The Golden Snitch

Quidditch and Commotions

'How has this week been, Harry?'

Harry shrugged, it was hard to tell. 'I still get plagued. Minerva suggested I start to use my cloak to move between lessons but I feel like I'm running away if I do that. And I've noticed it's not just me, most of the year eights get it, Neville, Ron and Hermione especially. But anyone who was there. If I use my cloak then I feel like I'm leaving them to deal with it all. Minerva said, that if she could, she would re-timetable us all to start classes ten minutes after the rest of the school, but of course, that doesn't work for the teachers. She's good, you know, she comes and talks to us regularly not just as Head of Year but she genuinely cares. The other evening, she clocked we'd been drinking together, Seamus seems to know how to get the odd bottle in. He's decided we all need educating in whiskies. She just told us to keep it quiet within the school and keep it to the weekends. She even joined us for a swift Firewhiskey, but it was a Friday night. I'm dead proud of the year, we've all pulled together, there's a real unity and it sets a good example for the rest of the school. The first years have certainly followed our lead, and I think there's more acceptance in the second and third years. It's just the rest of the school we need to worry about.'

'You don't think that the House rivalry has been put aside?'

'For us, yes it has. We get the futility and the shallowness. I think that Blaise and Pansy sharing their experiences has really helped.' Harry felt the white ferret in his shirt pocket stir and felt a depth of sorrow weighted upon his shoulders.

'What's wrong, Harry? Is there something you would like to share?'

'I'm worried about Draco. He doesn't partake and he's becoming more withdrawn. He knew this year was going to be difficult, but I don't think he's admitting how much of a hard time he's been given.' Harry paused. 'I walked in on some sixth years having a go at him, they were calling him all sorts of awful names. He just stood there. Taking it. I was so angry. I really bloody yelled at them. They should be ashamed of themselves. Draco wouldn't talk to me afterwards. He just said he had to go to the library. I don't think he's eating properly.'

'You shouldn't be taking on someone else's troubles as well as your own. Have you talked to Minerva about this?'

'Not yet. I will, I guess. I'm just watching at the moment, I want to gage how bad it is.'

*****

Harry was slumped on one of the sofas in the common room, Edward Ferret was burrowing behind his back and his Golden Snitch was hovering near his head, occasionally bumping into him, as if nudging him for a game. He ignored it. He was watching a certain blond man, curled up in an armchair near the window, apparently studying. He looked dejected, his shoulders slumped, his eyes down, but not actually reading any words on the page. Harry knew because the book was upside down. He knew because Draco's eyes were glazed. He knew because Draco had a blackeye that was colouring up by the minute and a split lip. It was too much. Harry was angry and didn't know what to do. Draco had rejected his attempts to help. He had refused to see Madame Pomfrey despite wincing from what Harry suspected was a broken rib.

'Harry, are you even listening to a single word I'm saying. McGonagall set the deadline for tomorrow, there's 15" to write and it's a complex spell to analyse.'

Harry snapped away from his contemplations, grabbed the Snitch and pocketed it, and sat up. 'I know, I've already done it, Hermione. Come on, Ned Ferret, we're going for a walk.' The ferret wriggled out from between the cushions he's been burrowing between, scrambled up Harry's shirt and nestled into his pocket.

As Harry stood up, he saw Hermione's jaw was slack and caught Ron giving him a filthy look.

Ron snarled, 'you treacherous bastard! Now I've got to deal with this all afternoon on my own.'