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Harry Potter and the Year of Revelations	By : zeldaofarel Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 7848 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Author's Notes: Join the mailing list for this story! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hp_yor_update/ Get updates, see what's going on with my progress.
Chapter 6: Lessons and Quidditch

Harry woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in months. He drew back the curtains and looked at the clock. It was half past seven, so he was just on time. He examined the timetable by his bed and that was when his spirits fell. His whole morning was scheduled to be spent in the dungeons in Potions.

He went about his morning routine dreading nine o'clock. The others were in similar conditions and conversation was kept to the minimum at the breakfast table. They only brightened a bit when Oya greeted them on her way to the teachers' table. However, when they saw her exchange an angry glance with Snape, they were back in their bad mood. They were sure that the conflict between. The two past lovers would worsen the Potion Master�s mood. They arrived to class ten minutes ahead of time, because they were so afraid of being late.

"Well, if it isn't Potter!" called a snide voice as they were standing in front of the classroom.

"Malfoy," was all Harry said.

"Did you have a nice summer, Potter? I know I did," he smiled, waiting for an answer. When he didn't get any, he turned to Hermione. "Still here, Mudblood?"

Harry looked over to Ron and saw his face contort in anger. He put a restraining hand on his arm. With the prospect of Snape appearing any minute, he didn't want trouble. Malfoy on the other hand, did.

"I thought that after June you would have at least the sense to run away from here as fast as you can." He laughed and Crabe joined him with Goyle. "Well, hello sis!" he greeted and the trio looked behind them, to see Isabelle arrive. "Nasty little trick you've pulled. Now I won't be able to keep an eye on you like Father wanted."

"I can take care of myself, Draco," was her answer.

"Yeah, that's why you had to leave Durmstrang. Father heard that sometimes � Oh, but I'd better not say such a thing out loud. A disgrace to the family." He hung his head in mock shame.

Just as Draco was about to have a good laugh at this, the door opened and Snape strolled out.

"Get inside," was all he said and returned to the classroom obviously in a foul mood.

They all followed him and took their places at their cauldrons. He stepped up to the blackboard and began writing up the instructions for some very complex potion.

"I thought I'd put you all to a little test today," he said a quarter of an hour later, as he was finished. "There may be one or two of you," he looked at Hermione and Draco, "who are capable of making this potion, but I don't expect more. Get to work now. You have all morning to finish."

For hours and hours Harry measured, chopped, ground, stirred, heated, cooled, he was concentrating so hard; his eyes bulged. They only had fifteen minutes left of the class, when he sat down, finished. He looked at the end of the instructions. His potion was supposed to be clear and watery. His, however, was yellow and dense. He just couldn't understand what he had done wrong. He looked over to Ron, who was still working. Hermione was looking into her cauldron, obviously wondering about what went wrong. Her potion was watery, but a pale green. He couldn't see inside anyone else's, but Neville looked frantic. Even Draco Malfoy had a nasty smirk on his face. Isabelle, on the other hand, was sitting in her chair, arms and legs crossed. Harry had never seen her with that expression before; it was confidence.

All these hours Snape had been either at his desk, observing them, or disappeared inside his office. Now, he decided to go around and have a look at their work. Without saying anything to them, he made the contents of Seamus' and Dean's cauldrons disappear with a wave of his wand. Neville came next.

"Longbottom, I didn't expect anything else from you. Evanesco!" his potion was no more as well.

"Miss Granger, I did expect more of you," was all he said to Hermione, before destroying her potion. She hang her head in shame.

"Well, let's see what we have here, Potter." Harry just knew he was going to dwell on it. "By the smell of it, it could be rat stew. I have made this potion at least a hundred times, so, as I remember, it only needs one rat tail. However, you have clearly wasted at least five on this. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, hesitantly.

"Do you think that I'm teaching you how to cook?"

"No, sir."

"Then why are you wasting my time with this stupid rat stew?!"

