would be devastated if Ron left was somewhat undermined by the fact that the rest of the team was sitting in a huddle in a distant corner, clearly muttering about Ron and casting him nasty looks. Finally Harry tried getting angry again in the hope of provoking Ron into a defiant, and hopefully goal-saving, attitude, but this strategy did not appear to work any better than encouragement; Ron went to bed as dejected and hopeless as ever. Harry lay awake for a very long time in the darkness. He did not want to lose the upcoming match; not only was it his first as Captain, but he was determined to beat Draco Malfoy at Quidditch even if he could not yet prove his suspicions about him. Yet if Ron played as he had done in the last few practices, their chances of winning were very slim... If only there was something he could do to make Ron pull himself together... make him play at the top of his form... something that would ensure that Ron had a really good day... And the answer came to Harry in one, sudden, glorious stroke of inspiration. Breakfast was the usual excitable affair next morning; the Slytherins hissed and booed loudly as every member of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall. Harry glanced at the ceiling and saw a clear, pale blue sky: a good omen. The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold, cheered as Harry and Ron approached. Harry grinned and waved; Ron grimaced weakly and shook his head. “Cheer up, Ron!” called Lavender. “I know you'll be brilliant!” Ron ignored her. “Tea?” Harry asked him. “Coffee? Pumpkin juice?” “Anything,” said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast. A few minutes later Hermione, who had become so tired of Ron's recent unpleasant behavior that she had not come down to breakfast with them, paused on her way up the table. “How are you both feeling?” she asked tentatively, her eyes on the back of Ron's head. “Fine,” said Harry, who was concentrating on handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice. “There you go, Ron. Drink up.” Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione spoke sharply. “Don't drink that, Ron!” Both Harry and Ron looked up at her. “Why not?” said Ron. Hermione was now staring at Harry as though she could not believe her eyes. “You just put something in that drink,
louis vuitton handbags outlet.” “Excuse me?” said Harry. “You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!” “I dont know what you're talking about,” said Harry, stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket. “Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!” Hermione said again, alarmed, but Ron picked up the glass, drained it in one gulp, and said, “Stop bossing me around, Hermione.” She looked scandalized. Bending low so that only Harry could hear her, she hissed, “You should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it of you, Harry!” “Look who's talking,” he whispered back. “Confunded anyone lately?” She stormed up the table away from them. Harry watched her go without regret. Hermione had never really understood what a serious business Quidditch was. He then looked around at Ron, who was smacking his lips. “Nearly time,” said Harry blithely. The frosty grass crunched underfoot as they strode down to the stadium. “Pretty lucky the weathers this good, eh?” Harry asked Ron. “Yeah,” said Ron, who was pale and sick-looking. Ginny and Demelza were already wearing their Quidditch robes and waiting in the changing room. “Conditions look ideal,” said Ginny, ignoring Ron. “And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey ― he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! And even better than that―Malfoy's gone off sick too!” “What,
louis vuitton handbags?” said Harry, wheeling around to stare at her. “He's ill? What's wrong with him?” “No idea, but it's great for us,” said Ginny brightly. “They're playing Harper instead; he's in my year and he's an idiot.” Harry smiled back vaguely, but as he pulled on his scarlet robes his mind was far from Quidditch. Malfoy had once before claimed he could not play
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