you... you get me, kid. And that's good for you, because there are only two people you need to convince to sign you on to Puddlemere United. Do you know who those people are, kid?" Harry shook his head truthfully. "Peter Gandalf and me. You know Gandalf already approved you joining the club by handing you a contract, but I haven't agreed to it yet."

Harry breathed deeply to calm his emotions. "You meant to say that a person needs two approvals to get on the team. So even if one of you approves, it doesn't matter as long as the other doesn't. It has to be both."

"You're a brilliant kid and you're on my good list." A tiny smile crossed the man's face. "The thing that I don't like about you though, is your age. The problem there is that you'll be missing training as a student at Hogwarts. I don't like my players missing training, understand, kid?" Harry nodded his head affirmatively, bracing himself. "You still have a long way to go. I'll admit it's impressive for a kid like yourself to breeze through our initial training program, but that isn't enough for me." Deverill eyed the kid in an attempt to identify his feelings, but it was impossible. "Congratulations, kid, you're a Puddlemere."

Stunned, Harry blinked his eyes in confusion as the coach signed his contract.

"Training starts tomorrow at seven o'clock, sharp. Here's your I.D. badge, kid. Don't lose it." The coach handed Harry a badge imprinted with the club's emblem - two golden bulls, horns crossed. "That badge also serves as your Portkey. It'll bring you to the lobby on the ground floor. Your locker will be up tomorrow, with your jersey inside." Deverill waved his wand, and Harry's badge flashed brightly. Harry's splitting image plastered across the plastic, directly on top of the emblem.

"I thought I wasn't allowed to join the team?"

Deverill allowed a smirk to curl upon his lips. "I forgot to mention that with the owner's approval, you don't need Gandalf's and mine."

"Really?"

"I'm beginning to like you, kid, but don't get your hopes up. Yeah, I approve of you being on the team. I can't deny that you're a very talented player, and we'd be stupid to turn you down. But you're still inexperienced in real matches. We'll just see how far you can go from here. You know, I once learned something important from a creepy old man. Sometimes one little seed can grow into a menacing plant. Right now, kid, you're that seed."

"Uh... thank you... coach..." Harry said awkwardly.

Deverill nodded his head solemnly. "Good. Be ready for tomorrow, kid. The training will be even more severe. You can use the floo down in the lobby to get home today. Now, get out of my sight, you just gave me a ton of work and a headache. It's not easy dragging you into this club."

Harry found his way out of the office, smiling unconsciously at what happened today. He was on the team. Generally, things like this didn't excite him, but today he felt like he would burst. He had just become the youngest person to ever join a professional Quidditch team. This was a sign that he had a good life ahead of him.

30 June 1992.

Daniel Potter thought he was the first one to awake in the mansion. No longer tired, he decided to stroll around in an attempt to kill time.

Once he arrived downstairs, he heard someone bustling around in the kitchen. This baffled him, as his mum never woke up this early. As he stepped into the kitchen, he was met with a strange surprise. There was his brother, leaning against the counter, nonchalantly reading letters from his friends. However, that wasn't the astonishing thing. It was the frying pan on the stove, cooking itself without anyone attending to it. There wasn't a wand in his brother's hand, nor a warning letter from the ministry for his use of underage magic. How powerful was his brother? As far as anyone knew, doing even the simplest magic without a wand was excruciatingly hard and required loads of concentration. But not for his brother - he did it coolly, without a care.

"How long are you going to stand there and gape, brat?" That caused Daniel to wisely shut his gaping mouth, blushing embarrassingly. "I just wished there was something disgusting in here. That way I could stuff it in your mouth."

Daniel grumbled incoherently, by now far too used to his brother sending such scathing comments on his way.

Harry didn't bother to look up and he sat on one of the chairs. Waving his hand without so much as a glance, his eyes still intent on reading the letters he'd received from the girls, two plates and two glasses came flying down to position themselves on the table. Leaning back carelessly in his chair and with another wave, the frying pan flew to the table and served him the meal. Daniel stared in confusion at the two meals laid out on the table. One for his brother, but whom was the other intended for? This time, Harry glanced up, eyes boring into Daniel's.

"Don't be an idiot, brat. It's for you." Daniel fluttered his eyes in shock. "Don't worry, I didn't poison it. If I had known you'd be up early today, then yeah, I would have fed you with some of the deadliest poison I could find, but since the future is unpredictable, I didn't get the chance." The eleven-year-old boy choked on his own saliva at the casual way his brother stated this. Was Harry joking, or was this for real? "Well, what are you waiting for? Sit down and dig in, brat."