His eyes were almost mad. Harry almost told him that if he had a problem with Oya, he should just go and sort it out with her, but said nothing. Of course, Snape sometimes did act odd, but this time he was almost silly. His potion too, disappeared. Malfoy was next.

"Your father would have very much liked you to get this right." He said nothing more. "Evanesco!"

He arrived to Isabelle's cauldron. He looked at it, bent over the liquid and took a sniff.

"Excellent, Miss Malfoy! Incredible! Perfect! How you've got among those incompetent Gryffindors, I have no idea. I'm sorry to do this, but I have no other option. Twenty points for Gryffindor," he said this, as if someone was pulling his tooth out. "How did you do at Potions at Durmstrang?"

"I was top student."

Snape quickly went to his desk and grabbed a book from there.

"It says here that you were the top student in all your classes. I repeat, how could you be sorted into Gryffindor?" He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

"It wasn't so hard to make that potion. I'm very interested in Potions and often practise," she shrugged.

"Well, you may just be the student I've been waiting for! Someone with the talent for it." Snape looked much happier than � ever, except for the time before Oya's refusal. "All you incompetent fools, get out of here. Miss Malfoy, I need to discuss something with you," with these words he motioned for her to follow him inside his office.

When they were outside, Harry turned to Hermione.

"He never did tell us what we were making. Do you know?"

"Veritaserum," she answered. "It was probably the hardest he could think of that could be done in a couple of hours."

"Imagine that, Snape gave us points and it was a Malfoy who earned it for us. Miracles do happen," Ron said.

"Oh Ron, she doesn't seem all that bad," Hermione told him.

"Malfoy," the red-head frowned.

"Still, she had never said or done anything mean," she reminded him.

"Just wait."

Hermione didn't reply to that.

The afternoon was spent on the grounds with Hagrid, since it was Care of Magical Creatures. Harry thanked him for the book and would have very much liked to talk to him about giants, especially if he had met any over the summer. However, Draco Malfoy was always hovering nearby. Isabelle did well in this class also. They studied a rather likeable creature; a Clabbert. It looked like a cross between a monkey and a frog, mottled green, long limbs, webbed feet and hands, short horns, and a large pustule on its forehead. Hagrid had clearly been told not to have any really dangerous creatures that year. Since he probably didn�t want to get on the bad side of the school governors, he listened. Harry watched from the corner of his eye as Isabelle fed hers a few small lizards with tender care, even whispering it something. He pretended to need some more lizards and went past Isabelle. She was saying to the ugly thing 'come now, eat it, good little boy, all gone �'. He looked for just a glance and saw her pat its head. He smiled and then his eyes turned to the other Malfoy, who was practically force-feeding his. He shook his head at the difference between the twins. Isabelle had the darker colouring, but clearly the kinder heart.

In the evening Harry was scheduled to meet Isabelle again. He was waiting on the sofa for everyone to leave the room and he decided to just relax his eyes a bit. However, he must have fallen asleep, as he woke up for Isabelle's gentle shaking.

"I'm sorry to wake you. If you're tired, just go up to sleep," she motioned upstairs as she stood by him.

"No, I'm not that tired. Sit down." Harry sat up and patted the sofa next to him.

She sat down and looked into the fire a bit. She was obviously lost in thought and Harry couldn�t do anything but look at the beauty of her form as the flames from the fireplace danced on her. Isabelle�s dark eyes seemed to capture them and as the dark orbs perfectly mirrored their play, Harry couldn�t help but suspect that her inner being was just as much on fire. He decided to break her out of it and searched around in his mind far a topic to start the conversation with.

"Snape said that you're a good student. Top grades in everything," he finally said.

"Well, yeah. You see, I didn't have any friends to distract me. I couldn't play with them, or have fun. So instead I concentrated on studying," she told him after looking up to him.

"Oh. I'm sorry," he cringed, perhaps talking about this was not a good idea.

