Friday November 5th
Dear Mister Potter,
We at the Tutshill Tornados were deeply impressed with your recent match at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and are pleased to offer you a position within our team!
If you accept, this is what we can offer you as a Tornado:
- An understudy position next season beneath our current first string seeker. This position pays 20,000 galleons for the season and 5% from all merchandising sales that use your name or likeness.
- If we are happy with your training as an understudy, we can offer you the reserve seeker position the next season. This position pays 65,000 galleons for the season and offers 15% from all merchandise sales that use your name or likeness.
- And if you are happy with our team, and our captain and manger both are amendable, the next season we would like to offer you a first string position as seeker. First string players earn 80,000 galleons for the season and 20% from all merchandise sales that use your name or likeness.
If this sounds like an acceptable offer to you please write to our team manager, Cameron Bayless, with acceptance of your position and a letter from your headmaster agreeing to allow you to join our training sessions next year twice a week from January to April with game dates (to be determined) running from May to August.
Thank you very much for your interest with our team and we look forward to seeing you fly in our skies!
Harry kept his expression perfectly blank as he read over the letter that the recruiter for the Tutshill Tornados sent him. He tried to keep the crushing disappointment pushed down as he reread it. He hadn't even known that any recruiters came to his game.
An understudy position his sixth year. A reserve spot his seventh.
Viktor had been first string the season before he turned seventeen. And Harry wouldn't be able to until he was eighteen.
He reread the bit about needing permission from his headmaster to attend training sessions and games and actually had to bite his lip to keep from groaning aloud.
This is what he gets for all but telling Dumbledore to fuck off Wednesday night.
"Harry? Is it good news?" Susan asked gently from beside him.
"Dunno." Harry handed her the letter and pushed his still full plate away from him.
"Oh my god," Susan's hands were shaking from excitement as she read it. "He did it!" she told the others. "The Tutshill Tornado's want him on their team!!"
Harry didn't cringe while his friends congratulated him, but it was close. "Ta," he said. "Understudy Potter has such a brill ring to it."
"Only for a season," Ron said bracingly. "Then you'll be Seeker Potter."
"Reserve Seeker Potter," Harry corrected him.
"You're not happy?" Neville asked him quietly. "Why? Harry, this is amazing!"
"I just..." Harry sighed and swallowed down his complaint. He grabbed the letter back from Susan and stuffed it in his pocket. "Dumbledore will never agree."
"If he's still headmaster by next year," Draco whispered, referring to Umbridge's plan to get Dumbledore fired.
Her most recent idea consisted of finding the illegal defense club of Gryffindor's and somehow using it as leverage to fire Dumbledore. Which was ridiculous, but Harry would be happy to see him go.
"Or still breathing," Susan said sweetly, referring to her own plan to kill Dumbledore. A plan which only strengthened after Harry and Hermione told the gang about their ambush from the other night.
"We'll see," Harry said flatly. The way life was going for him lately, he doubted if he'd ever be free of Dumbledore. "I'm gonna head to class, I'll see you guys in a bit."
Harry didn't want to complain, not to his friends anyway, but when he thought about the letter in his pocket, he was actually unhappy about the letter.
He really thought he was better than that. From the very first time he got on a broom, back in his first year flying class, everyone told him he was a gifted and talented flier. It was one of only two things that Harry was good at.
Madame Hooch said it. Draco said it. Sirius said it. Lupin said it. Flint said it. Fred said it. The damn Gryffindor quidditch captain had said it. Even Snape said it.
Of course... Harry slammed his bag down on his transfiguration desk. Snape also implied that he'd chosen him as prefect. So maybe he shouldn't have listened to him about the flying thing either.
Because the recruiter clearly didn't agree.
"Mister Potter, you're here early."
Harry looked up through his fringe to see McGonagall entering the classroom through her office door.
"Yes ma'am," he said politely. "I can wait in the corridor if you'd like?"
"Don't be ridiculous," McGonagall waved her hand and gave him a tight lipped smile. "What's on your mind?"
