He was not as lucky the next day, when the rest of his house found out that he was not playing Quidditch that year. No one seemed to blame him, saying instead that it was all Umbridge’s fault, but that was small comfort. After the first few times that people came up to ask him about the ban Harry began glaring anytime one of his housemates walked up. This was particularly disturbing to those who had been in Hogwarts the previous year and had seen Harry blowing up at his friends.

Finally, after watching a pair of third years squeak and hurry away when Harry glowered at them, Ginny walked over to him. “You realize, of course, that that’s going to do more harm than good,” she said, as she sank down into the chair next to him.

“It’s just that I’m getting really tired of hearing about it,” Harry said defensively.

“I’m sure, but your impersonation of a basilisk isn’t going to improve the situation,” she replied.

“And what is it I should be doing?” he asked her, growing impatience in his voice.

“First of all, calm down. I didn’t take your broom and there’s no need to take my head off. You’re scaring everyone away; they’re convinced you’re going to hex them if they take your spot. Ron’s starting to get really worried that no one’s going to try out.”

“I wouldn’t hex anyone for taking my spot! I wasn’t even thinking about that, I just wanted them to leave me alone!” Harry exclaimed.

“Well that’s what they’re thinking. And the younger years don’t want to do anything to upset Harry Potter. They’re still in awe of you,” she said with a small smirk.

Harry looked sheepish. “So what do I do, Ginny?”

“Well,” she said contemplatively, “You could start by talking to Ron about this somewhere where you can be overheard. Tell him you’re sure he’ll find someone. You might mention that he should look especially in the lower years.”

“Why the lower years?” Harry asked, mystified.

“Because anyone in the upper years would have gotten a chance to try out already. And because you want a variety of ages on your team so that everyone doesn’t leave at once. And because you want someone light as a seeker. And because I think Liza McFarland would make a good seeker but right now she’s too scared of you to try out.”

“Who’s Liza McFarland?” Harry asked.

“One of the second years,” Ginny replied, “Petite, short brown hair, hazel eyes, always sits next to the pale kid with glasses.”

“Oh, right, I remember her now. She kept looking around at everything with really big eyes at her sorting.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Harry, everyone looks around with big eyes at their sorting.”

“Yeah, but I swear hers were bigger than normal. I remember thinking that her eyes must take up half her face or something.”

Ginny just shook her head. “Talk to Ron soon, will you?” she asked as she stood up.

“Sure, I’ll go over to him in a minute,” Harry assured her. “I just want to finish this paragraph for my potions essay.” Ginny smirked and nodded as she left.

Two days later the Gryffindor House Quidditch Team held their tryouts. Liza McFarland was indeed picked for seeker, and two fourth years whose names Harry didn’t remember were picked along with Ginny Weasley as the chasers. Harry watched the tryouts from the top back of the Gryffindor stands, where he could see without being seen. When the team took to the air to do a little casual practice Harry climbed down out of the stands and left the pitch. As he slowly trudged back up to the castle, looking at the ground, he failed to notice the pair of gray eyes set in a pale, narrow face watching him.

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Draco Malfoy had been observing Potter for nearly a week, and his first impression was that it was far too easy. It was almost as though Potter didn’t notice when he felt eyes on him. The first day, Draco permitted himself to scorn Saint Potter for this, but by the second day he realized that if he was going to do this he would have to do it right. So, he set about methodically following and watching the boy-who-lived.

Obviously it was impossible to know what went on in the Gryffindor common room, but everywhere Harry went outside of the tower was duly noted. Draco watched him at meals, he watched in classes, he watched Harry watching the Quidditch tryouts, and he tailed him every time he went out for a walk, whether it was a short one or one of the long, rambling wanders Harry took every so often.

Actually, it had been something of a shock to realize that Potter would not be playing Quidditch; Malfoy had felt certain the ban would be lifted, but apparently it hadn’t been. That was good news for the Slytherin House team, and interesting thing to note. Perhaps the boy-who-lived was out of favor with the ministry? It would require careful, further thought. In the meantime, Draco felt certain this could be used to grow closer to Potter. All he had to do was get into a position to use it.

