Chapter 10

True to Harry's words, the next day was indeed a fucked up day. All across the British Wizarding World, the early morning was in an uproar. People, who were drowsy, fully awaken once they laid their eyes on the newspaper. Just as the people perusing the newspaper, they got one of the most bombshell news of their lives. Most of the Daily Prophet's paper was covered and littered with titles on Harry Potter. There were images of him, details and articles regarding him. Quibbler was no different as it was fully packed about Harry Potter.

HARRY POTTER, BROTHER TO THE BOY-WHO-LIVED BRINGS PUDDLEMERE UNITED TO THE FINAL!

THE YOUNGEST QUIDDITCH PLAYER EVER RECORDED IN THE HISTORY!

UNEXPECTED QUIDDITCH PERFORMANCE FROM A FOURTEEN YEAR OLD BOY!

And, the articles from various writers harped on and on…

They specified more often than not on how Harry intervened in the game and altered it upside down, how Harry was the sole reason why Puddlemere won the game that night, how he sacrificed his arm for victory, full description of the matches, etc. That day it was the talk of Harry Potter in the British Wizarding World, children, teenagers and adults, all alike. People who were not fascinated and enamored by Quidditch, even conversed about an extraordinary feet of a fourteen year old boy, whom was so young, but now playing for Puddlemere United, a professional Quidditch team. It was that day everyone recognized the name Harry Potter. The boy's fame spread like a wildfire at such fast rate in just one day.

In Diagon Alley, those who knew Harry Potter as little Harry were astonished to spot the image of the boy they once knew in a newspaper, the same adorable little boy that scurried around and doing many errands for the sellers in Diagon Alley. They were astounded because he was playing Quidditch in the professional level, however, the shock didn't equal to the last one when they realized his last name was actually Potter, it merely escalated the feeling to a further extent. This was something that swept them off their feet, completely bowled over by the news.

Because of that piece of news, some forgot to put an 'Open' sign in their own shop windows as they zoned off about their little Harry. And that day, people were bewildered as to why most shops in Diagon Alley were closed and to that day was where businesses weren't really successful. Even the famous Leaky Cauldron was shut as both landlord and landlady of the place were too consumed on their thoughts concerning little Harry. Thankfully, the situations were solved once they shook out of their daze and properly opened their shops, though it was reported on noon at that time of the day.

Minerva McGonagall, along with a few of her colleagues, was having a peaceful breakfast in the Great Hall.

Additionally, Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout were there as well. Most of the staff vacated Hogwarts during summer, taking care of their 'stuff'. It was one of these days that McGonagall wasn't too stressed in dealing with troublesome students. No roguish students were around in Hogwarts during the summer. She didn't have to erect her best stern expression all the time. She was sipping her black coffee serenely, awfully relaxed. The arrival of Dumbledore and the headmaster occupied his customary seat next to her, she didn't heed it. The sound of owls flocking their wings, shipping the newspapers to them, she disregarded it. Sniffing the aroma of coffee in the morning, she allowed a tiny smile worked its way to her lips, a smile that normal people fail to spot, even if they try their best to see it.

She transferred her attention to the newspaper that was in Dumbledore's hands. Mildly slurping her coffee, her eyes wandered the headline, absently marveling what nonsense propaganda Daily Prophet wrote this time. Validating the title, she bobbed her head calmly. Closing her eyes fully, she continued to drink her coffee with the tiny smile was still there. In such a slow pace, her brain processed and processed yet again. It clicked to her in an abrupt fashion. Opening her eyes instantaneously, she swiftly inspected the headline again. Eyes popped, she spewed out all of her coffee on Dumbledore's face, tainting the headmaster's white robe, white hat and white beard with black. Her favorite precious student was on Daily Prophet!

A motion picture of him getting thrown into the air again and again by the crowd was on the front page.

Totally missing the sour look from Dumbledore, she snatched her own copy of Daily Prophet and scanned the article thoroughly. She didn't bother to wipe her mouth with a napkin and her mouth dribbled with black coffee. This was the first time that Daily Prophet ever captured the full attention of one Minerva McGonagall. Swiping the paper to the next page, there was her favorite pupil again. This time, it was an image of him flying on a broom, executing such an extreme flight. She flipped to the next page, and there was another article about Harry. The articles on the subject of Harry Potter concluded on page eight. With a snail's pace, she lowered the newspaper from her face and simply gazed upfront, eyes glazed.

McGonagall was in a trance for the longest time of her life, not caring someone had to witness her in such state. This expression was mirrored by the rest of her colleagues when they read the paper except for the headmaster. Fortunately, they hadn't drank or eaten something as they read the paper. Snape had entered the Great Hall to partake breakfast. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the staff. After grunting and scoffing, he billowed his cloak loosely and silkily slithered his way to his usual seat, next to Dumbledore. Scowling in distaste at the unprofessionalism of his colleagues, he sipped his own coffee. By accident, his black beady eyes glided to the newspaper in front of Dumbledore. And suffice to say, that day was where Dumbledore would regret having to dress in all white clothes. It was one of those times in his life that he was stressed at the image of the leader of light.

Moreover, the leader of light had his own personal grudge to anything that's associated with black coffee, classifying it as his new nemesis.

Sirius Black groaned at the hangover he was suffering at the moment. He didn't remember much about what had happened the night before. All he ever recalled was having a wonderful time with some lovely girl. As he squinted his eyes, he looked around, coming across himself in the Grimmauld master bedroom. Vaguely, his memory recollected of Remus bringing him home last night and dragging him to bed. He shook his head to clear the hangover. It only worsened the headache. He wobbly rose to his feet, and commanded his legs to walk, intending to join Mooney downstairs.

He knew where that Werewolf was at that particular moment. He was having breakfast like usual. The two of them had been living in Grimmauld Place for many years. He convinced Remus to live with him in Grimmauld just so they can be close with the Potters and one of it was he didn't like living alone in his childhood home. Initially, the Werewolf refused the offer, but yielded to his friend's efforts on wishing for him to stay in the British Wizarding World. Remus was reluctant on leaving his friends behind anyway, so that's probably one of the major reasons why he chose to stay.

"Mooney..." Sirius whined, lugging his feet down the stairs, holding the railings to keep him steady. "Where are you? I got a major headache here. Help me, would you?"

Remus sighed from the kitchen at the sight of his friend. He was about to read the newspaper from Daily Prophet, but held back since Sirius barged in. Understanding this, he went to make tea for Sirius to lessen that hangover of his. If he requested Kreature to do it, the elf just cursed him and ignored his order. That elf was useless around Grimmauld. The only time he obeyed was when Sirius gave him a stern firm command.

"Padfoot, how many times I have to tell you? That is what happens when you get a hangover, drinking too many Firewhiskey. Just stop while you're ahead. Instead of taking your job as an Auror seriously, you fooled around with some girl… How professional of you."

Sirius grumbled, taking a seat and dropped his forehead on the table. "Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture, would you?"

Remus put a cup of tea next to Sirius. Peeking one eye at the cup, Sirius straightened his back, sitting upright. Taking the handler of the cup, he slurped the tea hastily. He yelped when it burned his tongue. He loosened his grasp on the cup and it crashed down. The content sprawled on the table. He glared at his old friend in front of him who was reaching out for the newspaper. His tongue was red and hot. Remus just rolled his eyes.