Harry slumped down in his seat then immediately straightened back up. "Nothing ma'am."
McGonagall pursed her lips and gave him a scrutinizing look. "Perhaps you should try again," she said, not unkindly. "It's easy, just say: 'Professor McGonagall, here's what's causing me to look like someone harmed my sweet little owl...'"
Harry unwillingly felt his lips curl up. "Here, I got this letter from a quidditch recruiter." Harry leaned across his desk to hand McGonagall the letter. He waited as her eyes flicked back and forth across the parchment and finally handed it back to him.
"And you are disappointed because you believe your talents are worth more than an understudy position?" she guessed accurately.
Harry shrugged down at his desk, not wanting to admit his own stupidity.
"Harry."
Harry peeked up at her, his face carefully blank.
"You are correct."
Harry sorted through that comment for a moment and his shock slowly transformed to a sort of self-conscious happiness. "Really?"
McGonagall sniffed and adjusted her wire-framed glasses. "I would never lie about such a thing. If you believe, as I do, that your talents are worth more than this, then you should politely decline their offer and search for a team that appreciates you."
Harry considered that carefully. "What if I don't find a better offer?"
"You will," McGonagall said with another smile. "And," she leaned forward to speak quietly as the first of the other students began trickling in, "I believe that James would be as proud of you as Severus undoubtedly is."
Harry thought that might have been the nicest thing that McGonagall had ever said to him.
He almost wished he'd brought up the prefect thing to her, wanting to hear her opinion on that.
Susan had brought it up last night, insisting on a sleepover in his bed.
'Why does it matter if Snape chose you or Theo?' she asked. 'You know he loves you.'
'He didn't want me to be prefect,' Harry said. 'He likes Theo more.'
'That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.' Susan rolled her eyes. 'He probably just thinks Theo does a better job of following the rules.'
'He does,' Harry admitted. 'It's fine that he picked him, I guess. But... why didn't he tell me?'
'Ask him,' Susan said. 'But don't start a fight with him, I think that's what Dumbledore wants. Snape cares about you, Dumbledore doesn't.'
And that was pretty decent advice.
So was Theo's input, which had been sarcastic and rude and well received.
'You killed a man on school property, I haven't,' he said. 'That's probably the only reason Snape picked me over you.'
That stupid badge looked better on Theo's chest than it did Harry's anyway.
Harry was planning on just ignoring the whole thing, not wanting to start an argument over something so dumb. Snape had raised his brows at Harry in class on Thursday, but since he didn't ask, Harry didn't offer up anything.
He didn't even like being prefect.
After classes Harry obediently trooped down to the library with his friends, the letter in hand, prepared to do exactly what McGonagall told him to do.
"You're turning down their offer?" Draco gasped, somehow reading Harry's messy handwriting from across the table.
"Yep."
"But why?" Ron asked him. "I thought you wanted to play professionally?"
"Not as a fuckin understudy," Harry muttered.
"Who offered you an understudy position?"
How is he so sneaky?!
Fred and George were standing by their table, nearly identical smiles on their faces.
Harry was going to start putting up privacy shields for every conversation he had in the future.
"Tutshill Tornados," he said. "I'm turning it down though."
"Good," Fred said seriously. "You're better than that. Later Harry."
Harry watched Fred and George just abruptly turn and walk away. He looked at his friends with nothing less than badly concealed surprise.
"What the fuck?"
The girls started giggling, but Harry was relieved to see that the guys looked just as confused as he was. Except Blaise, Blaise looked annoyingly amused.
"He's playing hard to get," Susan said with a teasing light in her eyes. "Merlin Harry."
"How's that hard to get?" Ron asked. "If Harry said 'oi Fred let's get back together', Fred would do it."
"Well duh," Hermione drawled. "But he's not going to ask Harry first this time."
"Why??" Neville frowned. "Why not just ask Harry back out?"
"Harry is right here," Harry scowled. "But... what Neville said. Why not just ask me out?"
"Because you ended it," Luna said with a logical tone Harry wasn't used to hearing from her. "He doesn't want to pressure you."
