Chapter 7

There was a large cheer from the Quidditch field and a faint groan of discontent. The end of a turbulent game was being conducted in the field. All of the students and staff members had come by to watch, as the match would decide who was worthy of winning the Quidditch cup for the season.

"Harry Potter scores again, making it his twentieth goal..." The commentary position was filled in by Lee Jordan, as usual. However, his generally uncontainable spirit appeared slightly diminished. "Ravenclaw leads 220 to 140… The Gryffindors out there are getting crushed, people. Harry Potter looks unbeatable right now. He just scored six times in a row, stealing every chance for the Gryffindors to score - bloody troublesome, that guy."

"Jordan!"

"Professor, do you see our team is being flattened out there, all because of that stupid-"

"I'm warning you, Jordan!"

"Alright, alright... But, uh... Professor?"

"Jordan, are you having a conversation or performing your duty?"

"Yes, Professor, but, uh... why is your flag blue with the emblem 'HP'? Aren't Gryffindors red? Shouldn't it be a 'G' instead of 'HP'? Hey, doesn't 'HP' stand for Harry-"

"Jordan! Get back on commentary!" McGonagall interrupted in embarrassment, her face was a nice shade of red. True enough, McGonagall was waving a small blue flag in her right hand.

"Yes, well! We're back on the game!" His eyes bugged out at the score. "Bloody hell! 250 to 150, what are you Gryffindors doing out there! Oy, Weasleys! Are you two slacking off? Knock Potter out!" McGonagall was thunderstruck at the tone, and for once, didn't bother to reproach Jordan. "If you can't defeat him, get the bloody snitch! Don't be so incompetent!"

Mounting his broom back to the defensive position, Harry smirked at the scores. Jeffery Barkain, the captain of Ravenclaw, nodded his head in acceptance of Harry's performance. Harry signaled him across the distance, indicating he could go for the snitch. Corroborating the signal, Jeffery nodded his head again in agreement and whooshed off to locate the snitch.

The Ravenclaws' style had been consistently simple in each game. Barkain's job was to distract the opposing team's seeker as long as he could, allowing Harry to launch his relentless assaults until the opposing team didn't stand a chance of catching up to the score. Harry's specialty was stealing and fast attacks. The match had only been going on for roughly thirty minutes, yet the Gryffindors were already squashed. Sheila's face was flushed in anger as she glared at Harry furiously. Seeing the glare Sheila dispatched to him, Harry's smirk expanded. Teasingly, he blew a kiss to the girl, furthering her anger. With steam coming out of her ears and her nostrils, she let out a loud, aggravated shout and darted by Wood to snatch the Quaffle.

"Alright, this time around, distract Johnson and Spinet while I handle Sheila. Let them get near our keeper and draw them in, that's when we strike them. If this works, we'll steal the ball and score again," Harry commanded.

Shannon Aiden, a Ravenclaw chaser, bobbed her head.

"Why should we listen to you, Potter? You're not our captain." Unfortunately, that year, the honor of the last chaser went to Roger.

"Shut up, Davies! You're so annoying. I don't know why we put up with your whining all the time," Shannon defended Harry vehemently. "Harry has more experience than both of us. You're lucky you're decent enough to be a chaser. Do as he says or you'll be hearing from our captain later on. You can save your complaint for Professor Flitwick later."

Roger grumbled in defeat, sending an icy glare to Harry. Harry rolled his eyes at this. Roger's looks aren't so intimidating.

"Alright, get to your position," Harry ordered, noting that Roger followed his direction. "Aiden, aid Davies while you can. I don't think he has the skill to deal Spinnet. Oh, and good job out there, you were brilliant, Aiden..." Said girl blushed intensely at the praise from the appealing guy and skillfully moved to Johnson. A devilish smirk curled on his lips as that'll make her more resolute than ever. Switching his eyes upfront, he saw Sheila rushing to the keeper stand at a breakneck speed. Two of her teammates were by her side, each displaying identical expressions to Sheila's. Playfully, Harry flew to Sheila's side, matching her speed and smirking at her.

"Don't look so smug, Potter! This isn't the end," Sheila barked, bumping him with her body just enough to lose him. Harry merely switched to her other side, flying upside-down above Sheila and boasting his talent. His fans cheered him on. Sheila gnashed her teeth irritably at this, clutching the Quaffle tightly.

"Come on Sheila, just give me the Quaffle and let us win this."

"In your dreams, Potter! Let's see if you can keep up with me!" Abruptly, she dived downward, not slowing her broom's current speed, taking a huge risk. Just as she almost touched the ground, she pulled back and accelerated her broom more. There was a cheer from Gryffindor but it died down instantly. Fluttering her eyes, she looked to her left side. There, the smirking face of Harry was flying by her side. He was waving at her, too.

"Give up?" She steered her broom to her left hastily, assaulting Harry with her body. She managed to deter him, but only by haltering his flying slightly.

"You're forgetting something, Sheila. My body is much stronger than yours and you're much smaller than me."

"You think, Potter?" Sheila threw the Quaffle up in the air with all her might. "Alicia!"

Her eyes widened as her teammate was marked by Roger.

She lost him with ease but as Alicia reached for it, nearly grasping it, Shannon lunged for the Quaffle. Sheila cursed under her breath. Harry, seeing the opportunity, detached himself from Sheila and extended his hand in the air for a pass. Not wasting time, Shannon flew first, evading Angelica along the way and tossing it accurately to Harry. Gripping the broom in one hand, his other grabbed the Quaffle. As it was in his palm, he kicked off his broom to top speed. In a great rush of excitement, Harry pumped his adrenaline and sped up to Wood. The fierce wind attacking him didn't affect his grasp on the Quaffle. Only one hand was steering the broom while the other was holding the Quaffle in the air.