"Tea is supposed to be hot, Padfoot. You're not careful enough."

Sirius glared, but pitifully moaned some more given that how his headache hadn't minimized one bit. Shaking his head, Remus flipped the newspaper, opening it to read the front page. His half-lidded eyes gradually broadened as he followed every word of it. His eyes bugged out when his eyes dipped down to the image. He unconsciously gaped at seeing this, not believing it, though the truth laid in front of his eyes. He was speechless, no sound emitted from his mouth. Sirius looked up, his chin was on the table. He scrunched his forehead at the expression of his best mate. Calling out his name a few times didn't catch the man's attention, and he decided to just seize the newspaper, wondering what could cause Remus to be like that. He chuckled slightly, envisaging Daniel was on the front page. But that wasn't much of surprise, was it?

Though, once he laid his gaze on the paper, his own face matched to Remus's. He shook his head violently, thinking he was imagining things and the hangover surely had to be the reason of it. When the title, the motion picture and the article of the newspaper is still the same, the paper simply dropped on the table. His godson, Harry Potter was on the news but that's not all, he was playing for Puddlemere! The Puddlemere United! A wave of guilt coursed to his body. He never did treat Harry right all this years. His attention was always on Daniel and Harry was supposed to be his godson. Looking at the newspaper again, he nodded his head resolutely. He was determined to make up to Harry. His hangover by now had fully vanished.

The boy, who was responsible to the chaos ensued all over the British Wizarding World, was peacefully snoozing in his bed.

Softly snoring, his whole form was engulfed by a thick blanket. There was no sight of him, not counting his left arm hanging outside of the bed. The party the night before resulted with him coming home at a very late hour. Following Harry's return to the Potter mansion the previous night, he didn't waste time to go to his room. If it weren't for most of his teammates insisting on him to remain and celebrate with them, he would have gone home straight after fixing his left arm with the healer. He just had to go through the party out of politeness. Of course, his blissful sleep was typically disrupted by a small figure. Since Harry was too exhausted to even bother locking his door last night, a small raven haired girl entered his room with no difficulty.

The girl cutely scowled at her brother for still sleeping at this time of hour.

It became a routine for her to wake him every day during the summer. She knew her bigger brother was very busy during the summer, and it felt as if she was obligated to wake him from his slumber. She didn't mind much, seeing it as an opportunity to spend time with her bigger brother more. He never played with her, not even once, unlike her other big brother, but she understood her bigger brother, Harry. He's just busy, that's all. The other was she identified her bigger brother as a type of a person that didn't enjoy playing around with some dolls. For the very least, he always bought her dolls after another year of Hogwarts and also, he took every opportunity to spend time with her whenever he had some free time.

"Hawwy! Wakey!" She pouted, that was irresistibly endearing and lovable, when the figure didn't show any kind of response. Holding onto the two flowers in one hand, her other hand extended to the front to tug his left arm.

"Rosaline, go away... Five more minutes…" Harry grumbled sleepily, reclaiming his arm.

She huffed at this and settled on with the same schedule. She clambered easily to his bed. She scowled yet again when her brother hadn't wake up from her action. Settling on for the alternate option, she began to jump up and down on his bed, more like on his body. She was, at first, desiring to rouse her brother up with such technique, but then the joy rushed to her. She giggled happily, squealing gleefully. Her objective was far forgotten as the enjoyment clouded her mind.

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" Harry groaned drowsily, surfacing from the sheet. His hair was a complete mess. He yawned widely, stretching his arms lazily. "Now, get off me and get out of my room. You're making my room smelly right now." Harry pretended to grimace, pinching his nose securely.

Rosaline, for her case, was quaking in anger. "Rosy is not a troll!" Her face was covered with the color of red.

"I didn't say anything about a troll." Harry smirked, no longer asleep. "So you admit you're a troll, Rosaline?"

"NO! Rosy is not!"

Seeing his brother's smirk lengthened, she screamed angrily and lunged forward to her brother, pouncing his chest with her tiny arms repetitively. Nonetheless, Harry proved to be stronger as he subdued his baby sister effortlessly with just one arm, laughing heartily at her fruitless attempts. Her anger melted, staring curiously at his brother. She beamed at this. She didn't know how he cleansed the anger out of her with just his laughter, but she was happy to witness her slightly cold brother laughing. It warmed her heart. Harry, little by little, stopped laughing.

"All right, you had your fun. Now, get out. I need to prepare the day ahead of me." She nodded her head perkily, ready to dash out of his room, although not before handing Harry one single flower. Harry took it, gazing confusedly at his baby sister. "What's this for?"

"Happy Burthday, Hawwy!" Harry had nearly mistaken the word 'Burthday' as 'Buttday'. Thankfully, he was in the right state of mind. The little girl kissed her brother's right cheek sloppily. "This is Rosy present!" She held another single flower in front of Harry, showing it to him. "This is for Danny!"

Harry was stunned and didn't get the chance to say anything. Before Harry could utter a word, his baby sister scurried out of his room, shrieking gleefully. Placing his left hand on his right cheek on where his sister kissed him, he looked down at the small flower in his right hand. Evidently, the flower came from the back of the Potter mansion. His sister must have plucked it from the garden. Raising the flower up, he twirled the flower slightly in between his fingers. Not much of a gift, but he greatly appreciated his sister effort.

He looked up, and that was when he noticed the many gifts on his desk. Flapping his eyes in mild shock, he attended to it. It felt like Christmas had approached again. He wondered how all of these presents landed in his room without alerting anyone in the mansion. There were two notes amongst all of the presents. He picked two of them and read the first parchment. After a few seconds, he grumbled in annoyance, burning the parchment to ashes casually. He should have known the old man was the instigator on all of this. He didn't dare question the old man on how in the world he managed all of this. It just increased the annoyance he was presently in if he did so.

In the first parchment, the old man congratulated him of his recent achievements and wished him a very happy birthday. He even drew an emoticon in it and it was magnificently very well drawn. Not to mention, the drawing was in motion to which it got on Harry's nerves. Still, he couldn't resist the small smile on his lips. The very least, years of living didn't affect the old man's memory. After that, he averted his full attention to the next parchment. Instantly, a surge of happiness streamed throughout his body. He didn't try to repress the smile on his lips this time. The smile that coiled on his lips was wide and his face lightened up. It was from the girls, saying the gifts are from them and a few from their families. Now this, he should have known. He looked outside through the window, drifting off to space.

He didn't care if it was fated or coincidence for him to encounter the girls, because right here and now he realized he couldn't survive the world without them by his side. He blinked his eyes one time and then the second time, realization punched him. Eyes widening dramatically, he hastened to the bathroom. "Shit! I'm fucking late! The coach is going to have my head as a trophy when he finds out!" was one explanation as to the reason why he acted in such a way. Even though they won last night, Deverill made it clear to his players that all must attend the training session on the next day, in preparation for the final game. Considering Harry overslept, he was so going to be punished for this.

Lily Potter was clueless in what was happening around the British Wizarding World.

