Thank you for the reviews on both the Interlude and Chapter 9! I'll put up review responses in my LJ later today.
I didn't like writing this chapter. I think I did it well, but it hurts.
Chapter Nine: That Sharp Spark of Betrayal
Harry's hand darted out, snatching the Snitch as it tried to bolt around him, and Flint bellowed twice, signaling an end to the Quidditch practice.
Harry turned and dived towards the ground. He barely remembered to pull up at the last moment. Part of him wanted to keep going, to see how low he really could skim over the grass before gravity and momentum caught up with him. His blood was thrumming, filling his veins the same way that the air filled his lungs. The broom the Malfoys had given him was brilliant. Harry had never known that a different kind of broom could make such a difference in the way he flew, adding an extra lightness to his turns and an extra speed to his motions.
He landed with a light roll and flip off the broom, and turned to see the Quidditch team staring at him. Harry paused for a moment. They hadn't been that pleased with him, particularly Flint, when Harry had had to admit at the first practice a week ago that he had a Nimbus 2001 broom now, and hadn't told anyone. They had got over that soon enough, but from their expressions now, Harry wondered if they were remembering it.
Then Flint grinned, an expression that made him look like a bulldog, and said, "We're going to pound the Gryffindors into the ground next Saturday." His gaze traced around the team. "We've got the toughest Beaters, the fastest Chasers-of course-the meanest Keeper, and the best Seekers." His eyes came back to Harry. "Don't we, Potter?"
Harry looked back calmly, undaunted now. He hadn't worked out exactly how he was going to throw the next game back to Connor, but he knew he was. Connor was flying beautifully. Harry knew he wouldn't have to do much to make it look as though Connor had beaten him on sheer skill alone.
Then Flint leaned forward and said, "It's obvious now, the way that you were holding yourself back in the first game last year. I know you didn't do it in the other matches, Potter, but this time you're not going to do it in all of them. Slytherin plays to win."
Harry figured it was best to back down for now. He bowed his head, as though Flint had managed to convince him, and murmured, "Of course."
Flint drew back, satisfied, and made his way towards the showers. He said something to Adrian Pucey that made him laugh loudly, and the rest of the team bunched up close behind, leaving Harry to walk slightly on his own. That suited him just fine. He'd seen the shy figure lurking around the edge of the Pitch during practice, and Harry wanted a chance to speak with him.
"Harry," came the expected voice from the side.
"Connor," said Harry, turning around and smiling at his brother. "Coming to spy on our practice?" He smiled even more widely, to show it was a joke.
Connor jerked, once, but didn't let the teasing distract him. He was looking at the broom in Harry's hands. "When were you going to tell me that you had a Nimbus 2001?"
Harry sighed. "The day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin game, if I could."
"Why?" Connor lifted his head and met Harry's eyes. "I thought that you weren't going to lie to me about anything any more."
"It would have caused a lot of arguments during the summer," said Harry. "And you had enough happen to you then. We still don't know who sent that house elf, do we? And I know about the other things now," he added. "You should have told me if you felt you couldn't sleep, Connor. I could have helped."
Connor stared at him for a long moment. "What are you talking about?"
"Ron told me," said Harry. "That's how concerned he was, that Ron willingly talked to me without you around."
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No Mouth But Some Serpent's
FanfictionThis is NOT my fanfiction. Summary: AU, eventual HP/DM slash, (very) Slytherin!Harry. Harry's brother Connor is the Boy-Who-Lived, and Harry has devoted himself to protecting him—by being ordinary. But certain people aren't content to let Harry hid...