"Or he wants to get even by telling me to piss off if I ask him out," Harry said.
Harry ground his teeth together when all of his friends started snickering at that.
"He won't," Theo said confidently. "Quit being a prat and just put him out of his misery."
"Just for that, I'm going to be a prat even longer," Harry smirked. He added his signature to the bottom of the refusal letter and rolled it up tightly.
He didn't have to be a bloody understudy and he didn't have to take orders from Theo.
Not even if he was the prefect now.
Harry was woken from his sleep, again, that night with a sharp pain in his scar.
Leave me the fuck alone, he thought hatefully. Every time you bother me is just making me want to kill you faster.
The painful probing abruptly disappeared, allowing Harry to let out a breath of relief.
Until it returned.
"Argh," Harry hissed between his teeth as he clutched his forehead. The pain in his scar was so sharp it felt like someone was taking his dagger and driving it straight through his skull. This pain didn't feel angry anymore, more curious now. And apparently curiosity hurt worse than anger.
"Leave. Me. Alone." he growled. FUCKIN QUIT YOU NOSELESS DICK.
Harry kept clutching his forehead, trying fruitlessly to apply pressure to relieve the pain, until it seemed like an eternity had passed and the pain disappeared. He let out a few panting breathes and pulled his hands back- only to stare down in horror at them.
You made me bleed, he thought hatefully towards the source of where the pain had appeared from. I'm going to remember that.
What was the point in Timmy trying to dig in Harry's mind when obviously he hadn't been successful so far? Harry ignored all of his annoying visions, not even letting a flash of them make their way in his head. And he would feel it if Timmy made it past his barriers to access his own thoughts and memories, so what was the point?
He looked down at his hands again and scowled.
He'd probably need to go tell Snape about this. It seemed like the sort of thing that he'd be pissed if Harry didn't share.
Harry was under his cloak, carefully making his way to Snape's office, when he spotted Tonks leaning against a wall with her eyes closed.
Which was just the sort of thing he couldn't resist.
Harry snuck right up behind her and leaned close to her ear, "Boo!"
He probably shouldn't have forgotten that Tonks was a trained auror, even if she didn't seem like it most of the time. But she certainly did when she spun around and jabbed her wand right in his throat.
"Who's there?" she asked harshly. "Show yourself!"
"Fuck, shut up," Harry whispered, backing up away from her wand quickly. He pulled his cloak off his head and gave her a half-smile. "It's just me."
"Harry?" Tonks blinked, her eyes shifting quickly from blue to green to indigo with each blink. "Why are you bleeding?"
"Er..." Harry glanced around the corridor and shook his head. He'd never trust these corridors again. "Wanna walk with me to Snape's quarters?"
"Okay!" Tonks brightened up so quickly that Harry almost didn't believe she'd been snoring a minute ago.
"So, what's new with you?" Tonks asked as they walked side by side. Tonks had her wand brandished, and Harry still only had his head exposed from beneath his cloak.
He was sure they made an odd picture.
"Little of this, little of that," Harry said evasively. "What's new with you?"
"Same old, same old," Tonks grinned good-naturedly down at him. "Of course I'm not bleeding from my forehead, so I'm sure your life is much more exciting."
"It's not," Harry said drily.
"Lose a duel?"
"No."
"Win a duel but still got hurt?"
"No."
"Ron get sick of your nonsense and stab you in the forehead while you were asleep and now his red-headed body is burning to ashes in the Slytherin boys dormitory?"
Harry was so startled by her extremely specific guess that he let out a quick bark of a laugh. "No," he told her. "God damn."
"Well I give up then," Tonks shrugged and gave him a pleading look. "Won't you tell your favorite cousin?"
"Draco's my favorite cousin," Harry said.
Before he could even take another step, Tonks had transformed herself to an exact mimic of Draco. "Better?" she asked in Draco's pompous manner.
Harry tried to look disapproving when he shook his head at her, but Tonks just had that same unflappable cheerfulness that Fred always had. Even back in his third year when he was trying to get rid of her to look for Sirius, she was determined to stick around and irritate him to death in the most ridiculous of ways.