She busied herself in the kitchen to make some breakfast. She made it extra large just to be sure. She knew it was her son's birthday so the Weasleys might swing by to celebrate it. She gradually ceased in stirring the cooking pot once she realized it was actually her sons' birthday, not one but two sons. She sealed her eyes tightly, repressing the tears from coming out of her eyes. She was pathetic. All she had ever done this summer was shedding tears after another memory of Harry plunged to her mind. She tried talking to Harry, but he was never home. He would leave in the early morning and then would come home late. She didn't get a chance to talk to him, and the same goes for James. What's more he was avoiding them purposely.

He offered a fake smile when he bumped into one of them and hastily created some silly reason just to stay away from them. He didn't even let them do the talking before he just swiftly went to the fireplace or vanished from their sight. Lily figured he's uncomfortable in their presence. Her heart tightened painfully at the mere thought of it. No children had ever felt uncomfortable with their mother before. She would continue ignoring her surroundings if it weren't for James stepping in the kitchen. "Lily!" She snapped at the sound of her name. James sprinted over to her, lending her his aid frantically. Casting a charm first on the stove, he held Lily, hands on her shoulders. He maneuvered her away from the stove onto a chair for her to take a seat.

"What's wrong, Lily? Are you feeling well?" James kneeled in front of her and his hand patted comfortingly over hers.

"Did you know today is Harry's birthday as well?" Instead of answering him, she questioned him.

He averted his eyes from his wife, no longer amusing himself with her hands. "Yeah, I'm quite aware of that this morning."

Out of the blue, Lily chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm a horrible mother... You know that, right, James? I'm really a horrible mother."

"No, you're not, Lily..."

"Oh come on, James," she barked, arguing him fiercely. "What kind of mother forgets her own children especially her first son, huh? Tell me, James? What kind of mother is that? I always thought Harry was my life. I always thought of him as my world, that he was the source of my happiness, that he was the only thing that mattered to me. Everything in this mansion revolved around Harry once. Back then, I never let him out of sight, not even once. But now, look around us, he isn't here with us anymore. He's been taking care himself all this time. How in Merlin's name he does that, I don't know. All I know, he's not close to me, he's a stranger to me and he's been pushing me away even though I try to enter his life, even when I try to get to know him once more, he's just... I- I..." she choked her words, powerless to carry on. In its place, it swapped to sobs.

James rose up and hugged his distraught wife, soothing her. "Shh... We'll discuss this later, okay? The Weasleys are here right now so it's best to not let them see you sad. It will spoil the mood. I promise Harry will come around. If he doesn't, then we'll just do our hardest to get him to. I'm sure we can think of something." He rubbed the back of his wife, reassuring her gently.

Lily detached herself from James, wiping her tears, sobbing slightly. "Y-you're right… We just have to try our hardest..."

James smiled slightly, pecking her lips affectionately. "That's right. People won't call us a stubborn couple if we don't. We won't give up on Harry."

"Yes, we won't." She calmed herself, taking a huge breath.

"Good, then let's just get on with the day and hopefully Harry will stay at home." James smiled, planting another kiss on her lips. She deepened the kiss, inserting her tongue slightly. Breaking it, she continued on with the cooking, leaving her unsatisfied husband behind. James watched Lily, his eyes saddened for a moment at the thought of Harry, however, he steeled himself professionally. He couldn't alter the past, but he could move on. He, then, exited the kitchen and went to the living room to greet the visitors.

In the Potter mansion, it was packed with people bustling around the place. All gathered in the living room, conversing and doing other things with each other. Hermione even came to the mansion for the first time to celebrate Daniel's birthday. The first thing she talked with Daniel about was how fascinating the fireplace was and how it worked. If it weren't for Ron, she would persist on with her ranting about different kinds of things that were related to magic. The kids were grouping together somewhere in the room including Percy without much of a choice, and in the meantime, the adults were having their own conversations. Well, James was trying to entertain the adults, talking about various insignificant things.

All of this was interrupted by a sound as fire lit up from the fireplace. The flame of a vivid green blared, followed by the voice of Sirius appearing from it. Inwardly, James sighed, having to talk with the Weasley adults long enough and he nearly ran out of ideas of what to say to them. He rushed to the fireplace to greet his best mate. They chatted a bit through the fireplace. James, then, invited Sirius to the Potter Mansion, along with his other best mate, Remus. They flooed to the mansion, and two men were immediately assaulted by Daniel and Rosaline.

Sirius barked a laugh at this. "Easy squirts, you two are getting bigger by the day." Rosaline cheered happily at this, while Daniel scowled a bit at how his uncle addressed him. Squirt is the same as brat, doesn't it? By that, it reminded him of his brother calling him that moniker. To Daniel, it's infuriating. Sirius steered two Potters to Remus, allowing them to acknowledge their other uncle.

Directly, he proceeded to James, asking excitedly, "So where's the champ? Have you seen him around?"

James was puzzled at this, wondering who. "Um… Come again, Sirius. Who are you talking about? All of the sudden too…"

"You know who I mean, James. I'm talking about Pup!" Given that James still didn't catch this, Sirius sighed. And they say he was the slow one among the Marauders. "Harry! I'm talking about Harry, James."

"Harry?" James trailed his line, flabbergasted Sirius brought him up.

He didn't get much chance to quench his surprise. "What do you want with him?" Ron blurted out, his tone sounded rather repulsed. All eyes trained on him and he shifted uncomfortably on his seat at the attention.

"What do you want with Harry, Sirius?" This time a new voice surfaced in the living room. Lily walked to her husband's side, stunned as well that Sirius brought her elder son up. Usually, he came to the mansion just for two of her younger children.

"You two didn't know?" Remus interjected, now confused and mildly shocked.

"Know what?" pressed James.

"Merlin, you two really didn't know?" Sirius exclaimed. He eyed all the people around him. "All of you?"

"Sirius Black, just get to the point!" Molly snapped, irritated with the suspense.

"Didn't all of you read the Dailey Prophet this morning?" said Sirius.

Molly shook her head, sending a disapproving glance toward him. "The Daily Prophet only writes a bunch of lies, nonsense all of them. They never wrote the truth and so it's rubbish to read the paper every day. Don't tell me you believe every word of the paper?"

"Well, to us, it's definitely real. There is no way they're going to write something big as this, just for lies. People in Diagon Alley have been talking about it non-stop! It's the talk of the day!" Sirius answered. "Remus and I also confirmed the truth from many people who had actually been there and saw it for real, not fake. Right, Remus? And hey, did you all know many shops closed in Diagon Alley today? I wonder what's wrong with that."

Remus nodded his head solemnly, holding Rosaline in his arms. "I would've thought, James, that you and Lily would know of this from the very beginning. I- I guess not."

"Molly, be quiet!" Lily snapped at Molly who was about to open her mouth yet again, her anger already rising up. The older woman was appalled and shocked at being told to be silent. "Tell me what this is about and end this silly delay right now or else you both will have a taste on my hexes! I'm sure you two remember that quite fondly."

Two men swallowed audibly at this, knowing how the conclusion of the day was once Lily's temper unleashed and it never ended well. "I think everything will make sense if you people just read Daily Prophet," Remus spoke up bravely.

Dropping Rosaline to the ground gently, Remus summoned the newspaper. He tapped his wand on the paper and it duplicated itself into many. He levitated it and handed each of the paper to the people. He was even considerate enough to let the kids know of the news excluding Rosaline. She may be a bright girl, but she was still incapable of reading anything yet. There was peculiar silence from them as both men surveyed their expression on the news. The silence fractured when Lily's breath hitched and the paper on her hands slipped out of her grasp, her eyes were large as a saucer.