"It's ok, Harry. After a while I got used to it. Besides, they weren't that likeable there anyway," she shrugged off his concern.

"What did Snape want with you?"

"I'm going to have extra classes of Potions on Friday late afternoons. Just when you have a class with your aunt. Funny, isn't it?" she smiled.

"You actually can't wait," Harry noticed, bewildered that she would want to spend her free time like that.

"Yes. Oh, I've just learned something about Professor Snape,� she perked up, obviously excited to share something with him. Harry supposed she didn�t often have a chance to simply chat with someone.� Imagine, he had a younger sister. I noticed a picture on his desk in his office. On it, he was standing next to a pretty woman. He saw me looking at her and told me that she was his sister and her name was Serena. She died a long time ago. He didn't say how and I didn't want to ask."

"I wonder � If she was pretty, she must have looked odd next to Snape," Harry grinned at his own joke.

"He did have the greasy hair, but he didn't look so thin and was altogether brighter,� she frowned at his joke. Oh, Harry, it's so odd that he was so nice to me and so horrid to you. Why does he pick on you like that?" She seemed genuinely concerned about this.

"Oh, he and dad were enemies when they were both coming to Hogwarts," he shrugged.

"He shouldn't judge you by your father."

"Everyone is doing that to you," Harry said with understanding.

"Yes, but � Everyone can see that you are a nice person and �"

"It's all right, Isabelle. I'm used to it. So you were telling me about your extra potions class." He was getting uncomfortable with where the conversation was going and decided to rivert back to where he originally started from.

"Yes. Anyway, I always did like mixing potions. Did you know that Professor Snape is a very famous potions master? He has developed a couple himself. I really can't believe he is willing to privately instruct a Gryffindor. Especially a girl." Her eyes were shining with happiness.

"You are a Malfoy and I don't think he really counts you among us. What did you mean by, 'especially a girl'?"

"Well, you see in Death Eater and conservative families� girls often aren't educated much. If they are allowed to go to school, they aren't allowed to work after it. Usually they are taken out when they get married."

"When do they get married to be still in school?"

"Around sixteen."

"Isn't that early?" Harry was amazed. How could anyone make such a commitment so soon in life.

"No. You see; these are arranged marriages. Sixteen is above the age of consent, which is fifteen, but before the girl would be a legal adult at seventeen and free of the will of her father," she continued to educate him of the Wizarding Word.

"Will they marry you to someone when you're sixteen?"

"Probably," her voice was small.

Harry almost said that he wouldn't allow it, but didn't feel it appropriate. Instead, he remained silent and hoped it would not be so.

"Harry, tell me about yourself. About your previous years in Hogwarts," it seemed that the subject disturbed her thus she changed it.

He did as she asked. Her dark eyes were fixed on him as she listened to his every word. He only told a little bit of his first year that night before they went upstairs. Preparing for sleep, Harry remembered to take his potion. He knew that if he didn�t, he would dream of some dreadful things about any of the topics they had discussed that night.

The next few days were spent in a similar fashion. Harry kept watching Isabelle when he could, especially during the boring History of Magic classes. Hermione would watch as her elegant hand glided over the paper taking meticulous notes. While his hands were always covered in ink, especially at the fingertips, her slender fingers stayed as immaculately white as the beautiful white-owl quill she used. In the evenings, they met and talked, mostly him telling stories of what had happened to him in Hogwarts. He did look forward to these. Their time together was filled with fun and laughter. Harry discovered that she did have a great sense of humour that had many layers. Sometimes she teased him, then cause a touch of irony, other stories brought out her intelligent sarcasm, but she could still giggle at him tripping and falling flat on his face. Indeed, his nights were wonderful and he found himself gracing closer to her and wishing that their relationship could e brought into the light of day. Another thing that he could hardly wait for was Oya's tutoring on Friday. When it finally arrived and he was standing in front of her office, full of anticipation. So he knocked on the door.