"Fine," Tonks huffed and changed back to her normal appearance, pink hair, indigo eyes, and all. "Don't tell me. I'll just ask Severus later."
"'Severus'?" Harry stopped outside the portrait entrance to Snape's quarters and tilted his head curiously at Tonks. "Are you guys friends now?"
"Not yet, but I figure he'll see I'm a great friend to have eventually," Tonks winked.
Which... was bloody weird.
"Call him Sev," Harry advised her, knowing that Tonks seemed to enjoy teasing Snape for whatever reason. "He loves it."
"Will do," Tonks grinned and gave him a lazy sort of two finger salute. "Enjoy your secret conversation Harry. Tell 'Sev' I said hi."
"'Kay." Harry waited until she walked off before he whispered the password to the painting and stepped into Snape's private sitting room.
He called Snape's name softly, not wanting to make him think it was a real emergency. He stepped up to the door he knew was Snape's bedroom and knocked lightly, "Sev? You up?"
Harry wasn't even surprised when Snape's door was abruptly thrown open and a lit wand was shoved in his face. His lack of surprise didn't stop him from shoving it out of his face harshly though. "It's me," he snapped. "Don't fuckin poke my eye out with it, yeah?"
"Are you out of your-" Snape cut himself off and sighed heavily. "You are bleeding."
Harry backed up so Snape could come out of his room and followed behind him to the sofas in his sitting room. "Timmy's fault."
Snape stopped and turned so suddenly that Harry accidentally walked right in to his chest.
"Timmy?" Snape's eyes were wild as he looked Harry over from top to bottom. "Explain. Immediately."
Harry scowled at the barked order. "I told you how he keeps trying to dig around in my head, yeah?"
"You did."
"Well tonight he was... curious," Harry said slowly. "And he dug around a bit more than usual and caused this." He touched his forehead where it had been bleeding and quickly pulled his finger away after causing another fresh wave of pain.
Snape gestured for Harry to go sit on the sofa and went to his cabinet to get a potion. "The Dark Lord was curious about your mind? How do you know that?"
"Same way I know when he's angry and doing it, I guess." Harry shrugged when Snape came to his side and tilted his face up towards the light. "I can feel it."
"Hmm." Snape moved his chin from side to side. "It doesn't appear to be freshly injured, merely bleeding from the old injury," he murmured. "May I clean it?"
"No." Harry jerked his chin away and turned his eyes to the wall behind Snape. "Don't touch it."
Snape raised his hands placatingly. "Because it hurts too much to touch or because you would prefer I not touch you?"
"I don't care if you touch me," Harry rolled his shoulders, feeling his muscles tightening from the surprisingly painful after effects of Timmy trying to break in to his head. "I just- don't touch it." He wouldn't admit that it hurt, he wasn't going to sound weak and pathetic.
Snape muttered something that sounded like 'idiot child' before summoning another potion from the cabinet. "Drink," he said, offering Harry the lavender colored bottle. "If the pain resides quickly, then may I clean it to prevent you from getting a disgusting infection?"
Harry nodded his head shortly before throwing back the pain reliving potion. He released a heavy sigh of air as the pain in his head instantly disappeared, along with a heavy amount of tension in the rest of his body. "Ta," he said. He put the bottle on the small table beside him and lifted his chin once more. "I called him a noseless dick."
The potion dipped rag in Snape's hand froze a few inches from Harry's forehead. "Who?"
"Timmy," Harry explained while Snape slowly and carefully wiped the blood from his inflamed scar and forehead. "He won't leave me alone Sev. So I told him I was going to kill him, didn't I? Then he went from mad to curious, and curious hurt way worse than mad did, so I called him a noseless dick."
"You are now conversing with the Dark Lord through your mind?" Snape's voice sounded like they were just talking about Harry's homework, so he shrugged.
"I dunno if he's getting my messages or not, but I told him to leave me alone." Harry closed his eyes as the potion on his forehead left behind a soothing sensation. "Dumbledore knows about it."
