The next day, during Herbology class—
Harry was carefully loosening the soil around his plant when he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Hermione kept spacing out.
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That surprised him. He knew she and Ginny were close, but he hadn't realized they were that close—close enough for Hermione to look so anxious over Ginny's Quidditch tryouts. Apparently, last night's enthusiastic recommendation hadn't been just a passing impulse.
After class, they walked side by side toward the Great Hall.
Hermione poked at the beans on her plate, muttering under her breath, "Harry, what if Wood doesn't want a lower-year student? What if he insists on picking an older player?"
Harry chuckled and pushed his sausages onto her plate. "Eat something first, or you won't have the energy to cheer later."
The sun climbed higher, and Oliver Wood had already come by three times to hurry them along.
They finished eating in a rush and were about to head toward the Quidditch pitch when Hermione suddenly stopped, tugging on Harry's sleeve.
"Where's your trunk?" she asked.
"In the dormitory," said Harry, puzzled. "Why?"
Hermione's cheeks flushed a little as she scratched her head. "I… I was hoping to borrow your Nimbus 2000. You know how Ginny's family isn't exactly well-off, and maybe—"
"No problem," said Harry instantly.
He was just about to turn back to go with her when Wood came charging up and grabbed him by the arm.
"Harry! No time for dawdling!"
Wood's booming voice made Harry's ears ring as the older boy dragged him off toward the pitch.
Hermione waved after him. "I'll get it myself, then! See you at the field!"
Standing before the boys' dormitory door, Hermione hesitated for a second. Last time she'd barged in without knocking, and—well, that had been awkward enough. She wasn't about to make that mistake again.
So she gently knocked. "Anyone in there?"
The door creaked open, and Neville poked his head out, holding a potted Mimbulus mimbletonia from Professor Sprout.
They both blinked in surprise when they saw each other.
Hermione silently thanked herself for knocking—she'd assumed everyone would already be at the tryouts, but apparently not.
Neville looked just as startled. His plant twitched, and he tightened his grip on the pot to keep it from slipping.
"Hermione?" Neville said, blinking.
"I came to borrow Harry's Nimbus 2000," Hermione explained quickly. "He told me to come get it myself."
"Oh, right. Come in, then," Neville said, stepping aside.
Hermione hurried in and spotted Harry's trunk at the foot of his bed.
Neville opened his mouth to warn her—Harry had mentioned putting a jinx on the trunk so no one would fiddle with it—but before he could say anything, Hermione flipped the lid open effortlessly. No trace of a spell.
Neville closed his mouth again, scratching his head. Maybe Harry had just said that to keep people from touching it.
Hermione didn't notice. She reached for the broom—but a soft hiss came from the door leading to the second compartment.
Humphrey, the three-headed dog Harry had rescued, poked out cautiously, each head scanning the room.
Harry had told him before leaving: If anyone touches the trunk, attack first, ask questions later.
But once Humphrey saw who it was, all three heads relaxed, then slowly retreated back into the compartment.
Hermione, pressed for time, didn't stop to greet him. She grabbed the Nimbus 2000 and hurried toward the door.
At the entrance, she noticed Neville crouched on the floor, clearly not planning to go anywhere.
"Neville, aren't you going to watch the tryouts? They're choosing a new Chaser today!"
Neville shrugged and lightly tapped the Mimbulus mimbletonia. "Nah. It's been acting up lately."
He pointed toward a greenish stain on the windowsill. "Yesterday it suddenly sprayed some nasty dark green stuff all over the dorm. I need to keep an eye on it—figure out what's triggering its defense mechanism."
As if on cue, the plant let out a wet sputter and sprayed another jet of foul-smelling goo, splattering Neville's sleeve.
Neville sighed, smiling helplessly as he pulled a small pouch of fertilizer from his pocket. "See? Gotta keep it happy."
Hermione nodded knowingly. "All right, I'll let you handle it. I've got to run."
She sprinted to the Quidditch pitch, panting and drenched in sweat by the time she reached the sidelines. She thrust the Nimbus 2000 into Ginny's hands.
Harry was nearby, helping organize players. "You're up! Wood's been yelling for you!"
Ginny stared at the sleek broom in shock. She'd planned to borrow Angelina's old broom—she hadn't expected to fly on Harry's Nimbus 2000.
"Hermione, this—"
"No time!" Hermione urged. "Harry said Wood's waiting!"
Angelina Johnson, holding a clipboard covered in names, gave a quick nod. "She's right! You're next, Weasley!"
A boy standing nearby, clearly confused, opened his mouth to protest—but one look from Harry shut him right up.
Ginny glanced up at the bright blue sky, then back at Hermione's encouraging smile. Taking a deep breath, she grinned. "Thanks!"
Before anyone could say another word, she kicked off the ground.
The Nimbus shot upward like a bolt of red lightning, her hair streaming behind her in the wind.
Moments later, the stands erupted in cheers.
Ginny dodged a Bludger from Fred with a swift dive—the hit had clearly been softened—and then caught the Quaffle cleanly, swooping down and sinking it neatly through the hoop.
"Brilliant!" Harry shouted, genuinely impressed. He hadn't known Ginny could fly like that.
Up above, Wood nearly exploded with energy. He zoomed over to Fred, shouting, "Fred! You call that a Bludger? It flew like a bloody marshmallow!"
"I'm George!" a voice yelled back, laughing.
"I don't care who you are!" Wood bellowed, nearly shaking the goalposts. "One more soft hit like that, and you'll both be polishing the goal hoops for a month—with your tongues!"
Whichever twin it was stuck his tongue out at him, then smashed a Bludger so fast and hard that it whistled through the air.
Ginny leaned sharply to one side, barely avoiding it. Even Harry held his breath.
Moments later, she dodged another, then scored a third goal in quick succession.
Wood blew his whistle so hard it nearly cracked. He flew to the middle of the pitch and shouted so everyone could hear:
"I've made my decision! Ginny Weasley is the new Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"
Cheers exploded across the pitch—Hermione's voice rose above the rest, nearly hoarse from yelling. But not everyone was happy.
"Why her?!"
Cormac McLaggen pushed his way forward, red-faced. He'd been sure he had the spot locked in.
"I haven't even had my turn! She just got lucky—"
Wood swooped down to land in front of him. "Take a look at what she's flying!"
He jabbed a finger at the broom in Ginny's hands. "A Nimbus 2000—one of the fastest models in Britain! You got one?"
Cormac's face turned beet red. His Cleansweep wasn't bad, but it didn't compare.
"And besides," Wood continued loudly, turning toward the crowd, "even without that broom—her speed, judgment, reflexes—she's already miles ahead of the guy who fell off his broom after the first Bludger!"
Laughter rippled through the stands. Cormac clenched his fists but couldn't find a single word to argue back.
Wood, of course, didn't realize that broom wasn't Ginny's.
Ginny's cheeks were burning. She glanced toward the sidelines, where Hermione grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Fred laughed. "Welcome to the team, sis! Another Weasley joins the lineup!"
Wood clapped Ginny's shoulder so hard she nearly lost balance. "From now on, practice every week—no excuses for being late!"
And with that, he shot off toward the castle, probably eager to tell Professor McGonagall the good news himself.