She opened it, dressed in Muggle clothes; a green T-shirt that said 'I love the Goddess' and blue jeans. Harry could hardly surpass a snicker.

"Hi there, Harry!" she called happily.

"Hello Aunt Oya!" he returned it in a similar fashion.

"Come on inside." She stepped away from the door.

He went in and sat down on the sofa. Oya joined him and took a calming breath.

"Harry, first, you need to know a few things, before we start and then you have to tell me a few things. Oh, I did it again! I keep repeating words. Oh, well, anyway, so the magic comes from you, not from your wand. Now isn�t that obvious?� she asked, but as Harry tried to answer it, she went on, indicating that she meant it as a rhetoric question. �If the wand held the magic, Muggles could use them! Wizards and witches only use wands to focus their magic into the core and then channel it. The same goes for spells. Those help the focus and the visualisation. Now in wandless magic, what you really do is focus the magic inside you and visualise without a spell. It is not easy, needs a lot of concentration. I have heard about your Patronus and that is proof that you can really concentrate and the magic is strong within you. Now, you have done lots of accidental magic probably. Tell me about them," she requested.

"Well, I once turned one of my teachers' wigs blue," he blushed at the memory.

She started laughing at this and it filled her office. Harry first stared at her and then joined his aunt.

"That's a good one! Blue!" she said while laughing. After a while she forced herself to stop. "Ok, tell me another one."

"Well, I've done a lot with my hair. Uncle Vernon always said that I needed a haircut and I was taken to the barber's a lot of times, but always came back looking the same way," he remembered.

"Oh, that's actually an inheritable curse."

"It is?" Harry was surprised. He never thought that his hair could be cursed to behave the way it did.

"Yeah. A few generations back, I think it was your � great great grandfather, so he was very proud of his hair, which was a shiny black and stuck to his head like a helmet. So there was this witch, whom he charmed and � bedded. She wanted him to marry her, but he refused, so she cursed his hair to be always messy and that every men of his descendent, who would bear the Potter name, would have the same hair. He tried to break the curse, but as stupid as she was when it came to men, she was twice as clever when it came to curses." She laughed a little, but Harry couldn�t find it fumy.

"That sounds like a fairy tale."

"Yeah, but it's true. So if you'll have a son, he's bound to have the same hair. So, what happened with your hair?" she encouraged him to go on.

"One time, when I came back like that, my Aunt Petunia took out the scissors and almost cut me bald. I looked really horrible. However, it all grew back by morning, when I had to go to school."

"Your aunt and uncle do seem horrible. I've never met them."

"It could have been worse." He thought a bit of Isabelle's frightened eyes.

"I suppose. Go on, tell me more," she urged him on.

"All right. Once Dudley and his gang �" he began.

"Wait, who's Dudley?" she stopped his story.

"My cousin."

"Oh. Dudley Dursley. What an imagination." She smiled at the wordplay.

"So they were chasing me in school."

"Why?" Oya interrupted again.

"That was their favourite sport. I was faster and could hide better."

"Did they beat you?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Just a bit," she shrugged it off.

"Oh." She suddenly looked sad.

"It's ok. So they were chasing me and I suddenly found myself sitting on the chimney." He grinned at the memory of the boy�s stunned faces.

"On the chimney? You apparated as an accidental magic?" She seemed very excited. "Are you aware of how rare that is?! That's very strong magic!"

"It is?" Harry was amazed. He had never thought of what sort of magic he�d done then. Apparating was supposed to be hand.

"Of course! Now I know that you'll be great at wandless magic, you just need to train your mind." Her excitement persisted and her eyes twinkled as she gazed at him.

"Isn't that the hard part?" Harry wondered out level.

"It is. However, I wanted to know that we have enough to work with. Let me see, where should we begin? �." She seemed to think for a while. "Ok. Let's begin with Wingardium Leviosa. It's a simple spell." She magicked a small stone into her hand from her desk and put it on the floor in front of Harry. "Now, with your wand, raise it."