"Bloody hell, he's playing-"

"-for Puddlemere United!"

"That means he's now-"

"-A Quidditch superstar!"

Both Weasley twins looked at each other with wide eyes, before a huge grin elicited from their lips. "Wicked!" Truth to be told, they don't have any ill-feelings with Harry, more like they admired him. Even they have to admit, they were nowhere near the guy's level. He's not only talented in roughly anything, but he also managed to surround himself with four beautiful girls. To think they both were constantly chasing after Sheila like most of the Gryffindors, struggling to get near her at the first chance they got when Harry was already close to her more than they imagine it.

Percy was glowering heatedly at the picture in front of the Daily Prophet. No matter how hard he tried, this guy bested him in every direction and now the guy is beyond his reach. Beside him is his younger brother, Ron. His jaw was hanging wide open and eyes nearly popped out of his skull. His eyes sparkled dangerously in pure jealousy. He was in denial that the guy he loathed is now a famous Quidditch superstar. Next to Ron is Hermione who wasn't much surprised of the news since she found Quidditch next to being nothing.

Conversely, she was impressed because this signified Harry as more of a celebrity now. Currently, she focused herself on his image rather in short distance, blushing how good he looked in a Puddlemere uniform and by the looks of it, he grew more attractive than the last time she saw him. Ginny, the youngest Weasley, was now torn on whom to like. The guy in Dailey Prophet is the boy-who-lived's brother and he was more like a prince, a very dashing prince that a little of his features can consider to be femininely beautiful. On the other hand, she's been so caught up with stories about the boy-who-lived since she was little. She didn't know who to choose.

Daniel, for his part, was shocked, but not so much. He suspected his brother was up to something this summer, but he never had the idea of his brother playing for a professional Quidditch team crossed his mind. Rosaline was beside him, cheering at the image of Harry. She pointed her finger at the picture giddily, shrieking her brother's name, notifying the people Harry was on the paper. Of course, people knew that already. That's just how kids react when they discovered the person they love is on the news.

"Dear lord, playing Quidditch for a professional team at such young age?" Arthur Weasley breathed, his eyes swiftly scanned the paper. "He must be good in broom and brilliant in Quidditch."

"You have no idea, Dad," Fred muttered, reading the paper.

"Yeah, he's very skillful. In our time as beaters, we never landed a single bludger on him! Can you all believe that? Never! Not even once! If we concentrated on attacking him throughout the whole game, he just used it as his advantage!" said George, doing the same thing as his twin brother. "There's no loophole on the guy. He's the reason why Wood pushed us in training."

"I agree, dear brother of mine. He's just too good for us," Fred assented.

"You couldn't say it better than I do, oh, twin brother of mine."

"Sirius, is this for real?" James shouted. Truly, he was astounded as much as his wife was.

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. "You see it with your own eyes, James. It's true, all right. Yeah, your expression is the same as mine was when I first read it."

Harry was scurrying his legs to the direction of the fireplace, clearly unmindful of the event occurring in the mansion or around the whole British Wizarding world. All he cared about was being at the training field before Deverill arrived first. Luckily, he didn't forget his own Puddlemere badge. He was buttoning his shirt up in such a rush manner. His custom brown coat was dangling on his right forearm and his Ascot hat was tucked inside one of his jeans' back pockets. Releasing an aggravated sigh that he unable to fasten up the two buttons of his shirt, he abandoned it, ignorant to how girls were affected by this kind of appearance. He reached for his hat and then placed his coat around his body.

He scampered to the living room, absently wondering why he didn't encounter any of the occupants in the mansion along the way.

Still adjusting his coat properly, he entered the living room. As he turned to the corner, he abruptly froze in his steps. Both of his eyebrows shot up at how many people were inside the room. Pressing his lips together tightly, he scowled slightly as eyes were on him. It was making him enormously uncomfortable. The silence was awkward and not a single person uttered a word. The silence was ruined when Rosaline, oblivious to all of it, scampered to greet him. She was calling out for his attention and when she succeeded, she showed him the newspaper. She had stolen the paper from Daniel and dashed to Harry. She cheered at this, giddily pointing her finger on the paper.

Now, Harry knew why he was the cause of the silence. Unconsciously, he sighed stressfully at the fact that he had to cope with all of them to get to the fireplace. He smiled a little to his sister as she broke into cheering, running circles around him. She was so cute. Nonetheless, he didn't have time for all of this. Stopping his sister in the middle of it, he just muttered to her that he was in a hurry and that he would see her later. Ignoring everything, he hastened past all of them.

Lily broke out of her haze. "Harry!" He nearly groaned. He's so not in the mood for this. "Why didn't you tell us anything about this?" She gestured her words to the front page of Daily Prophet.

He clicked his tongue from saying something impetuous. Confronting them, he smiled convincingly. "I thought it would be nice for a surprise." A slight sarcasm was noted. He put his hat on and regulated his dark brown coat.

Before she responded to his answer, she was cut off. "I can't believe you're making decision without consenting this to any of us. You're too young to participate in something like this! What are you thinking, young man? This is unacceptable!"

Harry's eyes twitched, irritation built up as he didn't want to face this today. What is she, his mother? If Harry transcript her true meaning, it would be like why didn't he asked her permission? This is why he disliked the woman, more like a plump domineering wench. She presumed that she had the right to tell people what to do or not, simply placing authority over anyone.

"A little teenage rebellion sometimes is a nice change and the fact that I've been making decisions for myself ever since I was a child does explain the whole thing. I've gotten used to being independent, Mrs. Weasley, and that is why I forgot to asked your permission-" He coughed deliberately. "I mean the adults' permission, which whom all have been wonderful to me in these past years and had done a very good job on taking care of me. You know how habit is? It's hard to tone it down once a person get used to it. Though enlighten me a moment here as to why I have to ask yours since you have nothing to do with me whatsoever. Don't tell me you want to control over me? Of course not, that would be silly," he spoke mordantly, smirking. His voice was full of innocence. His words made a huge impact on the adults. He cheerfully brightened after that. "Well, don't let me spoil on whatever you're all doing." In his mind, he already did spoil the mood, but that was his intention from the beginning. "I'm late for something anyway. Farewell for today and have a pleasant day to you all."

The glittering powder was on his right hand. He grabbed it while not one of them noticed. His movements were too fast for them. Sneakily, he threw the powder to the fireplace. When he cried out of his destination, he caught everyone's interest once more. At this, Lily tried to talk to him but didn't get the opportunity as he walked to the green flames, pretending that he didn't heard someone yelling out his name. However, it was hard for him to not hear it since so many people were shouting out his name. The Potter adults, Sirius and Remus stared at the fireplace as did everyone.

"So when are we going to eat? I'm hungry," said Ron.

2 August 1992.

The thunderous sound from the crowds, Harry discarded it. He was tapping his right foot patiently, sitting on the bench along with the other reserve players. He didn't mind much, spending his time on the bench throughout the rest of the game. He blew a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his silky raven hair. Okay, perhaps he did mind. He wondered all day why the Coach didn't just put him on the match. He already proved that he was excellent in Quidditch, and considering he scored almost eighty points in the previous game, he should be out there.