Harry liked this, the ferocity of the wind, the feeling he underwent as the adrenaline rushed through his muscles.

He even smiled to the crowd as he passed the stands, causing the crowd to cheer loudly. The loudest cheer in Quidditch history resonated through the field. The crowd was in awe and admiration at the performance he had given them. He knew he was showing off, but he couldn't help it. He was in bliss of exhilaration, and no one can stop him. Sensing someone was on the verge of reaching out for the Quaffle, Harry, as fast as he could, brought down the Quaffle, hugging it firmly. Peeking over his shoulder, he was stunned to see Sheila struggling to steal the Quaffle. One hand was holding down her broom and the other was stretching out in the direction of the Quaffle, grasping the air for it.

"Sheila! Don't be stupid! Stop it! You can't control this speed with just one hand! It's too much for you or anyone else! The broom is at its limit, you'll lose control of it and crash down! Just give up!"

"Speak for yourself!" Sheila retorted.

Just as Harry predicted, Sheila's broom started to sway violently in another direction, plummeting to the ground. Sheila, with a panicked expression, hung onto the broom for dear life. She was clasping the broom so hard, pushing it to another direction again and again, but it was useless. The broom was persistent on crashing to the ground with remarkable speed. The crowd was horror-struck, most people were on their feet, eyes glued to Sheila. Yelping as the ground approached faster, she closed her eyes fearfully. Another hand grabbed onto her own and she opened her eyes to see Harry, trying to halt her broom.

Closing in to the ground, Harry roared - no way was he going to be defeated. He successfully slowed Sheila's broom and pointed it toward the sky. Sheila was safe. However, as a result, he didn't have time to save himself and he fell to the ground with alarming speed. "This is going to hurt..." He mumbled to himself, sealing his eyes tightly. His broom collided to the ground and he was hurled from the broom and flung across the Quidditch pitch. His body slumped down to the ground, laying flatly while his eyes were staring at the sky. The crowd winced at the drop.

"Harry!" Sheila commanded her broom to him, absolutely concerned for him. Descending from her broom, she hurtled to his side, kneeling down. Her face filled with dread as she affirmed his eyes were closing. "Harry! Hey, wake up! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't listen to you! Wake up! I promise I won't do it again, I swear it!" She sobbed profusely, shaking his body.

"Yeah, you better." Seeing him staring at her with his usual half-lidded eyes, Sheila's face lit up. He groaned painfully and stirred himself into a sitting position. He grimaced when Sheila engulfed him with her fierce hug. "Restituo meus somes..."

"Did you say something, Harry?" Breaking the hug, Sheila stared at him inquisitively.

"Oh no, nothing..." Harry chirped, feeling his magic draining rapidly. His body restored back as if the collision hadn't occurred to him at all. He hadn't used any ancient spells today so it was safe to use one now. Every time he used those ancient spells, his magic drained, so he refrained from using them a lot unless it was necessary. Except the invisible thing, that didn't take much of his magic.

"Are you all right? I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, I'm fine," He nonchalantly soothed her, standing up. "It's okay, Sheila..."

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter! Are you all right?" Madam Hooch raced to him, hovering in the air on a broom, looking at them with those goggles she's always wearing.

Harry brushed all the dirt from his attire, staring dully at her. "Yes, I'm fine, ma' am. I'm one hundred percent alright."

"Are you sure, Harry? That was quite a fall."

"Absolutely. See, I can move around freely without cringing." Inspecting him more intimately, Madam Hooch nodded her head, validating his condition. She zoomed to where the staff was gathering to inform them of his state.

"You gave up the Quaffle for me?" Sheila questioned him, smiling. "Thank you, Harry..."

"I'm not too sure about that. Watch." Harry pointed his finger towards the goal stand. Sheila glanced at it. Wood was pretty occupied at the time, and was bewildered as to why both of their attentions were on him. That is, when he spotted a Quaffle out of nowhere, dropping down from the sky. He whisked his broom to protect the goal but was too late as it whooshed down through one of the hoops. "I calculated the angle before throwing it up above. No one noticed it because all of the attention was on you. I have to say that was pure luck."

Harry grinned as her face was burned red. Compressing her hands into tight fists, her eyes twitched in an annoying manner. Even though he saved her from that unfortunate accident, he still managed to score. That goal was counted since he released the Quaffle before went off to rescue her.

"Harry, is it okay for you to move around?" Regine bustled over to him, concern plastered across her features.

Daphne and Callista weren't far behind her, fussing over him as well. Sheila vanished off somewhere else, sulking off with his broom.

"Hey, hey, come on. Get off, off I say." Harry shrugged away their gestures tenderly, still in his Quidditch uniform. "For the hundredth time, I'm fine."

After the ceremony of bestowing the Ravenclaws another Quidditch cup, three girls sprinted to him in a flash. They continued to ask the same question over and over again. Harry even consented to allow them to check for injuries themselves, but being the bunch of unrelenting girls they were, they irritated Harry to no end. The Quidditch season was won by Ravenclaw as Jeffery caught the snitch a few minutes after the ill-fated incident. Professor Flitwick, with the largest grin ever, was ecstatic as soon as he received the cup from Madam Hooch. Jeffery had to lend the tiny Professor his aid in holding the cup in place as it swayed a bit when the Professor held it in the air.

"Potter!" Someone yelled out.

Harry shifted his awareness to the person. "Oh, captain, what's wrong?"