Daniel hastened to take a seat next to his brother and eat the breakfast Harry had kindly made for him. He blinked his eyes in shock at the delicious taste in his mouth. For a long while, the two brothers sat quietly eating their breakfast, not bothering in the least by the awkward silence. Daniel occasionally glanced at his brother as Harry simultaneously ate his breakfast and replied to the letters.

"One more of those glances and you'll get a new look, brat. Black eyes."

Daniel's back stiffened and he whipped his head away from his brother fearfully. How had Harry known? He hadn't even glanced at Daniel.

"Stop calling me brat," Daniel scowled, eyes intent on avoiding his brother's. "I do have a name, you know."

"Like I give a damn." Daniel winced at his brother's tone. "If you can deem yourself worthy in my eyes, then I'll call you by your name. 'Till then, get used to how I talk to you, brat." Harry deliberately emphasized the word.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Daniel sulked, taking another bite of his breakfast.

"Figure it out yourself." Standing up, Harry snapped his finger. The plate and glasses hovered over to the sink and he cast a cleaning charm on the sink and stove. Smirking at the shining, spotless items, he shoved his hands in his pockets. As he exited the room, his letters followed behind, floating lazily through the air.

"Wait a minute, where are you going now?" Daniel called after his brother, standing up and discounting another sight of more wandless magic. "You haven't been home ever since summer started. You always go out early and come home late. Mind telling me what's going on? Dad and mum are worried." Daniel involuntarily stepped back as he was met with cold, emerald eyes.

"Why even bother asking? It's none of your concern." With that, Harry strode away from the kitchen and back to his room, perpetually pursued by his stack of papers. Slumping back into the chair, Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. What was that all about? He was only been telling Harry the truth. He never understood his brother, no one did. Well, except for those pretty girls he continuously hanging out with.

Wiping his sweaty brow on the sleeve of his training robes, Harry suavely flew to the ground. He was the last to land, watching as all of the other players went back to the locker room for a nice long shower. He had been last on purpose. He was sick of coping up with the other players. He intentionally showered after everyone else had finished in the locker room. After being here a week, he could now safely say he had gotten used to this kind of life. At the very least, it kept him away from the Potter mansion.

His problems, however, stemmed from his bullying teammates.

He was patient in tolerating the bullying, generally not paying it any mind. The reasoning behind his patience came from remembering all the nice things the Greengrass family had done for him and their inevitable disappointment if he ignited some trouble now. He didn't want to become a thorn in their side. They had even bought him a new Nimbus 2001, much faster than the old version. He had vehemently tried to decline the extravagant gift, but in the end, he was forced into accepting it. By now, the Greengrass family had their own ways of convincing him into accepting their gifts. He always felt the urge to beat the crap out of his bullies, but because of the kindness of the Greengrass', he had thus far managed to refrain from doing so.

The bullying wasn't that bad at first. They just locked his locker, or stole his things, seeing as they were not underage and could use magic freely. Harry dealt with it by unlocking his locker wandlessly and summoning his stolen items, though he did have to do it while no one was looking. At first their surprised looks amused him, however little by little their bullying tactics were getting out of hand, and this irritated him to no end. Immature, the whole lot of them. And yet, he still maintained his patient streak, dealing with it by using wandless magic.

Thus far he had been neither hurt, nor humiliated by their bullying. However, he knew that if this kept up, one of these days he would be. As he walked to the building, broom slung over his shoulder, his forehead creased at the crowd gathering around the notice board. He recalled that the list of this year's reserve players was to be posted today. Harry shrugged his shoulders indifferently. It wasn't like he was going to be on it. But once he joined the crowd, everyone grew silent as they stared at him. Harry didn't even bother to hide his scowl. What was up with these people? Scratching his head in confusion at their stares, he moved his eyes to the notice board. His eyes widened and he almost dropped his broom in astonishment.

He was on the reserve team! There, right there, three chasers had been selected, and his name was one of them! He was positive his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Harry Potter was the third and final chaser to be substituted in the real matches if a main player was unable to play. Staring down the horde of people, he freed the smirk tugging at his lips. "What's the matter? Has the news rendered you all speechless? How does it feel to be beaten by a kid? Isn't it funny how I've only been here for a week while the rest of you have been here for years?" He sneered directly at those players who had been bullying him for the past week. Smirking even more, he brushed past their stunned faces. He couldn't help it, revenge is just too sweet.

Harry sighed as he debated whether or not he should enter. Grunting, he decided he might as well just get on with it. He knocked on the door politely.

"Come in!" someone called after a while. Coach Deverill glanced up from a stack of papers, a scowl jotted across his face. He was wearing glasses, prompting Harry to assume the coach was having trouble in seeing the words. "What do you want, kid?" His gruff voice never changed. "Make it quick, I'm busy here!"

