The Spiteful Sorting Hat

Hissing and Whispers

Harry woke early Saturday morning. He had been too excited to get much sleep the night before. After all, today was the day of Slytherin's Quidditch team try-outs. Since Terrence Higgs graduated the year before, there was only one vacancy - Seeker – the position Harry was most eager to play. He pulled on his clothes in the dark, then crept over to Blaise's bed, shaking him awake.

"Huh? What's the matter?" Blaise asked after waking with a jerk.

"Shh!" said Harry, covering Blaise's mouth and nodding toward Malfoy's bed. He knew Malfoy wouldn't miss an opportunity to vie for the same position, and Harry didn't want to spoil his head-start by waking him.

"Breakfast..." Harry mouthed silently. Blaise tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but Harry began pulling at his blankets, exposing him to the chill air and waking him up entirely. Blaise shot Harry a dirty glare, but kept his complaints to himself as he crawled out of bed and tugged on a pair of thick socks.

They didn't speak until they were already in the common room. In spite of the early hour, Harry was surprised to see Millie already awake, seated in one of the armchairs and scribbling in a notebook by the light of the dying fire.

Blaise pointed his wand at the embers and muttered a spell. The flames jumped back to life and Millie lifted her head to them in greeting.

"All right, Millie?" asked Harry, "Couldn't sleep either?"

"Are you kidding? I've been up all night!" Millie said, stretching her arms far above her head and standing from the chair, "It's today, isn't it? Quidditch try-outs?"

Harry had his broom in hand and showed Millie. Blaise had his own broom resting against his shoulder. He gave a wide yawn as Harry explained, "I figured I'd get a quick warm-up before breakfast. You know, just for an extra edge on the competition."

Millie, without anything else to occupy her morning, accompanied Harry and Blaise down to the Quidditch pitch. The sun was barely above the horizon, and their feet were getting soaked by the dew still clinging to the grass. Harry was grateful for his warm sweater and coat as his breath frosted the chill morning air. Blaise complained the entire walk down, saying that Harry was lucky he liked him so much. Harry assured him he'd feel differently once they were airborne.

He was right. Blaise's complaints melted away as he and Harry took to the sky. Under the same impulse of sudden joy, they both gave a whoop of laughter and raced each other around the pitch two or three times just for fun. Harry was pleased to see that although they had the same model of broomstick, he was still the faster flier. Feeling confident in himself, he drew from his pocket the practice snitch Blaise had given him last Christmas, and they began to race in earnest. Blaise managed to get the better of Harry at spying the snitch first, and caught it once himself. But Harry was able to beat him in four out of five trial runs, and his confidence grew, especially after he managed a particularly difficult catch using a move he'd read about in Quidditch Quarterly.

They returned to the Great Hall in good spirits just as the first early-risers began to trickle in for breakfast. Harry spotted Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin team, seated by himself at the long dining table. He was reading over the Daily Prophet and eating a large helping of pancakes. Harry waved away Blaise and Millie, saying they could get started without him, and he walked to Flint with every intention of schmoozing before the try-outs.

"Morning, Flint," Harry said by way of greeting, hoping that he seemed like a friendly, dependable sort of person you would want on your Quidditch team.

Flint flicked his eyes up from the paper, giving Harry a once-over. Harry had never actually spoken to the Quidditch captain before. He was a very tall, ogre-ish looking boy with sallow, pockmarked skin and a uni-brow. He was not the sort of person Harry would ever willingly talk to, but he needed to make nice with him now if he had any hopes of getting on the team. Harry tried not to let Flint's semi-permanent scowl intimidate him. He reminded himself that Millie wasn't very good-looking either, but she was one of his best friends. Perhaps Flint would exceed expectations.