Jeffery was the only guy in Hogwarts aside from Professor Flitwick who Harry reserved respect for. He went as far as to call him captain every time he addressed him. Secretly, he looked up to the guy. Nonetheless, Harry never acknowledged it publicly, he kept it to himself. Jeffery was the only guy who socialized with Harry normally, without any hatred or petty envy in his eyes. He had given Harry pointers in becoming a good player in the last three years, as well.

Jogging to Harry, Jeffery smiled as he extended his hand. "Don't call me captain anymore, Potter. I'm done with school so the position will move onto someone else next year. Thank you for winning the cup. This is my last year, so I hope someday we'll meet again on the Quidditch field. I hope we'll get to play again on the same team too."

Politely nodding his head, Harry grasped Jeffery's hand and shook it firmly. "Perhaps Barkain. Time will tell us..."

"You'll take care of the team, right?"

"Sure, if you wish me to," Harry shrugged his shoulders casually. His eyes flashed mischievously and an idea materialized in his mind. "Does that mean I get to kick out Davies? That bastard is a pain in the arse..."

"Harry, please, your language!" Callista admonished behind him exasperatedly. "It's inappropriate."

Jeffery barked a laugh, clapping his hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's your decision, not mine. I have to admit, though, he is a bit prick. See you around, Potter. You're a great guy... Oh, and don't forget, there's a party tonight in the common room to celebrate our victory." Harry just bobbed his head, knitting his eyebrows together as he stared at the guy's retreating figure.

"Hey, um, girls? What does he mean by my decision next year?" he called out to them over his shoulder.

"Potter, sometimes you can be so hopeless…" Daphne flashed him one of her annoying smirks.

Harry huffed childishly at her.

"Oh, honestly, Harry, he meant you'll be the likely new captain of Ravenclaw's Quidditch team," Callista spoke softly.

"That's right, there's no one as skillful and suitable in piling the position, Harry..." Regine concurred. Harry pursed his lips, mulling over whether or not he was ready to shoulder the burden and abide to the responsibility.

"Harry..." a timid and cautious voice butted in. Harry spun around and looked in dread at the sight of his broom, broken to pieces in Sheila's hands. He extracted the remnants of his broom from her. The impact had affected the broom more than his life. Nibbling his bottom lip, he clenched his hands on the wood. This was one of the gifts he treasured most from the Greengrass adults. "I'm sorry... it's my fault..."

Looking up, he was met with a tearful Sheila, silently restraining her sobs. She looked guilty and devastated. Fortunately, only a few people remained in the Quidditch field. The three girls didn't know how to react. They knew how much the broom meant to Harry. Daphne didn't wish to yell at Sheila, considering what the girl was in for right now. Eyes slightly unfocused, Harry evoked the memory of what he saw in the Mirror of Erised. Reverting to reality, Harry smiled serenely. Uncharacteristically, he moved to Sheila, hugging her gently. They others were in shock, of course. Harry had never showed any affection toward them.

"It's okay," Harry placated, rubbing her stiff back. "It's just a broom. I'm just glad you're alright… I'll be sad if anything worse happens to you. It's fine, Sheila..."

The other girls smiled at his sincere tone while Sheila mumbled something incoherently, like it's her fault and she was stupid, sobbing non-stop. Removing himself from Sheila, he ruffled her short hair affectionately. He allowed the girls to comfort their friend since they were infinitely more experienced than him in that regard.

"Potter..." Daphne muttered, smiling a little. "I'm too arrogant to say that I'm proud of you so don't get any ideas."

Harry smirked, still holding his broken broom. "Never crossed my mind, Greengrass..."

"Callista and Regine will handle Sheila...There's someone who wants to see you right now."

"Oh, who?"

"Zip it and just follow me."

Harry heaved a sigh. "You enjoy ordering me around, don't you?"

"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about," Daphne clarified, though her smirk didn't go unnoticed. Harry grumbled and, akin to a sick puppy, trailed behind his master. She brought him to the back of the Quidditch field, far away from prying eyes. There was a tall man, dressed in expensive robes, and wearing glasses. He smiled joyfully when he caught sight of them.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, it is a great pleasure to meet you! A great pleasure indeed! I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come!" the man gleefully declared, frantically grabbing Harry's hand and shaking it furiously.

"Uh... yes, the pleasure is mine," Harry confusedly, yet politely replied.

"Potter, meet Peter Gandalf, and Mr. Gandalf, meet Harry Potter," Daphne introduced them to each other.

The man jumped when he came face to face with Daphne. He instantly bowed his head. "My apologies, Lady Greengrass! I wasn't aware of your presence."

"Don't call me lady. The honor goes to my mother. I am still fifteen years old, Mr. Gandalf," Daphne growled, folding her arms.

"Yes, yes, quite sorry, Ms. Greengrass."

Harry nudged his head toward Daphne, then at the man, thoroughly perplexed. "I'm sorry to interrupt but can anyone tell me what is going on here?"

"Oh, Mr. Potter, glad you're still here! I thought you had run off!" Gandalf exclaimed merrily, his eyes glimmering in exultation. "You're flying is marvelous! Marvelous, indeed! That dive in the last minute was spectacular, and don't get me started on how you score points! It's brilliant! Amazing! Fabulous!"

Harry backed away and took shelter behind Daphne. By now, the guy was creeping Harry out. "Is he sane?" he whispered to Daphne's ears surreptitiously.

Daphne actually giggled, suppressing it with the back of her hand. "No, Potter. He's just excited, that's all."

Gandalf discontinued his sentences once he realized he was frightening the young fella. "My apologies, Mr. Potter! Truly, my apologies! I did not mean to scare you!"