"You told Albus about having mental conversations with the Dark Lord?" Snape's voice was absolutely no longer casual, and now sounded a bit panicked and a lot angry. Harry opened his eyes quickly and inched back in his seat.
"No, I'm not fuckin stupid, am I?" Harry sneered. "He already knew."
Snape put the rag down on the table and summoned another pain reliever, this one for himself. "I would appreciate you starting from the beginning Harry."
Harry waited until Snape sat down in the chair across from him and replayed his ambush by Dumbledore.
"Dumbledore asked me to tell everyone Timmy's back, I said no. He asked me to join the Order, I said no. He asked if I would join Timmy, I said no. He asked if I was getting any pains in my scar, or visions, or odd dreams, and I told him no. And then... then that was it," Harry finished lamely, trying to keep from bringing up the rest of it. Now that his pain was gone, he was tired, and fighting with Snape was the last thing he really wanted to do. Especially since he was debating on just taking a nap on the sofa, keeping himself from having to walk all the way back to his dorm.
"Was there a specific reason you did not come inform me immediately of this?" Snape asked.
Harry shrugged and looked down at his lap. "Dunno." He really hadn't even considered it. He'd just been confused and irritated and on edge after talking to Dumbledore and Snape was probably the last person in the world he wanted to talk to that night.
"What else did Albus tell you?"
Harry shrugged down at his lap again, not really wanting to lie, but also not wanting to fight. "Can I sleep here? I'm tired."
"You may," Snape said without hesitation. "Did this conversation with Albus have anything to do with your decision to give Theodore your position as prefect?"
Harry turned on the sofa to stretch out and look up at the stone ceiling while he tried to think of an answer. "I thought we didn't keep secrets?" he said evasively. "Cause that's what you said."
"We do not. Though I would appreciate if you could imagine yourself in my position, even for just a moment."
Harry peeked over at Snape at that odd request and thought he saw a bit of regret in his dark eyes.
"I had only barely convinced you of the truth that I do not prefer Theodore to you, and that I was in no way attempting to replace you," Snape said, ignoring Harry's embarrassed blush at the reminder of his jealousy over the summer. "Then the badges arrived and to my surprise, Theodore did not receive it and you did. And you seemed more pleased than I had anticipated you would be, considering I did not believe you would even desire the position. If you had been in my shoes, would you have admitted that I had not actually selected you?"
Since Snape was one of less than a dozen people in the world that Harry actually liked, he turned back to the ceiling and tried to consider it honestly.
"Probably not," he finally said. "But I wasn't happy that Dumbledore was the one who told me, was I?"
"I should have told you," Snape said. "I apologize for not telling you myself. And I apologize that you felt the need to give up your position, I am willing to speak with Theodore about it if you would like."
"Nah." Harry summoned the blanket from the basket by the fireplace and kicked his shoes off. "I was a bit of a hypocrite, wasn't I? Walking around with a badge while I don't give a damn about the rules. No better than the bloody police."
Snape snorted, apparently amused by Harry's self-evaluation. "Was that the entirety of your conversation with Albus? You have not left out any other details?"
"Nope." Harry rolled on his side and gave Snape a tired smirk. "But I did talk to Tonks tonight."
"Oh?"
Was Snape... blushing?
Interesting.
"She says hi," Harry told him. "And she says she's an excellent friend to have."
Snape muttered an especially colorful curse under his breath before flicking his wand to dim the lights. "Go to sleep brat. And rest easy knowing that despite your exceedingly numerous bouts of migraine inducing chaos, you are quite irreplaceable to me."
"Night Sevvv," Harry drawled to Snape's back with a grin as Snape quickly made his way back to his room.
Harry waited for the quiet snick of Snape's door before he cleared his mind and pulled all his focus to the center of his forehead:
Watch your back Timmy.
Then, just to be as annoying as humanly possible, he sent him a replay of burning Quirrell to death with his bare hands back in first year.
Harry drifted off to sleep with a satisfied smile on his face.