"It's the news about me being one of the reserve players." Harry quickly learned that it was far too easy to annoy the coach.

"What of it?" Deverill questioned grumpily, returning to the stack of papers.

Harry pursed his lips, scowling slightly. "Coach, I've been here for a week. A week and two days to be precise. It isn't right for me to be thrown onto the reserve team for all the important matches."

Deverill stopped what he was doing and slowly reverted his attention back to the boy, calmly dropping the papers and quill back onto his desk. "I would've thought you'd be jumping for joy at the news, kid." His sarcasm was noted.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, coach, but I was more shocked than overcome with happiness," Harry countered with the same sarcasm.

Deverill smirked in amusement, removing his glasses. "What's the problem, kid? All the other players see this as an opportunity to rise to fame and boost their career in terms of professional Quidditch."

"It's not that, coach." Harry's scowl deepened and he glowered at the man. "The only reason I'm here is to repay a family that has treated me kindly for many years. Not for fame, or any other rubbish like that."

Deverill's right eyebrow rose upon hearing that. "Well, it would seem that obtaining fame is second nature to you, kid. You're already famous around here. But I understand what you're getting at. Gandalf was kind enough to inform me of the full story concerning how he first met you and I hear the Greengrass family has been treating you well ever since you were eleven."

"So will you reconsider? I don't think I'm prepared to take such a major step yet. It's too much. I thought I would be trained and nothing more this summer."

"What you're saying is garbage, kid," Deverill spoke indifferently. "I may be the coach of Puddlemere United, but I didn't decide who got to be on the team and whose not. I'm just the same as all those trainers, giving you cowardly orders about what to do, planning the moves and all that. I just have higher rank than the others."

"What?" Harry asked, confused. "Then who chose the teams?"

"The majority of the staff did, along with the owner. You were voted in by all of us. You're on the reserve list because you incredibly outclass all those fools that have been training under me for years. As long as you beat the other players, then you're okay with us. Everyone agreed that you should be put on the reserve team and that's that. The decision can't be overrode."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," Deverill repeated, putting his glasses on and returning to the papers.

"B-bu-but, coach! Think about this! I'm-"

"Look, kid, I'm stressed enough with all these papers, the league, and all the shit I'm dealing with right now. You being here are just making me more stressed." Deverill kneaded his temples in a sign of frustration. "Kid, the moment you join our club, you become Puddlemere's. That means you're a player and have to be ready for whatever we throw at you. You're a professional now, kid. No more hesitation. That hesitation will be the downfall for you and us all. Do you see the badge you're holding at the moment?" Harry nodded his head, raising his right hand to show the Puddlemere emblem and his identification as one of the club's members. "That thing proves that you're one of us. We don't treat you as a student, or some immature brat, but as a member of Puddlemere United. Be proud of that and stand tall, kid."

Pulling his hat back, Harry ruffled his hair nervously. "This is all so new to me, coach. All I know is that before, I was a normal student who enjoyed doing nothing, just laying back and relaxing. But now, in the blink of an eye, I've been offered the opportunity to join Puddlemere and then thrown off into an important role on the team after being here for just a week."

"I understand, kid, but that's what makes life interesting, isn't it? Life surprises you in every way. It brings you joy, happiness, and sadness altogether," Deverill observed. "Listen, kid, just believe in yourself. Seeing you lose all that composure and coolness you have around all the time is just plain creepy. Be yourself and have faith in your abilities, you got that?"

"I guess..." Harry replied unsurely.

"Good. Now go prepare yourself for Puddlemere's first match against the Caerphilly Catapults on July fourth." Harry understood this as his signal to leave. "Kid... if it helps, I didn't have any intention of placing you in the matches just yet. No matter how good you are, you're young, the same as every kid your age. What I want you to do in those matches, just watch the flow of the game. That way, you can brace yourself for it in the future. To tell you the truth, the chance for a reserve player to play in the tournament matches is very slim." Harry sighed in relief, once again making for the door. "But..."

Harry halted in his exit to turn and faced the coach. "There is a chance that I'll substitute you for one of the main players, so it'd be best to just prepare yourself. You never know what the future holds, kid." Harry nodded his head solemnly. "Good. Now get out of here. You're just giving me more headaches. If this is the kind of treatment I get for meeting you, then it'd be best for you not to come to me again unless I summon you." Harry smirked. "Watch it, kid. I'll let loose all the bludgers on you in the next training if you're not careful." Deverill was the one smirking now as the kid rushed out of his office, face ashen.

"Sometimes it's very hard not to like that kid..." Deverill muttered to himself, shaking his head and looking over the papers once more.