Harry scowled, stepping in front of Daphne. "I wasn't scared." The snicker behind him caused his scowl to deepen.

"That's good! Very good! In playing Quidditch, you have to rid yourself of any fear in you and be willing to risk everything to win the game! And you're just the kind of fella we're searching for, Mr. Potter!"

"Huh?" Now Harry was beyond confused.

"Perhaps a proper introduction would be in order, Mr. Gandalf," Daphne appended.

"Yes, yes, quite right, Ms. Greengrass." The man straightened his robe. "Mr. Potter. My name is Peter Gandalf, and I work for Puddlemere United, as well as being a major supporter for the team, in charge of the teams financing and a scout, searching for talented players across the British Wizarding World."

Harry's jaw dropped. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he spoke seriously. "What do you want me for?"

The man's eyes twinkled, dancing happily on the spot. "You are a talented player, Mr. Potter. Puddlemere United extends its greeting by offering you an opportunity to play for Puddlemere."

"W-w-what!" Harry stammered, shocked. "I'm still in school, I can't quit Hogwarts and join Puddlemere just like that! And holy shit, did you say Puddlemere? As in Puddlemere United? The Puddlemere United? This must be a dream!"

Daphne burst into a fit of small chuckles. "Don't let Callista hear you swear, Potter."

The man laughed out loud. "Mr. Potter, the British and Irish Quidditch league is being organized this summer, from July second until August fourth. Every year it holds the same time. If you decide to join us, then there are still some processions you need to go through. For instance, by signing you to our team, you will play with us, but you'll still have a long way to go if you wish to play in the main team."

"Main team? I play as a chaser and from what I saw of Puddlemere United in one of their games, the chasers were brilliant. I don't understand why I'm getting this kind of offer out of the blue."

"Well, yes, it appears you have connections to the owner of Puddlemere United. By your luck, Mr. Potter, he recommended you to me. He's never actually suggested a player to me for recruitment before, so if he says so, then it must be worthwhile and it would seem he was right!"

"I'm sorry, the owner?"

"I think you're acquainted with the person quite well," Gandalf's brown eyes glanced at Daphne. "After all, from what I hear, you and his elder daughter are very close. His wife also cares a great deal for you and you've known the family for years now, am I wrong? My eyes just confirmed that vital piece of information."

Harry whipped his head, rotating his body to Daphne. "Y-y-your father? Lord Greengrass?"

Daphne nodded her head, her eyes full of apology. "Yes, father owns Puddlemere United. He expressed his sincere forgiveness that he didn't faithfully attend any of your games. In return, he proposes to you a chance to play for Puddlemere. He tricked you, Potter, so that you can join Puddlemere."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry cried out in exasperation.

"I just thought it would be a nice surprise-"

"Not that!" Harry disrupted her sentence. "The part about your father owning Puddlemere! I could've asked you for an autograph from their captain in my first year!"

Daphne's eyes twitched annoyingly. "Potter, it's just a fucking Quidditch!"

"I know, I only say that to annoy you..." Harry smirked. "It's payback." Then, his eyes glazed. "But damn. I know Lord Greengrass is powerful and very wealthy, but never in my life would I have imagined he owns Puddlemere…"

"You should have noticed by how often he discusses Quidditch with you. He's a Quidditch maniac, only mother doesn't enjoy it as much as he does. Just to keep him company in those games, she escorted him from time to time."

"Just like someone I know," Harry murmured.

"Damn straight," Daphne grumbled, grinning at him.

Gandalf cleared his throat stridently. "Shall we get on to business?"

"Yes, I'm underage," Harry briskly spouted out.

"That may be, Mr. Potter, but in Quidditch, it's a matter of talent, not age. Did you know there was once a player, aged sixteen and playing for the Tutshill Tornados in 1962?"

"I don't know how the procedure goes. You know the contract stuff, checking and all that."

"Yes, Lord Greengrass predicted you might say something like that. He told me that if you accept it then he'll coordinate everything for you."

"But my broom is a wreck, you saw it during the game."

"I'm sure we can arrange something..." Gandalf vaguely spoke.

"But my skills are not that good."

"Mr. Potter-" The man began in a frustrated sigh. "Everything will be taken care of, I assure you. We are merely asking you to join us, not throwing you in the real games right away. If you desire to play in the upcoming league, you have to earn your spot. If that is so, you still need to earn a spot as a reserve player then move onto the main players. Trust me, players take years before becoming one of the main players. If you sign in, you'll only be given training during the summer and the trainers will be the judge of whether or not you are skillful enough to advance."

Harry dwelled on this, hesitant. "If I'm only given training in the summer, then after summer I can return back to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, it's very hard for a player to get hold of the position of reserve players, let alone becoming a main player. Put it this way, Mr. Potter. By training you, we are preparing you and at the same time increasing your skills in Quidditch."

"Potter, I think this is your chance to repay my parents..." Daphne asserted. "If you rise up, you'll make my father proud. Don't you want that? You never fail to remind me that you desperately desire to repay my parents so what are you waiting for? This is your chance, you'll start small."

Hearing that, Harry's face became grave, which scared the man a little. "I'll take it. If it is only training then I can deal with it. I won't have high hopes in becoming one of the main chasers but it's a start. What do I have to do?"

"Splendid!" The man's serious expression became jovial. "Not to worry, the contract is in Lord Greengrass's possession. What you need to do is meet him, which you eventually will, sign the contract and let him deal with the rest." Gandalf shook Harry's hand one last time rather excitedly. "Mr. Potter, if it were based on my opinion of you, I'd say you'll be one of the best players the Wizarding world has ever seen! I give you two weeks of training with us and I guarantee you'll have a position in the reserve players. If the coach takes you for granted, he'll let you play in the real match! This is where I depart, Mr. Potter. I am eager to witness you climb to fame and bring Puddlemere to the top. Someday, people will know your name."