Harry did the spell and raised it about a foot, then let it down. It went easily enough, he�d done it many times by then.

"Good. Now, do it again, but concentrate on what you are really doing. Like how you visualise, how the magic flows through you and into your wand," she instructed.

"All right." He considered her words.

Harry began to concentrate. He could first see the stone rise in his mind, then as he said the spell, he could feel the magic go from him into the wand. He only raised it a bit.

"Did you feel it?" Oya asked, when he was done.

"Yes," Harry said, still awed at the experience.

"All right, now give me your wand." She held out a hand to him.

He reluctantly gave it to her. He almost felt naked. All he could do was just to watch the precious slim wood rest in his Aunt�s hand. He shivered a bit, a drop of sweat leaving his forehead. Like a junkie wanting a fix. It was cold, because during the summers he didn�t even take it out much from its secret hiding place; the loose floor-board under the bed. However, in such a magical place as Hogwarts it was a very different thing. He watched as Oya Potter. She stood up and walked over to the small fountain. She put the wand between the statues of the women and then returned to her seat.

"Now, try to do it again. Except, direct your magic with your hand and don't say the spell. You don't really need it."

Harry looked at the stone, saw in his mind's eye the way it rose, but nothing happened.

"I can't," he said after a few minutes of trying.

"Do you feel the magic flow in you?" she asked, patiently.

"No," he admitted.

"That's the though part. For that to happen, we need a little Muggle technique."

"Muggle technique?" Harry was surprised. How could anything Muggle be of use in wandless magic?

"Yes. You see, the main difference between Muggles and Wizards is that Muggles have normal energies, Wizards and Witches have magical ones. Muggles can move their energies by will within themselves. Or at least some of them can. Now, you have to learn as well, how to control the energy within you. Frankly, I had done it before I learned about it by instinct, so I may have a hard time explaining to you. The only way I can think of making you feel the energy is that you have to put your palms almost together, about half an inch apart," she demonstrated it for him.

Harry did as told.

"Close your eyes. Concentrate. Feel the warmth in your hands. Your body heat. That is your energy. Tell me when you can feel it."

Harry concentrated. Then, miraculously, he could feel it. The warmth was buzzing in his hands, his skin started to prickle as he was concentrating on it.

"I can feel it!" he happily exclaimed.

"Great, I knew you could do it. Now, feel it again and try to make it flow from one hand to the other."

Harry felt the warmth again, then tried to make it flow. However, it wouldn't move. He concentrated harder, but it still didn't. After a while he felt tired and stopped.

"I can't do it." He felt very disappointed in himself.

"Of course you can, Harry, you just need to have a better grasp of it. It takes time and practice. You sort of have to get aquatinted with your energy. You don't have to try right now. Do it when you're alone, before you go to sleep. If you try it often and hard enough, suddenly, you'll be able to do it. So, my suggestion is that you go and study, or have fun now and come back next week and we'll see how you've done," she suggested.

"Ok." He stood up to leave. He was a bit relieved that he didn�t have to succeed right away, but was still disappointed in himself.

"Don't get discouraged Harry. It took you time to do the Patronus as well, no?" Oya reminded him, see in his long face.

"Yes," he admitted. He remembered all too well the night he cast his first Patronus.

She got up and went to get his wand. She handed it over to him and then suddenly, she hugged him. She let him go and ruffled his hair a bit.

"Practice, practice, practice. Also, have a nice weekend. I've heard about you being captain of the Quidditch team. I hope you find a good keeper. I haven't seen a game in � decades. Is the first game still between Gryffindor and Slytherin usually?"

"Yes," it is. We have always won, in spite of their rule-breaking.�

"Well then, you have some task ahead of you. I'm proud of you for everything that you have done in the past years. You've accomplished things that would have been difficult for even an adult. I'm sure you'll get the hang of wandless magic soon enough."