He didn't have any desire to steal Brien Carras' spot as one of the main chasers, and he truly wouldn't mind if the guy played against Ballycastle Bats instead of him. Carras did have experience on his side and he deserved it more than Harry, but at the moment, Puddlemere was losing the game. From what Harry could tell throughout the game, their seeker was much better than Williams. The seeker managed to almost snatch the snitch three times already, and they might have won the game if it not for Maxwell Montmerry and Katy Fonger, Puddlemere's beaters, in ensuring the seeker didn't reach the snitch in time.

The Bats' chasers aren't that good but hell, the Bat's star beater, Finbar Quigley, was one heck of a beater. He was defending the goal posts from the Puddlemere's chasers like a madman and his accuracy was good too, very good. Even Harry had to flinch when the bludger sent by Quigley striked Wadcock in the face. Man, Quigley sure put the Magpies' beaters to shame. The Bat's other beater was merely an extra player and supporting Quigley if it was necessary. He was letting Quigley do all the assaults, and Harry thought the man made the right decision.

The match now had gone for an hour and twenty minutes. The score is 430-370 with Ballycastle Bats in the front. All that is because of Quigley. He attacked Puddlemere's players, at the same time protecting his team chasers and the goal posts. That was amazing coming from a single person. They're going to lose this game if the Coach didn't make the decision to place Harry in the game. The only way they could win this tournament was by leading two hundred points or so. Williams won't get the snitch for sure, not against their seeker. Harry was certain the coach knew that by now.

"Kid!" His thoughts shattered at the voice. Well, speak of the devil.

Harry stood up and marched towards the coach, ignoring the annoyance of the nickname he attained from the man. "What is it, coach?"

Deverill stared the boy for a long time, grumbling. "You're up, go and get ready..."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at that simple comment, nevertheless, he checked his gear and went to get his broom.

Deverill signaled the referee from far away for substitution. There's a bang from the referee's wand, indicating for the exchange players and a few minutes of time out. Seeing this, Carras flew down to where the rest of Puddlemere were. There's no dejection, anger or insulted feeling written on his face. He knew Harry was more of an excellent player than he was. He was not offended to say the least. The only thing he hoped was that the kid would bring them to victory. As he passed Harry, he patted the kid's right shoulder, telling him to win the game. Harry nodded his head with determination on his face. Now facing the coach, Harry was ready to enter the game, verifying his gear one last time.

"Ready, kid?" Deverill asked.

"Yes." Just one word was all that was needed.

Deverill bobbed his head. "I'm going to cut some slack here on giving you a speech to encourage your spirit, kid. I'm convinced you're not nervous like the last time... You know how much this means to me and to the team if we win the game."

"Yes," Harry muttered, hopping on to his broom.

"Good and that's all you need to hear from me..." Harry prepared to join his teammates on the sky. "Oh and one more thing, kid." Harry looked at the coach from over his shoulder, silently imploring him to go on. "You're not alone on the pitch, remember that." Unsure of what it meant, he slowly nodded his head. "Don't worry about it. You're a brilliant kid so I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough."

"If you say so." At that, he accelerated his broom and up into the sky, hearing the crowds roar for him. The cheer was wild. They had been quite disappointed that he didn't participate from the start of the match since most came to watch him play. The game was not exciting without Harry on the pitch.

Wadcock, with a bluish bruise on his face from the earlier bludger, nodded his head firmly to Harry's direction, his face was solemn. "Glad you could join us, mate, and now let's crush them."

Harry smirked. "Oh, I intend to."

Griffiths joined them. She was cringing slightly at the pain she was in. "Beware of their star beater, Harry. It's him you should be concerned about and not the others. Stay alert of any bludgers coming from him. Trust me, you do not want to be hit by it."

"Sure, I'll be careful," said Harry, not entirely listening. The smirk was still on his face. If only Harry knew that Quigley was saving half of his energy for Harry, and now the man was marking him as his new prey, eyes glinting dangerously.

Harry swerved his broom violently, nearly getting hit by the bludger as he cursed under his breath. Fifteen minutes had passed now and Harry was struggling to score. He was only able to score one hoop ever since he entered the game. It was Quigley marking him like he was some kind of disease that was required to be brought down. Damn, that guy! He's causing Harry to have difficulty in moving freely around the pitch without furious bludgers from out of nowhere, came pelting towards him.

For Harry, it was not that hard to steal the Quaffle and evade the chasers, however, it was the bludgers that were his main concern. When the first time the Quaffle was in his possession, he was caught off guard by the sudden assault. It nearly blew his head off! Fortunately, he ducked his head as fast as he could before the bludger splintered his head to pieces. That moment was where Harry realized that Quigley was saving most of his energy for him. Harry was in all honesty flattered at the attention of the famous Quidditch player, if it weren't for Quigley striving to kill him for real! What's wrong with him? He did well on their last match so why not this time! Is it because he had the element of surprise in the last time he played? Is that it? And this time, his opponents are more than prepared for his attacks?

Intercepting the opposing chaser's pass, Harry jerked his broom up the notch and zoomed to the sky, narrowly missing the bludger. His jaws tightened. Quigley smirked at him, sending a massive second wave of bludgers. Harry avoided the first but sadly, the second one smashed his right shoulder, making him lose his balance of the broom and the Quaffle. He hissed in pain, desperate to subdue the agonizing pain he was in. The crack was evident. He glared at the beater angrily wherein Quigley responded by flinging a furious bludger to Harry's direction. Straight away, he commanded his broom to join his teammates in defensive position, stretching his right shoulder repetitively. He had to grimace ever so slightly.

"Harry, are you all right?" questioned Griffiths, worried.

"Yeah, a bit stiff on my right shoulder but I can still play normally," Harry muttered. If he used one of the ancient spells, the restoration body spell, it would just put him in the same category to a cheater, and so he would have to endure the pain until the game end.

"We're sorry we couldn't protect you, Potter," Montmerry said sincerely, swishing his broom to him. Fonger trailed behind the man, hanging her head in shame. It was supposed to be their job to protect their own chasers from the bludgers. The thing is they're not doing their job well.

"It's not both of your faults. It's him. H- He's just too damn good," Harry asserted, growling. He stretched his right arm one last time. "I can't believe any beater would throw bludgers like that. It's not normal. It could kill us."

"Well, that's Quigley, mate. What do you expect from someone who basically built for a beater?" Wadcock butted their conversation, his face was serious. "He knew the right moment to strike and properly how to use the bludgers."

"What are you lazy cowards doing up there! Where the hell is my defense?" Deverill bellowed. "Go stop them from scoring!"

Man, the coach sure knows how to shout. The crowd is nothing compared to his voice. Harry broke off from his musings as one of the Bat's chasers scored another hoop. The crowds groaned and hollered at the Puddlemere's players for their mistakes. Harry cursed loudly for not concentrating on the game, punching irately at nothing but air.

"We have to focus on the game!" Wadcock snarled, using his superior tone on all of them.

"But what about Quigley? What do we do with him?" Fonger spoke.

"I don't know! All I know is that we need to score some points! If not, Williams won't be able to delay their seeker for much longer! Now, get to your positions!"