"Does he have a second personality or something?" Harry enquired as the man apparated from the school grounds.

"I'm beginning to wonder that myself, Potter." Eyeing him, she wrinkled her nose cutely. "Get your bloody arse to the shower room and clean yourself. Now, Potter."

Harry grumbled, marching in the direction of the locker room. "Yeah, she enjoys ordering me around."

"For the second time of the day, Potter, I haven't got the faintest idea what you're talking about..." Daphne smirked, trailing behind him.

8 June 1992.

Today was when the feast was to commence. In the Great Hall, it was festooned in Ravenclaw's fashion to celebrate their winning the house cup for the sixth year in a row. It was crammed with students voicing their endless conversations loudly. Harry was no different arguing with Callista over some minor things in their customary banter. She split up with her best friends to find Harry. Of course, as usual, she caught him flirting on some fifth year Hufflepuffs just then. It annoyed her to no end. Pulling him by the ear, she hauled him from the girls and to the Great Hall, saving the girls' faces from blushing profusely.

He protested all the way about it, justifying how embarrassing and painful it was. He didn't waste time to quarrel with her after they took their seat. Nevertheless, when Harry's little brother stepped in the great Hall, all hushed. Daniel bustled his way to his friends, slipping into a seat between them. The Great Hall was once again filled with voices and people standing up to look at him. Harry snorted, thinking how pitiful they were. One day they hated him and the next, they admired him. Perhaps people are truthfully as stupid as he suspected, letting fame get to their heads. Callista provided him comfort, smiling softly at him. He returned the gesture back, smiling a little.

Fortuitously, the gibberish dwindled away when Dumbledore arrive moments later. Harry plopped his head on one hand, a bored expression on his face. He felt his world was slowly descending to darkness. In a word, he was on the brink of sleeping. Only when Callista pinched him under the table did he fully awake. He glared at the pretty girl next to him. In response, she smiled in gullible manner. The part where the headmaster mentioned the house cup grabbed everyone's attention.

"Now, as you are aware, the house cup needs awarding. We have in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and fifteen points; in third place, Hufflepuff, three hundred and fifty-two points; in second place, Slytherin, four hundred and eighty-five points and in the first place, we have Ravenclaw, five hundred and fifteen points!"

What the staff of other houses expected was a storm of cheering to break out at the Ravenclaw's table, not claps full of politeness and sarcasm. Professor Flitwick was bewildered that his house wasn't cheering like every other year. He wasn't the only one. That night, he had convinced his housemates that the headmaster would pull something out of his sleeve. It took him a full hour to persuade them that they wouldn't win the house cup. With the recent events, the headmaster would likely bestow the trio points.

Alone, he was hopeless to influence all of them, seeing how the males of the house envied him, but with the assistance of Callista and the former captain, it worked out brilliantly. So as to not embarrass them, Harry suggested they just clap their hands politely and not act barbaric. He added that he didn't want to sullen the house name which drove everyone to believe his words more. Of course, that was just a ploy but still, he didn't wish to humiliate the house's reputation.

"Yes, congratulations to Ravenclaws." Dumbledore waited for the cheering, but there was none. "Yes... recent events must be taken into account."

Flitwick now knew what his house was getting at in an instant. He was torn between anger for the headmaster and pride for his house's brilliance.

Most Ravenclaws nodded their head in gratitude to Harry. "I award sixty points to Mr. Weasley for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in my years." There was Percy the perfect err... Prefect, bragging about his brother.

Simply, half of the occupants cheered for this as now the Slytherins comprehended where this was leading to. "Next, I award sixty points to Ms. Granger for the use of cool logic in the face of fire."

The Hufflepuffs unsurely clapped their hands as the Gryffindors cheered. "To Mr. Potter...the younger Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award him seventy points."

Now, most of the students were getting suspicious as the points were tied between the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. "Lastly, to Mr. Longbottom, I hereby award him ten points for his bravery. There are all kinds of courage-"

After that, his speech was tuned out by most students as they now knew the headmaster was favoring Gryffindors, especially his Golden boy. Harry procured a grin of success. No offence to Dumbledore, but he's clearly favoring his brother and Harry can't let the headmaster's personal feelings get in the way of winning the house cup. At the Slytherin table, Daphne grinned at him and winked at his plan. At the Hufflepuff table, Regine was chuckling quietly to herself at Harry's success. At Gryffindor, Sheila shook her head in revulsion as her housemates exploded with cheers. She grinned in her seat when she caught Harry's gaze, giving him a thumbs up.

"So it's accomplished?" Callista whispered, smiling roguishly.

"Oh no, not yet. There's the finale."

"Really, what?" It's not frequent Callista was eager to break rules and disrespect Professors.

"Just wait and see..." Harry's eyes gleamed gleefully.

Harry waited tolerantly. The three houses weren't clapping anymore, half of the Hufflepuffs still were, however. The cheers erupting from the Gryffindors table was so strident. As Dumbledore clapped his hands together and the hanging of the Ravenclaws changed, Harry straightened his back. Taking out his wand while all of the attention was on the Gryffindors, Harry cast some charm in the direction of one of the Weasley pranks. They were hidden from prying eyes, placed in a notice-me-not charm but Harry detected it. He was using a wand because Callista was watching him closely.