"Thank you." He went to the door and opened it. He was just about to step into the corridor, when Oya called after him.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so forgetful! I have a present for you."

Harry closed the door and looked at his aunt, who had gone over to her desk and got a small black box out of a drawer.

"This has been passed down the men in the family for generations. James didn't take it with him to Godric's Hollow. It stayed at the mansion." She looked at him.

"There's a mansion?" Harry asked in wonder.

"Yes, where your dad and I grew up. It's on an unplottable Scottish island. Muggles don't go there. The house-elves must be keeping it in good condition. Some day you can go and live there. Anyway, I thought you should have this." She handed him the box.

Harry noticed that it was like a jewellery case. He opened it and inside was a golden pocket watch.

"It shows time just like a Muggle watch, but it has all the necessary enchantments on it. Like unbreakable and that sort of thing," Oya informed him.

Harry took it out of the box and gave the case to Oya. He popped the watch open and saw that it was eight o'clock.

"Thank you," he said, still staring at the simple, but beautiful object.

"It belongs to you. See?" She pointed at the other side of its inside.

There in beautiful magical letters it said "Property of Harry James Potter".

"But how�?" Harry couldn�t understand how his name could be already engraved into the pocket watch.

"Oh, a simple spell. It always has the name of the oldest male Potter on it. Some day, Harry, when you'll be old and near death, you'll give it to your oldest son," she said, putting her hand on his arm.

"You think I'll grow old?" With Voldemort around, Harry wasn�t so sure himself.

"Sure. I'll make sure of that,� she said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.� Now, go. You must have things to do, I don�t want to keep you.�

"Bye, Aunt Oya!" Harry said, turning towards the door.

"Bye Harry!"

He went out and headed towards the Common Room. He really did hope that he would get wandless magic right. He remembered the time when he lay at Voldemort's mercy, unable to move. If he had known how to do magic with only his thought, maybe Voldemort wouldn't be back.

In the evening he met Isabelle again and told her that he made little progress with wandless magic. He also showed her the watch that he got. She said it was beautiful. She on the other hand had learned a new potion recipe that they would only have next year. She said that Snape was actually nice to her and praised her talent. She was very happy about that. After they closed that subject, they began talking about Harry's adventures again.

Saturday came and went with studying and playing. Harry thought that he would have liked it very much if Isabelle could have joined them instead of sitting in a corner reading. In the evening she revealed it to him that she was in fact watching them the whole time. He asked her if she was unhappy that she couldn't join them, but she told him that she was used to just observing and got her joys from that.

Harry woke with the thought of Quidditch on his mind on Sunday after a good potion-helped sleep. After getting dressed, he got his broom out of his trunk and looked at it. As usual, his Firebolt was in excellent condition. No twigs were stuck in the wrong way, the handle gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window. It was a perfect day to hold a tryout. Maybe a bit too perfect, since it wasn't often that they had such beautiful weather during the matches.

Harry went down to the field - after a good breakfast - and looked around. There were over twenty people, who wanted to try to get into the team. Ron was there, with his ancient broom. The twins had told Harry that they wanted to give their brother a new broom, but because of Voldemort someone was always around. However, if Ron made the team, they would order him one by mail and sign it as a supporter of the team. Of course, this did put a considerable strain on Harry. Ron was his friend and he had been dreaming of becoming a Quidditch player for quite some time. He had also wanted a new broom. Now the fate of both rested partly on Quidditch Captain Harry Potter. Luckily, there were five other people he could consult with. He only hoped that Ron was the best for Keeper.

Harry decided to first visit the changing room and then start. Inside, he found the other members of the team. After quickly pulling on his cloak, he decided to ask them about the procedure.

"Guys, how do you usually do this?"

"It depends on the position," Alicia answered him.

"Hmm. What if we separate them first based on what position they would like to try for and make a team of them. Then you and they play a little, while I watch from above. Of course, you guys could keep your eyes peeled as well."