Unsurely, they obeyed their captain. Harry grumbled for not much of a plan. Puddlemere was going to get their ass kicked today. Taking a huge breath, Harry eyed the Quaffle. He accelerated his broom to the maximum and just like a snake slinked its way, he flawlessly stole the Quaffle. He out-flew the chasers and charged to the goal posts without slowing down the broom's current speed. He was determined to score no matter what it took. He heard the crowds cried out his name in support, his teammates called out for him to wait for them, but his sight was too centered on earning some points that he discounted every bit of it.

Deverill watched from below, arms intersecting together over his chest. His left hand fingers were drumming his right elbow. His eyebrows furrowed in gravity. "Come' on, kid... Pass it… Pass the darn Quaffle to your teammates, kid…" he mumbled to no one in particular. "We're not going to win this game if you play individually. That's your biggest weak point. You're too dependent on yourself and over confident of your ability… Your mistake is that you think you're all alone in terms of everything when everyone you know is supporting behind your back and look up to you."

Back to Harry, he was closing in on the goal post. He skidded his broom to an abrupt halt when a bludger rushed past him, and he looked to his side, expecting it was Quigley but to his horror, it was not. It was the extra beater. He was smirking at him as he waved one hand, meaning to say a goodbye to Harry. Bewildered by this but didn't get a chance to think once a strong powerful hard object demolished his head. At that, Harry loosened his grip on the broom and just permitted his body to descend down the ground, dragging the Quaffle with him. It was Harry's luck that he was not flying from a high height. His eyes looked up at the sky in disbelief, completely forgetting the pain. There was no denying the wetness on the back of his head was no ordinary water, rather, his own blood.

With a steady pace, his vision blackened. The last thing he heard was so many people shouting out his name and the gasps of the crowds.

'Harry...You need to wake up, my child. The game isn't over yet. There is still hope if you enter it again.' That voice. It sounded familiar. Where did he hear that from, again? 'I can answer that for you, my child.' The sound of the tone was amused. 'Now, have you forgotten me? I am very much wounded that you do not recognize my own voice. After all, I have taken care of you since you were just a small little boy. Do not tell me you have completely forgotten of me?'

Harry's eyes snapped open in annoyance at that really familiar voice! It's that old man messing with his head. Waking up in an instant, he sat upright. He gritted his teeth, irritated of the voice in his head. He fluttered his eyes rapidly when he was greeted with many people looking at him in stagger, all hushed. He scowled at the attention. "What are you all looking at?"

"Mr. Potter!" Gandalf was shocked to see the boy was conscious. They just brought him to the changing room to fix his head and the team's healer clearly affirmed that he wouldn't be conscious for a day or so. The healer did also mention the bludger hit his head really hard. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, why I wouldn't be?" asked Harry, frustrated. Then, just like a tons of bricks dropped to his head, the memory hit him. "Oh..."

At this, many of his teammates shook out of their stupor and hastened to him, asking the same question as Gandalf was. "QUIET!" All piped down at the stern voice. Deverill shoved his players roughly to face the kid, slight concern. "Kid, are you quite sure you're all right? It's not that hard to miss you getting hit by the bludger especially on the head."

"Yes, I'm fine," Harry grumbled, bringing his feet out of the bed to sit properly. His hand shot to the back of his head, distinguished it had been wrapped in a tight small bandage. Despite it was healed by magic, the healer used the bandage so that it won't affect the healing process of his injury. He stood up. "Let's get on with the game. You all are wasting your time on worrying me."

Everyone was stunned at that attitude. Surely, getting hit by the bludger affected his confidence. The kid is full of surprises.

"Hold just a minute!" Deverill rose up to his feet as well. "What the hell are you doing, kid?"

"Winning the game," Harry said firmly, walking over to his broom. He inspected it for any sign of damage. Nodding his head since there was not a dent or a scratch, he slung the broom over his shoulder.

"Did the bludger hit your head pretty hard, kid?" Deverill snarled strictly. Everyone backed away from the angry man, opting the right choice was not to interfere the man. "You're staying in the bed for the rest of the game, Potter! This game is already over for you! I will not allow you to take one more step into the gam-"

"I know what you meant, coach. I truly understand it now and for that I thank you." The others were confounded at this. Deverill cooled down, comprehending which part Harry meant.

Deverill gazed the kid for a short while. There was the bang from the referee wand. "Are you sure this is what you want, kid?"

"Definitely, I got a score to settle with Quigley. You think, I'll let it let slide after what he did to me? Fat chance, coach."

Deverill's lips gradually coiled to a smirk. "Then rip the Bat's wings apart."

He dispatched the coach a devilish grin. "Gladly."

Seeing a bludger directed to him, Wadcock dropped the Quaffle. He pulled his broom up, avoiding the bludger from knocking him. Harry immediately lunged for the Quaffle that Wadcock released earlier, snatching it and dashed to the goal posts. Closing in to the goal post, he departed his right arm, almost felt like he was preparing to toss the Quaffle to one of the goal posts. But that wasn't his intention as he threw the Quaffle to the air next to him, not so strong, more like passing it. At this, Griffiths took her cue and hit the Quaffle with the tail of her broom as hard as she could. The crowds cheered when the Quaffle passed through one of the hoops. Griffiths grinned at her score, flying to Harry as she high-fived him. Harry returned her gesture, smiling a little. They went to their captain, taking their defensive position. Wadcock grinned, complimenting them of their teamwork.

The game had gone for an hour and twenty-five minutes and Puddlemere United is in the lead for the first time of the game. Harry looked at the score, breathing heavily. He wiped the sweat out of his face. The score already went by 620 to 470. Their teamwork was faultless. With Harry stealing the Quaffle, Griffiths' scoring ability and Wadcock's leadership combined with his assists on allowing his two teammates to score, the three of them were the best teamwork anyone could find. Harry marveled absently why their performance wasn't like this in the previous game. They would outclass the Magpies without a beat and save their strength for the prolonged game. Probably, most of it was his own fault. He was worn out though, the rest of the players appeared to be much more exhausted than him.

Somehow the snitch hasn't shown itself which the Puddlemere team was thankful of. In this game, Harry never scored beyond hundred points, only sixty points and the rest goes to the other two chasers. He smiled unconsciously in spite of his breath was ragged. This is what it feels like if you played Quidditch with excellent teamwork. It's a feeling he never experienced in his life, sharing the game he loves with other people. He reminded himself after all of this, that from this point on, he would put an effort as to not play Quidditch in individual style. That was what he was doing all this time.

He reverted to reality as one of the chaser slipped past him. Growling, he was about to rush after the player. He stopped instinctively when a furious bludger passed him. He gnashed his teeth irritatingly and glared at Quigley. That jerk doesn't know when to quit, does he? The man glared him back by the distance. Harry also observed that Quigley only have the brawn but not the brain. Once Puddlemere learned to utilize their teamwork, Quigley was pretty much confused on whom to strike which gave them the advantage in the game.

Looking upfront and ignoring Quigley, Harry inhaled a sharp breath as the Bat's chasers attempted to score. He blew a breath of relief when Casper Doukas blocked it. Suddenly, the crowds' cheering went nuts. Puzzled, Harry looked at the large magical screen. His eyes were large when the opposing seeker was reaching out for the snitch. Williams was lugging behind the seeker. If they tied in this game, then Ballycastle Bats will win the game. They had never loss a single match before. Shaking his head to clear the daze, Harry shouted Wadcock to pass the Quaffle to him.