He cast a charm to it more seeing that whatever the prank was about to burst uncontrollably from its place. He charmed it to explode in a dangerous way and the fire to strike the students in a creative way without hurting them. Harry prepared himself, concealing his wand under his sleeve. No offense to the twins, as much as they amused Harry, he required this part as his final plan. All of the sudden, there were shrieks from the first years combined with an explosion of fire. Harry's eyes widened, this was a bit too much. Whatever prank the Weasley twins set up was entirely lethal.

Before anyone could react, Harry smoothly sprinted to the Hufflepuff table as the fire was aiming there. He abandoned his plan as he went off to rescue the students. Whisking his wand, he erected a shield of his own. "Protego!" The large fire flatly pressed his shield but most of it bounded to another direction. There were shrieks of fear. The fire he was restraining had lessened, and so he risked himself as he cancelled his shield, allowing the fire to slaughter him. But before the fire could touch him, he cast "Aguamenti!" in the direction of the other fire that was wild, protecting the Hufflepuffs and a few of the Ravenclaws. As a result of water and fire blending, there were steams surrounding the Great Hall, turning it to fog.

The Professors were on their feet, exterminating the steam that was blinding everyone's sights. There was still screaming and screeching from the students. As the steam gradually ebbed away, there were still remnants of fire on Harry's robe. Though Harry's robe was on the ground while the person was nowhere to be seen. As the steam fully disappeared, there, in the middle of the Hufflepuff table, Harry Potter was shielding two Hufflepuff first years. He sighed in relief, lucky to have evaded the fire in time and used his robe as its prey. Perhaps he ought to reconsider his plans next time. That was reckless, even more reckless than the Gryffindors.

Feeling guilty, he moved his interest to two of the first years that he was sheltering from the fire. "Are you both okay?" He was even strong enough to carry them from their seats. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott nodded their heads frenetically, blushing copiously as they realized the position they were in, completely forgetting the incident a moment ago. It was as if he was hugging them and he had very strong muscles.

The four house heads and the headmaster rushed to them while the other staff members were attempting to calm the students. "Harry, Harry! Are you alright?" Flitwick fussed over his favorite student, glancing every angle of him with amazing speed.

The room by now had gone silent, their attention now on Harry. Harry tittered nervously. "Yes, Professor but I think these two are quite shaken up. Professor Sprout if you would...?" He handed both first years to their house head. Even though they were taken away by Sprout, their eyes locked onto Harry. He laughed uneasily at their eyes, scratching the back of his head.

"Mr. Potter, are you certain you're alright?" McGonagall questioned, worried as well. "Madam Pomfrey should take a look at you."

Harry waved both of his hands. "No, no, I'm truly alright." He smiled reassuringly.

"Mr. Potter, I agree with Professor McGonagall and I insist!" Pomfrey appeared out of nowhere at his left side. "First, you refuse to go to the infirmary after that awful crash you had and now you refuse again after getting attacked by fire! Honestly, Mr. Potter, this is for your own good!"

"No, Madam Pomfrey, I truly am fine. I used my robe and threw it over the fire, allowing it to slaughter my robe instead of me." Madam Pomfrey, still unsatisfied, cast a diagnosis charm on Harry. She grumbled when there wasn't the slightest damage on his body. Here, she thought she could drag the boy to the infirmary and run a full check on his body with her hands intimately. Curse her luck!

"It would seem, Potter, you are fast to react. Pray tell, how is it you could possibly move so quickly to defend the students?" Snape glared at the boy. "It's as if you knew the attack was coming this whole time. I have suspicions that you set this up, Potter! In accordance to your rescue, you can boast your heroics by doing so!"

"Professor Snape if I were to do that, I could execute much more than this, with more of flair and theatrics, after all I am James Potter's son. But this was no ordinary set up, as you can see it was an accident." Harry hated saying who his father was but he had no choice. Snape bristled at this. His hatred for the boy intensified and he was fuming in rage.

"Well done, Harry. For you to act so quickly, not only did you save a few students but you saved us all," Dumbledore said, smiling. His eyes were twinkling. "That remarkable bravery is something a Gryffindor could envy of you."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry countered it with the same cheerfulness as Dumbledore was.

"Yes, well, a brilliant job, Harry..." Dumbledore chirped, his eyes twinkling full blast.

"I think Mr. Potter deserve points!" Professor Sinistra shouted out from the staff table where she sat on her seat calmly, smirking. "Don't you all agree?"

"I agree!" Professor Sprout declared, appearing beside McGonagall. "Risking his life for the safety of my house when he doesn't even belong to Hufflepuff at all! That is not something I would let slip away! Don't you agree, Minerva?"

"Yes, Professor Sprout is right," McGonagall announced without any hesitation. The Gryffindor table was agitated to hear this from their own house head!

"Professor, I don't think-" Harry halted his sentence as she wasn't listening to him.

"Modest to the very end... I could've sworn he'd be in Gryffindor," McGonagall muttered to herself, loudly enough for people near her to hear. "And that bravery and rashness... Oh, Gryffindor indeed..."

"Minerva! For the last time, he's in my house! Just give up already!" Flitwick roared.

"Oh, hush Flitwick!" McGonagall cleared her throat, reverting to her professional manner. "Now as I was saying-"

"Minerva, I don't think it would be wise to award points at this time of hour," Dumbledore reasoned, cutting McGonagall off. "As we all are aware that Professors are not allowed to take points and award them at the end of the feast. As none of you ever took the duty to award points concerning the recent events, I took the liberty myself using my position of the headmaster."

The Gryffindors cheered slightly at this. Though it died away when McGonagall smirked. "Very well, then! Due to my position as the deputy headmistress, which I have an obligation to fulfill, I cannot allow this to go away. And so, I award eighty points to Harry Potter for his quick thinking, handling the situation excellently, the use of a seventh year spell, his modesty, bravery and his successful attempts to save the students when the staff failed to do so!"

There was silence and all eyes were on the giant hourglass. The silence was eerie. As the Ravenclaws rushed to the lead, three houses erupted with cheer. The noise was deafening, so loud that it seemed it could reach to Hogsmeade! Ravenclaw could celebrate now, not caring about their house reputation any longer. They had now won the house cup for the sixth time in a row and fourth, it was all thanks to their star. The Hufflepuffs sounded the second biggest cheer as Harry had risked his life to save them and applied his own body to cover two of their housemates from the fire.

Slytherins rooted for Harry at this as well. They didn't mind as long as Gryffindor didn't get the cup. Those who were true Slytherins -unlike the Malfoys and their goons- discerned Harry's intention and gave him respect as he was without a doubt ambitious and very sly. Most upper years from Slytherin stood up from their seats and clapped their hands, advocating Harry. The Gryffindor table was a mix of expressions. Those who were too intent on acquiring the house cup were dead-struck. A quarter of the Gryffindors, run by Sheila, applauded for Harry.

"HARRY! HARRY! HARRY!" There were people yelling eagerly, and before anyone knew it, they were chanting Harry's name. The biggest table of fans was Ravenclaw. Many and if not most people banged their goblets on the table. Harry, not having foreseen this, felt the blush rising up his neck. There were squeals from the girls at how cute he was, mixed with people chanting his name. Never had they witnessed Harry blush in their entire time at Hogwarts. They supposed even Harry Potter does have the grace to be out of character and have feelings.

Snape was forcing a horrible smile and Dumbledore was speechless, thunderstruck. How was he suppose to deny this? He shook his head, smiling a little and he clapped his hands, joining the crowds. He supposed he's to be blame. Harry had just manipulated the Professor into awarding him points. Very cunning, indeed. The smile on his face grew more. The elder Potter had just beaten him in his own game.

"I believe a change of decorations is in place!" McGonagall smiled widely. She didn't mind that her house could not obtain the house cup anymore. Her voice was drowned out by the students still chanting Harry's name. "Professor Flitwick, I think the honor goes to you."

"My pleasure, Professor McGonagall!" Flitwick giddily took his wand out. Swishing it up and down, the banner altered back to Ravenclaw. This time the noise increased more as the storm of applause around them was joined by the staff. It was thunderous. Harry, still blushing, deduced that life is full of surprises.

You never know what life brings you...

14 June 1992.

"Is Rosy asleep?" questioned James. Lily nodded her head absently. She played with her food, ignoring the majority of her husband's words. They were having dinner by themselves, a rare occurrence in their household. James sighed deeply, placing his hand on his wife's arm and squeezing it tenderly. "Lily, I'm really worried about you. You haven't been acting yourself lately. Is there something wrong? ...Did I do something? Tell me if I did."

Lily smiled slightly, returning his gesture affectionately. "No, it's not you James. It's me... I did something terrible to someone and now I desperately want to make it up to them… to him…"

James furrowed his eyebrow in repulsion. "Don't tell me it's Snape?"

Lily laughed heartily at this. "Oh, James, how many times do I have to tell you? You hold the key to my heart, not anyone else. I can't believe you're still jealous of any males approaching me! It's not that. Severus has been far from my mind, actually..."

"Then what is it?" he whispered kindly.

"I think you should realize it yourself, like I did," she murmured. Looking up at his mystify face, she shook her head. "It's nothing, love. Let's just go to bed early. But first, I need to clean the dishes. Can you clean the broom cupboard for me? Just arrange those brooms properly. I didn't have time to work on it."

"Sure. Anything you want, my flower," James stood up and immediately hopped to it, always the model husband.

"Without a wand, James!" Lily shouted from the table, picking up the plates all the while.

James had to whine at that, "But it will take too much time!" He heard Lily chuckle slightly and he grinned at the small success.

Sauntering to the storage room, he opened the door and found the brooms scrappily sprawling across the floor, causing him to grumble in annoyance. Yeah, this was going to take a while. There were maybe a dozen brooms or more in there. Whenever people gathered at the mansion, they held a Quidditch game of their own for entertainment in the mansion's field. Every broom they used was a Nimbus 2000. James gathered every broom older than the Nimbus 2000, throwing the worn ones away. This would take a long time, indeed.

He sighed loudly and entered the room to assemble each broom in its proper place. Dust flew out of the storage room as grumbles, curses, and sneezes disrupted the relative quiet of the dark space. Minutes passed, until finally James exhaled loudly in exhaustion as he placed the final brooms in an orderly row. He grinned, feeling proud of himself. He was never comfortable doing things the Muggle way. Nevertheless, many years with Lily had forced him to. Oh, he was still complaining about how troublesome it was.

James was about to exit when something inside obstructed his exit. Twirling around slowly, he squinted his eyes, rubbing his glasses to get a better view. The deeper he ventured, the darker the room grew. As he fumbled to the back of the storage room, he was surprised to find another broom, small enough for a five to seven year old to ride on. The broom was enveloped by heavy dust and entangled in a silky spider web. Picking it up, James brought the old broom outside to get a better view. He brushed all the soot off the broom on his way out, coughing in the process.

He was shocked to find a Cleansweep One. He thought he'd tossed all of the older brooms. Pondering the appearance of this strange broom, a crease in his forehead, he recalled that he had never purchased a Cleansweep One. In any case, this one was too small for him or any other person to ride on. Perhaps Rosy might fit, but Lily would kill him before she allowed that to happen. Lily had made it abundantly clear that she didn't want her baby riding a broom until she was old enough. So why? Why did he buy this broom? More importantly, for whom? There was something nagging at the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it.