"All right Harry," they answered him. Harry was glad that his directions were taken so well.

The team went to the field and Harry stepped to the waiting candidates.

"You are to form Quidditch teams among you. The team is going to play against you. Take the positions you are applying for. In case you don't know, take the most likely position. I will be watching you from above," he instructed.

There was some murmuring in the group as they tried to form teams. When they seemed to be ready, Harry spoke to the people before him.

"When you're ready, take your starting positions and I'll take care of the balls," he informed them.

Harry got the twins to help him take out the box with the balls. He first took the Quaffle out and placed it next to the container. He was standing in the middle of the field and looking around he realised that the probationary team was set. The original team stood up as well. That was when Harry noticed his blunder. He had to put someone at the goalposts of the original team. He was a bit mad at himself for making such a mistake. Anyway, he went to the candidates and asked them who wanted to be a Keeper. A couple of people put their hands up. Ron was already defending for the other team. To his surprise, Harry noticed a small, rather ugly girl among them. She looked better physically equipped for a Seeker. Harry didn't often label people as ugly, but this time he really couldn't say anything else to her appearance. She had an indescribable colour of hair, somewhere between brown and grey, which she wore in two ponytails on either side of her head, held together by bright red ribbons. She looked at him with bulging brown eyes that sat far apart above a large nose. Under that her wide mouth was open, the thick lips framing teeth standing in an unruly way. Hermione's parents would have fainted at the sight. The only thing on her head that was small almost to the level of non-existence, was her chin. Her head was in a stark contrast to her body, on which everything was small. To his own surprise, Harry found himself choosing her as the Keeper.

The game began when Harry released the Bludgers and then the Quaffle. He flew up very high to observe the others. He was not only looking at how well they were doing in the game, but also the potential. The whole process took most of the day. Slowly the bad ones were sorted out, then the not-so-bad ones and only the good remained, and luckily, just as Harry wanted. Three Chasers, two Beaters and a Keeper.

Ron didn't make it into the primary team. He wasn't a bad Keeper, but he wasn't a very good one either. On the other hand, he was a great Chaser, so he was selected as a reserve-in-training, to Harry's relief.

The greatest surprise was the ugly girl, Keaira Gael was her name, as they learned. She was even a better Keeper than Oliver Wood. On her Nimbus 2000 she could catch the Quaffle before it reached the hoops no matter who threw it. It was amazing and there was no question, who should get into the team.

Harry decided to talk things over with Keaira and get to know her, so he approached her when they headed back tot he castle.

"Keaira, you're an outstanding Keeper. I'm glad to have you on our team," Harry smiled warmly into her horrible face.

"Thank you." She beamed at him and he tried hard not to show the disgust he felt.

"Which year are you in?" he asked.

"Second."

"That's good. Then you can be with the team for six more years. How did you learn to keep so well?" Harry was curious to know.

"I don't really know. I was good at it the first time I tried. I just seem to know by instinct where the Chaser is going to throw the Quaffle."

"When did you first play?" he cocked his head with interest. Apparently she played by her instincts just as he did.

"When I was six. I went to my grandma's and played with my cousins. That was the first time they let me play with them. Of course, from then on they always asked me to be the Keeper," she smiled happily at the memory.

"Are you from an all Wizarding family then?"

"Yes. I heard that you had a similar experience with seeking."

"I had. From the first time I mounted a broom; I could ride it. I had no problem catching small, fast moving objects either."

"Then it seems like we are alike in something," she seemed excited at the fact.

"Why couldn't you play at home?" he wondered out-level.

"I grew up in London, the Wizarding part, and it's forbidden to use a broom there. Too much Muggle air traffic."

"I see. I can assure you that you'll have plenty of opportunities to play from now on," Harry told her truthfully. However, he was a bit concerned about how her eyes gleamed at that information.

To be continued �
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Harry Potter and the Year of Revelations