Chapter 2: Harry the Gymnast

Ladies definitely appreciate a gymnast. Something about the big muscles and the ability to do several consecutive flips drives the female population mad. I'm not pretending to understand nor do I think I'll ever understand. To men, however, a gymnast might seem a little… alternative. Either way, it is what it is. When I see an opportunity for messing around, you'd better believe that I would grab it. And trying to convince a Muggle that Harry Potter is a gymnast is, my dear friends, an opportunity for messing around if I ever encountered one.

So, thank Merlin, this time we weren't escorting Hermione to one of her many like-to-visit-often places. Instead, Harry and I were on our way to one of Ginny's Quidditch matches (Puddlemere United vs. Holyhead Harpies). Normally here I would insult Hermione's lack of Quidditch interest and/or knowledge, but she had a valid excuse for not coming this time. She was blasting chunks all over the place and didn't feel like her stomach could handle Apparating. With sickness comes laziness, that's what I always say. Hermione tells me to add, "With being Ronald Weasley comes slothfulness, gluttony, and making up ridiculous 'mottos' that make absolutely no sense".

Regardless, Harry's family and my own both live in a Muggle neighborhood. It's a bit annoying having to hide things around Muggles and sometimes those situations can end up in a lot of laughter as well, but that's a whole other story.

The presence of Muggles requires us to walk a mile or so away from the neighborhood (farther if any of the old men are out for their 5 a.m. walks) and Apparate to the pitch. This day we happened to come across one of said old men.

Now let me just say that Harry and I are definitely adept when it comes to dressing like Muggles. I fail to see how the rest of the Wizarding world can't understand a few easy concepts like matching and avoiding excessive "layering" (Harry's word, not mine). But sometimes, usually when we're going to a Quidditch match, we like to go all out. I personally would not want to be on the other end of the broomstick if Ginny saw us show up to a match without any sort of supportive apparel on. Hermione just read that last line and sniggered, but I don't see what's funny…

Anyway, it doesn't help that Ginny plays for the Holyhead Harpies, which has probably the most ambiguous team mascot ever. Hermione has mentioned countless times that a harpy is some kind of ancient Greek spirit that stole food, but I have three problems with that. 1. Harpy and Harpie aren't even spelled the same, 2. That has nothing to do with Quidditch, and 3. THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH QUIDDITCH.

Oh, yeah, let's name our team after a food-snatching demon and put a picture of a talon on our robes since those things go together so well. What in the bloody hell?

Well, Harry and I left our houses decked out in dark green sweaters with golden bloody talons on the front. Harry chose to wear a rather feminine scarf with the words "Holyhead Harpies" sewn onto each end. I believe that scarf actually belongs to Ginny, but you didn't hear it from me.

So as we were casually strolling along, a very old, very wrinkly man on what I can only assume to be a brisk morning jaunt was walking towards us in the other direction. When he got close enough, he slowed, and after squinting towards Harry's girl scarf, he stopped completely. I could see it in his face- you know that look that just says, "I'm going to make conversation with you whether you like it or not"? Well, he had that look on.

"Oh bullocks," Harry grunted when he saw the man ahead, stopped and staring directly at us. He glanced down at Uncle Fabian's battered old watch. "We're nearly late. Ginny's going to murder me…"

"Aw, it'll be quick, mate," I replied half-heartedly, with a complimentary clap on the back. "Assuming he doesn't elaborate on the good old days, of course."

We reached the old man a couple seconds later. He smiled at us as we approached him.

"Well, hello there," he said, as he held out a hand and shook with both Harry and myself. I had to admit he had a sort of jolly, booming voice. It was comforting in that grandfather way. "Name's Marcus Deramey. I believe I've seen the two of you messing about in your front lawns? Not the best gardeners, you young folk. Looked like two chickens with their heads cut off."

Harry laughed and replied, "Well, yes, unfortunately that's true. We never did much yard work as kids." He glanced sideways at me. I immediately thought of pelting gnomes at the Burrow. "I'm Harry, this is Ron. We've only moved in recently. It's nice to finally meet someone from the neighborhood."

I uttered a polite, "Hello there," before the man began speaking again.

"Well, I just noticed your scarf as I was walking by." (Probably confused about why it was on a male body, I immediately thought). "I grew up in Holyhead, see. I don't remember any 'Harpies,' that's for sure." He scoffed a bit when he said, "Harpies," and I couldn't help but share the sentiment. Once and forever the worst team name.

"Ohhh, yes, well…" again Harry glanced at me. His eyes were pleading. I just shrugged. "They're fairly new."

"Are they? What sort of team is it?" the man questioned. I looked at Harry, awaiting what he'd say next, when his girly scarf motivated me beyond all comprehension. Ginny later commented that she is often shocked at my creative abilities. I swear, I'm always underestimated.

"It's a professional male gymnastics team!" I blurted out excitedly. Harry's head shot sideways to stare at me. He appeared to be positively horrified. I made a mental note to thank Hermione for rambling about various Muggle sports in which she'd participated.

"Gymnastics?" Marcus replied. "I didn't know men did such a thing."

"Mhmm… they sure do. And Harry here," I punched his shoulder in a "Proud Father" sort of way, "is one of those very men."

"I… well, you don't look very fit though? I thought gymnasts were muscular?" Mr. Deramey questioned. Harry felt the underlying insult and a little pucker of shame appeared suddenly on his lower lip, but it disappeared just as quickly.

"There are… weight classes. It's us skinnier gymnasts that do all the really high, manly flips over… over motorbikes and stacked up televisions… and the like," Harry stammered out.

"Flipping over motorbikes? That's positively ridiculous. Sports have really gone to the dogs, haven't they?" At this point I decided that had we actually been telling the truth, Marcus's comments were pretty insulting. I silently filed him away into the "grumpy old man whom you should never talk to" category of my brain. "Is that where you got that odd little scar?" he continued, gesturing toward Harry's forehead.

"Indeed, it is," I replied somberly. "Sometimes the big flips are just too much for little Harry and—"

"—And others get really jealous of my talent." Harry interrupted. "The scar came from a fight I got into with a gymnast from a weight class three… levels above mine. He became so outraged with jealousy that he cut me with a knife." Mr. Deramey looked near cardiac arrest at this point. "BUT I wrestled him to the ground with my bare hands." Harry finished dramatically.

What a showoff.

"And now they call him Harry Lightning-Bolt Potter." I concluded with a tone of conceit.

"Well, that's quite a curious sport you've involved yourself in, fellow," the old man commented.

"You're welcome to come watch sometime," I encouraged him. He smiled jubilantly, and for about two seconds we both thought he was going to agree.

"Certainly not," he responded.

And then he walked off with such a haughty step that even Harry's Uncle Fatmeister would be jealous.

Although Harry had to endure the annoying acrobatic flip-inducing charms Hermione and Ginny would laughingly place on him whenever Mr. Deramey or his wife walked past either of our houses, he also refused to buy me any sort of snack while we were at Ginny's match.

I lit what I thought was a fire of embarrassment, but it ended up burning me in the long run.

Author's Note: I hate putting these on chapters because I think it interrupts the story's flow, but oh well. Thank you so much for all the wonderful, positive feedback! That's so very kind of you all. I'm so sorry for the delay in posting. I've had a hectic couple of weeks. My freshman year in college is coming to a close! Look out for the next chapter soon. Maybe I'll even get it up within the next couple of days. Please let me know what you think so far : ).