A strange abnormal sound of bell-like echoed...

31 July 1979.

In the Potter mansion, three occupants celebrated someone's birthday. Though it was a time of war and fear across the British Wizarding World, it didn't hinder two adults from celebrating their son's birthday. Harry was enthusiastic about his birthday, so they prepared this celebration mainly for him, savoring their family moments while they lasted. As expected from Harry, he became even more excited when Lily made him a chocolate cake, grinning widely.

Lily rolled her eyes, smiling at her son as he grinned at the large chocolate cake on the table, clapping his hands cheerfully. Both adults smiled knowingly as they watched their son light up in happiness. They were baffled as to how he cheered so easily, but his smile shrugged off their worries concerning the war going on around them. Harry never did mind having just his parents to celebrate his birthday with. As long as they were there, he was fine. Wide eyes, Lily leapt to her feet as her son stood up on the chair and prepared to jump on the cake. Catching his small body just in time, she held her son firmly in his seat, chiding him softly.

He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, showing immense dissatisfaction. Shaking her head, she brought him to her lap, partly to keep an eye on him and partly because she enjoyed hugging his warm body closed to hers. Harry pouted more cutely at this, huffing in his mommy's lap. James grinned at his son, his thoughts far away from the war, solely concentrating on his son. He ruffled his son's hair and exclaimed that they were going to cut the cake. At that, Harry was no longer mad at his mommy and he cheered his father on. It made both parents smile for the second time that day at his typical mood swings. They shook their heads, feeling both overwhelmed and amazed at their son.

After the birthday party, which lasted twenty minutes, James cradled Harry in his arms, telling Lily he'd spend time with his son while she washed the dishes. Lily accepted this and advised James that for his own sake, he'd better hope no harm come to her baby. Swallowing audibly, James chuckled nervously. He watched his wife carefully to confirm she was busy with something else. As soon as she was, he carried his son outside, to the back of the mansion.

"Harry, Daddy has a present for you," James whispered.

"Really? Another present for Harry! Yay!" James clamped his hand gently over his son's mouth, peering nervously around them. He feared his wife may appear suddenly out of nowhere. "Yes, but Harry needs to keep quiet, okay?"

"Why?" Harry was all innocence, still a naïve three-year-old boy.

"Um..." James was clueless as to what reason should he give the boy. Harry had Lily's brain, so it wouldn't be easy to fool him, even at his very young age. "Harry, just be quiet, okay? Harry doesn't want to upset daddy, right?"

Harry nodded his head rapidly. Placing Harry gently on the ground, James whipped his wand out. On his toes, he checked for his wife, but she was nowhere in sight. He summoned Harry's present. Grinning, he handed the package to Harry. Eyes glittered in curiosity and glee, Harry tore the package open at once and stared in awe at the broom in his small, delicate hands.

"Do you know what this is, Harry?" James asked gently, kneeling down to his son's height.

"Harry knows! This is a Cleansweep One! First broom built for racing in 1926! Harry read it in one of his books!" James's mouth hung open in admiration, forgetting that his son was producing plenty of noises.

"James! What's all that racket! Did I hear a broom just then?" Rising up, James quickly began to pace, panic written all over his face. Lily materialized all of a sudden in front of him, wiping her wet hands on an apron. "James, what's that all about?" Her tone was low and vicious.

James felt a surge of denial course through his body as he waved both of his hands defensively. "N-nothing, Lily flower, nothing at all!"

"Then where is my son?" Lily asked in a low voice, glaring her husband.

"He was right here!" He pointed to his side.

Lily looked all around them. "Where, James!" He glanced to his side and his son was nowhere.

"Mommy! Daddy!" They followed the voice and were shocked to see their son grinning and waving giddily at them with one hand. That wasn't what alarmed them. It was the fact that he was on a broom, soaring from such great height. He was three years old, for Merlin's sake!

"James Potter, get my son down from there this instant!" Lily shrieked, terror plastered across her face.

Before James could answer, Harry whooshed down to them, flying circles around the two and giggling all the while. James didn't know how to react. His son was a natural flier. Harry then greeted his mommy cheerfully, facing her as he flew upside-down. Lily broke from her shock, instantly grabbed her son and hugged him tightly, fretting over him. The broom dropped to the ground yet Harry was still giggling in exhilaration, wanting more of it. James assumed he'd get in trouble with his wife later, but for now he didn't care. A large grin spread over his face and he knew it had been worth it. His brilliant son was a natural flier.

14 June 1992.

Reverting back to reality, James's sight blurred, and not from his glasses. No, it was the heavy tears forming in both of his eyes. They trickled down his cheeks, unstoppable no matter how hard he tried to dry them. His hands clenched the broom, gripping it tightly. Oh, Merlin, how could he forget Harry? What kind of father was he? Had fame gotten to his head more than he realized?

He had believed he'd discarded that arrogance of his a long time ago, but evidently he was wrong. It was sickening. And this was the consequence of his arrogance, his own pride and joy no longer associated with him. He was disgusted with himself at that moment. Why hadn't he realized it, all this time? By now, he was chocking back sobs, crying silently on the floor as he dropped his knees to the ground. Damn, had he really forgotten Harry?

A pair of arms wrapped around him, embracing him lovingly from behind. James ignored the touch as he continued to cry quietly. He knew without looking that it was Lily.

"What have we done, James? What have we done to Harry?" she murmured, tears dripping down from her own emerald eyes.

"I don't know... I really don't…" he mumbled thickly, removing his glasses to wipe these tears that insisted on falling.