Wadcock snapped at Harry's voice, clearly he heard it amongst the vociferous cheer from the crowds that's currently filled in the stadium. All of the players were still watching the large magical screen in anxiety and anticipation. All of the attention was on the snitch. This was an opportunity for Harry. Harry shouted more angrily to Wadcock to pass the Quaffle to him quickly. Wadcock couldn't hear what Harry was saying but wasn't foolish enough to see how irate he is. He clenched the Quaffle and threw it with all his might to Harry, roaring that was equal to a lion's.

Looking at the Quaffle, Harry swished his broom to it. Catching it in time, he let out a surprise shout as he almost lost his balance on the broom and his grasp on the Quaffle. His broom's speed was on the maximum at the present. He eyed the magical screen and gritted his teeth since the Bat's seeker was on the verge of seizing the snitch. Harry was still far from the goal posts to take the shot. He pushed the broom again and again. His emerald eyes were blazing with full of determination, hands trembling slightly in adrenaline and his head was about to explode.

This was a race against time! Harry couldn't allow Ballycastle Bats to win!

He cried out in pain when a bludger hit his left shoulder powerfully. At that, it affected his flying as it went to wrong direction, directing it to the ground instead. Damn Quigley! Not now! He was not going to give up. Discarding the pain, he successfully moved the direction of the broom up, just a bit. However, his triumph was short-lived when another bludger striked his broom this time. Harry yelled in surprise as his body was hurled from his broom. On his guard right away and still in the air, he glanced at the goal posts. His body nearly contacted the ground.

Shutting his eyes and praying to some unknown deity, with a loud desperate cry, he threw the Quaffle with the last bit of energy he had. He braced himself next, covering his face with both of his hands as his body slid to the ground painfully and then stopped after a few seconds. He opened his eyes, breathing profoundly. He sat upright, wide eyes scrutinizing the pitch. Standing up frenetically, he looked at the magical screen. If it possible his wide eyes amplified more at the final score. He couldn't believe it...

He did it! There, the score was 630 to 620!

There was another magical screen emerged right beside the score. It was displaying how Harry scored on the last minute. It even showed his desperate facial expression on scoring the points. A large smile was visible on his lips as he watched the screen repeating his previous action. The sound of the crowd was deafening, entirely unexpected of the outcome. He twirled his body to greet his teammates who ran over him. He smiled more broadly as he clapped each of his two hands on Wadcock's. Both males wore the biggest grin ever. Then, straight away he was brought to a suffocating headlock by Williams. Both Doukas and Montmerry joined in with Williams as all three men ruffled his hair.

Harry laughed happily at this along with his teammates, didn't mind his hair was very messy and the pain he was in. The only thing on his mind was, they won! They won the bloody tournament! The coach was right, the victory was indeed sweet! It was nothing like Hogwarts. The stadium was showered by different colors of confetti and the boisterous noise from the crowds spread up in the air. The two regular commentators were shouting bloody loud that Puddlemere United won the tournament.

After few minutes, perhaps much more minutes, all of it settled down. The crowds now watched as Puddlemere United players, along with Deverill, stepped on the podium to receive the cup from the organizer of the tournament. The man had a large grin on his face. Shaking hands with the organizer of the tournament, Deverill practically stole the cup from the man, accidentally knocking him off the podium. No attention was on the organizer as the cameras began clicking madly when Deverill raised the cup with both of his hands.

After he brought it down, all Puddlemere's players crowded the coach, eagerly touching the cup with their hands. The reporters insisted them to do so for the front page of Daily Prophet. Harry, seeing most of them were placing their hands on the cup, he shrugged uncaringly, putting just one finger on top of the cup, though, he did so with a smile of amusement on his face. Some chuckled at this, but didn't stop flashing the cameras. Fireworks started to explode in the air and another round of confetti burst on the podium. It was soon joined by the crowds, noisily applauding for them.

Harry endured minutes on the podium, smiling slightly at the crowds. It's not wrong for him to enjoy the victory. He did so previously on the pitch and that was Gryffindor of him. However, he didn't mind at all. In the meantime, Wadcock was holding a Quaffle in his hand. Supposedly, a captain must have tossed the Quaffle to the crowd. It's for their fans. He grinned as he eyed the boy who made this all come true. He exchanged glances with Griffiths and nodded their heads, smiling.

"Mate!" Wadcock called out for him.

Harry blinked and shifted his attention to Puddlemere's captain. "Yes, captain?" He noticed the reporters never got tired of flashing the cameras, and he learned to just ignore it, simply let them do whatever they wish to.

The guy grinned, walking over him and shoved the Quaffle to the kid's stomach. Harry, still inexperienced to all of this, gazed confusedly at the Quaffle in his hands, wondering what to do with it. Wadcock laughed at this, slinging his arm over Harry's shoulder. "Just turn around, close your eyes and throw it to the crowds. The girls will love it, mate! If you're lucky, you'll get a reaction," Wadcock whispered.

"Okay..." Harry answered uncertainly. He did what the captain told him to. He spun around, arms ready to throw the Quaffle and eyes shut securely. Seeing the young chaser, the crowds began making so much noise, screaming ecstatically. Harry furrowed his forehead at the noise. Taking a huge breath, he blindly tossed the Quaffle. He turned around and eyes popped at the crowds fighting over the Quaffle, men and women, alike.

"Is that supposed to happen?" asked Harry, pointed his finger at the crowds wrestling each other for the Quaffle. There's sound of tearing robes and a bunch of stuff flying from the crowds including shoes, most definitely shoes.

"Um... no..." Wadcock said. "A catfight maybe, but not this..."

They both ducked as spells hurried toward them. "Shouldn't we do something?"

"Nah..." Wadcock waved his hand carelessly. "Let them be, it will make them happy."

"Okay, you're the expert in this kind of stuff, not me." Harry nonchalantly budged his head to the right to evade another incoming spell.

3 August 1992.

The next day, Harry found himself in Deverill's office at early morning. Apparently, after the finale of the tournament, the players were allowed to take a break for four long months before returning to their daily routine in training. Harry was in Puddlemere's headquarters because Deverill had summoned him, something important said the coach. He sighed in relief, given that he doesn't have to deal with coach bawling for his lateness. That night, he didn't waste time to disappear from the party.

"Oh good, you're here early, saves me from shouting at you." Deverill closed the door and maneuvered himself to his desk. "So kid, how are you feeling now?"

Harry feigned a look of pain, massaging his left shoulder. "If you're wondering about that hit from Quigley then it's damn painful, I tell you, coach."

Deverill grumbled at this, dropping the grin. "You're lucky, there's no more training and players are free-"

"From you?" Harry smirked, amused expression plastered all over his face.

"Watch it, kid, or I'll wipe out that smug face of yours."

Harry silenced for a while before saying, "To be frank, I'm really overwhelmed these past few months. Things I would never imagine I would go through or live through. I experienced many things, discovered new feelings, and most of all, I study a lot of things from you. I realized last night that I've been kind of selfish, playing a one man team instead of with my teammates. I think that's the most important lesson of all. I now know that... even though we think we are alone in this world, but in truth we never were and people who tend to forget about us... they never have any intention or wish to forget about us..." Harry left his sentence hanging, a slight sorrow glittered on both of his eyes. Memory of his childhood materialized inside his head.

Deverill saw this. "I'm happy to hear you recognizing your mistake, kid. I truly am. Remember, out there, doing things alone was never successful for a person, whether it's Quidditch or life, it's all the same to people. You can't find the meaning of life alone. The best you can hope is allow people to assist you in your long journey." The coach of Puddlemere coughed purposely, catching the kid's attention. "I think we're missing the point on why I called for you."

"Why did you call me, coach?"

Deverill fumbled something inside his desk. He pulled out a key that Harry identified it as one of the key's vault in Gringotts. "I kind of forgot to give you your key when you first joined our club." Deverill handed the key to Harry. A bit of sheepish splashed his features.

"What key? What's this for? Isn't that for a vault in Gringotts?"

"That's right, it is. You have your own vault supplied with plenty galleons, just for you, kid. Inside it is all yours."

"What?" Harry was shocked to hear this. "What do you mean all of it is mine? No way am I going to accept this! You can have it!"

"With that many galleons in your vault, you're giving them all to me? That's very generous of you, kid." Deverill was being his usual sarcastic. "What? You thought you join a professional Quidditch club for fun? You're full of yourself, kid. The time I gave you one of Puddlemere's badge is the time you start a career of professional Quidditch. Every member in this club had to be paid, kid. They have their own salary. You also without an exception. Just because you're underage doesn't mean you don't get paid, that would be unprofessional of us. You also have your own fair share of galleons for the effort you put on the last two matches," Deverill grumbled, his hand still hanging in the air. "Well, don't just stand there. Do you want to leave me like this all day long? Hurry up! Take the bloody key from me and when you need galleons to purchase something, just go to one of the tellers in Gringotts and asked them about your vault."

Harry, with trembling hands, grabbed the key, looking at it with astonishment written all over his face. "But- but- is this okay? I m-mean..."

"Yes, kid. It's all yours. You deserve it and you earn those galleons with your hard work and effort." Deverill stood up from his seat. "Now, I'm going to let you off the hook until next year so you better damn sharpen up your skills when you get back. If I find you're getting rusty, you'll be in a big trouble, kid. Do you understand that?"

"Y-yeah, s-sure, coach. I'll be in top condition when I get back. I promise you that. I'll try to train my body to the limits."

"Good." Deverill permitted a slight smile on his wrinkled lips. "Now, go have some fun. It is summer. You should be out there like every kid of your age, enjoying yourself. This isn't advice, kid. It's an order."

Hands still shaky from receiving a vault key from the coach, Harry smiled at the man. "I'll try."

The coach extended his right hand for Harry, on his feet. Hesitant at first, but Harry took it, shaking it firmly. "Until next year, kid..."

"Until next year, coach..." Harry smiled a little, nodding his head towards the future. He placed his newly acquired vault key in one of his coat's pockets.

A good sign of life ahead of him, indeed.

4 August 1992.

That night, as always, Harry arrived home late. After his business in Puddlemere finally concluded, he immediately went to the Greengrass manor, having received an invitation from Lady Greengrass. He actually fell to his butt twice once he stepped out of the fireplace. First, was his annoying skill in magical transportation, however, the second was a surprise from four families. They were holding a celebration party of their own for his accomplishment. To say he was stumped was beyond understatement. He woke up that morning with a bright smile on his face. His smile was still attached as he stared at the lovely morning through the window of his room. He stalked away from his bed. He waved his right hand nonchalantly on the direction of the bed, cleaning the mess from his sleep. He stretched both hands, feeling a great day ahead of him.

Yesterday had been a marvelous day for him. He spent the rest of the day in the Greengrass manor with the girls and their families, but his time was more on the girls. He spent the day with them, talking about useless things, teasing, joking and enjoying their companies. Sheila was even bold enough to challenge him to a battle of Quidditch to which the other three girls shook their heads in amazement at their friend's stubbornness. Surely by now, she knew that Harry was far from her reach in terms of skill in Quidditch. Harry smiled in amusement at the memory of yesterday. It was kind of fun, he supposed. He shook his head, chuckling to himself, astounded at the effect the girls had on him.

As he was about to go to the bathroom, something held him back. It was a small burst of blue flame, flaring up in the air. He looked at the parchment that glided in the air smoothly, taking the place of the fire. He knew that magic from anywhere and he knew only one person other than him could perform that technique excellently. It must be urgent if it is all of the sudden. He snatched the parchment, face was serious. The moment his hand touched the parchment is the time Harry realized he was not in his room but rather somewhere else very familiar.

"You are here..." Harry looked up, Incendio the parchment he held on his hand. He was in the room where he had done all of his trainings with Merlin.

"Old man...?" That transportation was no ordinary transport. Only Merlin could come up with something like that. It's different from Portkey or any other magical transportation of this era and Harry wasn't landing on his butt so it had to be different. "What's this about?"

"Why, I missed you so much, Harry. It's that to be considered a problem?" The ancient man concealed his mouth with the back of his hand, with no effort hiding his amusement but rather displaying it. He gave a dramatic sigh afterwards, collapsing to a grand chair he conjured effortlessly. "Ah, how have I longed for you to act cheerful and smile in front of me. It would seem all of that is just my endless imagination...Very much shame, oh a shame, indeed."

Harry scowled. "Cut the crap. If you do miss me, you will just find a way to bug me or annoy the hell out of me. What's this about, Merlin?"

Merlin heaved an exhausted sigh and dropped his childish antics. "I have come to a decision to carry out your training once more, child."

"What?" Harry's eyes flew wide. "But I thought you said-"

"I fear that you will not have the strength to overcome the next obstacle that lay ahead of you and so, I have chosen to prepare you with the remaining time in our hands for this new peril. Yes, this training will assist you to vanquish this threat."

"What danger? What are you talking about?" Harry demanded.

"The questions you seek will slowly be answered, child. Be patient just a while longer. All of it will come to you." Harry was ready to protest this angrily but one stern stare from the ancient man caused his tongue to dry out to form a word, and his body rigid in obedience. "Listen very carefully, Harry. These remaining days before you return to Hogwarts will be significant for you. Have full confidence in me, child. You are very well aware that I, for all of our time, have always been guiding you in your life."

"For you to call me like this, it must be really important." Harry calmed down, though never diminished his scowl. "All right then, I'm willing to play your cards for the time being and be patient on what lies in my future."

"Very good." The fire began to light up in the training chamber, marking the beginning of the training. Harry sighed exasperatedly. The old man surely did not to waste anymore time. Can't he at least clean himself?

"I will not teach you incantations nor will I teach you spells. I will not illustrate you to increase your magical core nor will I supply you with knowledge. However, I will teach you how to utilize your magic with both of your eyes. You will acquire the skills that I once showed you. The process will be painful, Harry, but it is necessary for you to succeed in distributing your magic to both of your eyes and control the flow of your magic in your eyes. It will not be as powerful as it is with your hands, but it will give you certain benefits and chances in winning battles. You will have an element of surprise for your enemies. It will also shield your eyes from any form of magic or...instant death..."

That's not a good sign, never was good sign when death is related to anything.