John Potter walked over the frosty grass of Greengrass Manor wearing the special riding robes his mother had picked up for him last summer, and which she'd put particular effort this morning into making sure he wore properly, despite his half-hearted protestations that he knew how to do it himself.
He made his way over to the long row of horse boxes, now at the back of the manor, facing onto the vast expanse of Greengrass forest, and walked up to the one box bearing the Potter crest.
"You ready, Son?" His dad greeted him at the box gate.
John rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dad, I am ready."
"Because I know how it is when it's your first time, you know."
This wasn't his first time.
James Potter nudged him in the ribs. "And you'll even be chasing your old man."
"Good. I was just thinking my bedroom could use a set of antlers."
James Potter clutched his chest. "Oh! What a shot!" He grinned.
John gave a tight smile. "Just keep an eye out for Malfoy, yes?"
James smiled back. "No one is going to try anything during the hunt, John. They'd be mad to. We don't go around chasing each other, and firing spells willy-nilly, alone in the woods, without precautions."
John nodded.
James wandered off to see to something else.
John unlocked the box, walked over to Sandy, his three year old palomino, put the saddle over her back, and watched all the buckles, straps, and bridle snake their way around and across Sandy's body, neck and head. He shuddered as the serpentine metaphor slithered its way through his brain.
Urgh. Rumours had it that Lord Slytherin was going to be here this year too. Was it any coincidence that Slytherin choose his first hunt to also be his first hunt? Slytherin seemed far to enmeshed in his problems - the man was the first difference he'd spotted in the world when he came back. Everything seemed to always come back to him, even, he suspected, his brother. If he could catch Slytherin alone during the hunt… oooo did he have some questions for that man.
...
"Daphne!" Tracey spluttered.
"Hi, Trace."
"What are you wearing?"
"Riding robes, isn't it obvious?"
" You're going on the hunt?"
Daphne smiled. "Yes."
"Your father is letting you?!"
"Well, it's more that my lord suggested it, and father accepted that since I was already betrothed it wasn't up to him to stage-manage my image."
Tracey cast a look into the dark, thorny, overgrown mass of oppressive plant life that made up Greengrass forest. "Rather you than me, Daph."
...
Lord Slytherin walked through the crowd of the Greengrass winter festival like a prophet parting a badly dressed sea. Everywhere he went, fingers pointed and voices dropped to a hushed whisper.
It was the first time he'd appeared at a semi-public event rather than the more exclusive 'invite only' gatherings of the past three years, so this wasn't at all surprising.
An enterprising man wearing a quirky hat and a nervous grin held out a hand-full of three small and golden balls as he walked past. "Snitch shooting, milord? Hit three snitches in ten spells and win a prize? Only six knuts?"
The crowd held its breath.
Harry smiled under his mask. The man looked like he enjoyed his breakfasts as much as Uncle Vernon, although the effect on him was more red jolly dwarf than red angry star.
"Sure, why not?"
The crowd let out its collective breath. He handed over the money. The special, short range snitches were released, and Harry picked all three clean out of the air with his first three shots.
Nervous clapping broke out among the watchers - the kind of clapping which believes that the future of its originators could well depend on being seen to be clapping this particular wizard at this particular time.
"Y-y-yes," the jolly man squeaked. "W-w-well done. Pick a prize?"
Harry nonchalantly picked out a large, fluffy plush-toy snake in green, red, and purple, which proceeded to curl its way up and around his body before resting its head on his shoulder.
"It looks… err… good on you."
Harry tickled the snake under its jaw eliciting a kind of happy hissing sound. He could feel his parsel magics reaching out to the toy, coiling around it, making it more snake-like, more real. A slight femininity seeped into the hiss. He smiled. "I do believe, that this one is a she."
"Umm… Right… yes, milord."
Harry walked away, leaving a staring crowd and one nervous wreck of a stall keeper. He turned the next corner, saw the path running to a dead-end, and was just about to turn back, when a slight, short, and distracted figure, dressed all in black, stalked around another corner and stopped, wide-eyed in front of him.
He smiled. "Ah. Good afternoon, Heiress Black."
...
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