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Early Saturday morning, Harry woke to a tapping at the window. He had been dreaming of the Quidditch tryouts, and could not at first figure out why the chasers kept tapping his forehead every time they scored. He rubbed at his eyes sleepily as he wondered what the tapping was. Harry yawned as he reached for his glasses to look at the clock. It was five in the morning.

Harry was just about to roll over and go back to sleep when the owl at the window caught his eye. Jumping out of bed Harry rushed to let the owl in and was immediately shocked by the blast of cold air that hit him. The nocturnal avian gave him a reproachful look for taking so long as he untied the note from his leg.

“I’m sorry, but still, couldn’t you have waited for breakfast?” Harry whispered to it. The owl gave him a contemptuous look and flew out the still-open window before he could even offer it an owl-treat.

After he shut the window, Harry hurried back to his still mostly-warm bed to open the letter he had received. It was still too dark to read, so Harry pulled his bed-curtains closed and cast lumos. He carefully examined it, but he did not immediately recognize the almost-familiar handwriting addressing the missive to H. Potter, nor did he recognize the seal on the back.

For a moment, Harry hesitated, but then he remembered that he had seen that particular owl once in the school owlery and decided that it couldn’t be too bad, whatever it was. Harry did not realize that he held his breath as he broke the seal until he sighed in relief when nothing bad happened. Quickly he finished opening the letter and began to read.

Harry,

I thought it would be wisest to ensure that you receive this where there was no audience as you seem to receive very little mail regularly. Consequently I have taken the chance that none of the Gryffindors you share a dormitory with are particularly early risers. I have further taken the precaution of sending this with a school owl.

I have a certain amount of free time on Sunday afternoon, and I thought that it might be an ideal time to practice your occlumency. Provided of course, that you can get away from your friends.

Do not reply by owl. If you wish to meet me on Sunday, be at my office at three o’clock sharp. I will meet you there.

S. Snape

Harry smiled when he saw the signature, and he nearly laughed out loud when he realized that the reason he hadn’t recognized the script was because it was in green instead of red. He was certain he could find a way to get away from his friends, although he wasn’t quite sure what to expect when he did. He had learned occlumency over the summer and was regularly able to keep his professor out of his mind. Harry hadn’t even had many bad dreams since then, nothing Voldemort induced at all, and the meditation required eased his guilt-inspired nightmares as well.

At any rate, it would be nice to talk to his professor, whom he still hadn’t thanked properly for letting him into the NEWT class and there was the matter of who had signed him up to be sorted out as well. Having made his decision Harry parted the curtains a little and looked at the clock on his bedside. It was still quite early, and he could manage to snatch a few more hours of sleep before Ron woke.

With a smile and a large yawn, Harry put his glasses on the stand and slipped the letter under the edge of the mattress. A moment later he was snuggled back under the blankets and scant seconds after that he had already slid back into slumber.

Later that day, after breakfast, Harry made no particular objections when Hermione suggested that they work on their homework. Ron put up a bit more of a fight, but was convinced when the female prefect pointed out that the sooner he got it done the less he’d have to worry about after Quidditch practice. Harry was surprised that Ron allowed himself to be persuaded so easily and was so busy staring at his red-headed friend to notice that he was the recipient of several contemplative looks himself. Hermione, for her part, wisely held her tongue and resolved that as long as her two friends were willing to work she would see to it that they got as much done as possible.

Due to this determination they all finished with the majority of their work in time for a late lunch, and the boys left only the final revision of their transfiguration essay until Sunday night. Hermione was determined not to procrastinate and returned to her arithmancy when they reached the common room again, but she put up only token resistance when Ron challenged Harry to a game of wizard’s chess. Three relatively short games later, all of which Harry lost, Hermione had finished. Soon, along with Neville and Ginny, Ron and Harry managed to rope her in to a game of Exploding Snap.