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Harry had no reason to regret his choice once he saw Dean fly that evening; he worked well with Ginny and Demelza. The Beaters, Peakes and Coote, were getting better all the time. The only problem was Ron.

Harry had known all along that Ron was an inconsistent player who suffered from nerves and a lack of confidence, and unfortunately, the looming prospect of the opening game of the season seemed to have brought out all his old insecurities. After letting in half a dozen goals, most of them scored by Ginny, his technique became wilder and wilder, until he finally punched an oncoming Demelza Robins in the mouth.

“It was an accident, I’m sorry, Demelza, really sorry!” Ron shouted after her as she zigzagged back to the ground, dripping blood everywhere. “I just —”

“Panicked,” Ginny said angrily, landing next to Demelza and examining her fat lip. “You prat, Ron, look at the state of her!”

“I can fix that,” said Harry, landing beside the two girls, pointing his wand at Demelza’s mouth, and saying “Episkey.” “And Ginny, don’t call Ron a prat, you’re not the Captain of this team —”

“Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should —”

Harry forced himself not to laugh.

“In the air, everyone, let’s go. …”

Overall it was one of the worst practices they had had all term, though Harry did not feel that honesty was the best policy when they were this close to the match.

“Good work, everyone, I think we’ll flatten Slytherin,” he said bracingly and the Chasers and Beaters left the changing room looking reasonably happy with themselves.

“I played like a sack of dragon dung,” said Ron in a hollow voice when the door had swung shut behind Ginny.

“No, you didn’t,” said Harry firmly. “You’re the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves.”

He kept up a relentless flow of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time they reached the second floor, Ron was looking marginally more cheerful. When Harry pushed open the tapestry to take their usual shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower, however, they found themselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who were locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely as though glued together.

It was as though something large and scaly erupted into life in Harry’s stomach, clawing at his insides: Hot blood seemed to flood his brain, so that all thought was extinguished, replaced by a savage urge to jinx Dean into a jelly. Wrestling with this sudden madness, he heard Ron’s voice as though from a great distance away.

“Oi!”

Dean and Ginny broke apart and looked around.

“What?” said Ginny.

“I don’t want to find my own sister snogging people in public!”

“This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!” said Ginny.

Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Harry a shifty grin that Harry did not return, as the newborn monster inside him was roaring for Dean’s instant dismissal from the team.

“Er … c’mon, Ginny,” said Dean, “let’s go back to the common room. …”

“You go!” said Ginny. “I want a word with my dear brother!”

Dean left, looking as though he was not sorry to depart the scene.

“Right,” said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron, “let’s get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron —”

“Yeah, it is!” said Ron, just as angrily. “D’you think I want people saying my sister’s a —”

“A what?” shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. “A what, exactly?”

“He doesn’t mean anything, Ginny —” said Harry automatically, though the monster was roaring its approval of Ron’s words.

“Oh yes he does!” she said, flaring up at Harry. “Just because he’s never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he’s ever had is from our Auntie Muriel —”

“Shut your mouth!” bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.

“No, I will not!” yelled Ginny, beside herself. “I’ve seen you with Phlegm, hoping she’ll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it’s pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging